Page 36 of Oops, I Fell For The Ranch Hand Next Door

“So.” Rev leans back in his chair, eyes twinkling. “You two figure out what you’re doing yet, or you still playing it day by day?”

The question is gentle but pointed. He’s asking if this is real or just her landing somewhere soft until she figures out her next move.

Jessie meets his gaze without flinching. “I’m staying. Not day by day. Just staying.”

“Good.” He nods once, slow and deliberate. “Ranch needs people who know how to show up when things get hard. You strike me as someone who’s learned that lesson the expensive way.”

The observation is kind but cuts close to the bone. Jessie’s fingers find mine under the table, lacing through, holding tight. “I’m learning. Eli’s a good teacher.”

“He’s had practice.” Rev’s gaze shifts to me, and understanding passes between us. He knows what it cost me to leave the fire squad, to build a life from the wreckage of failure. He’s observing me do it again, this building a life from the pieces of Jessie’s shattered foundation. “You taking her to the Horseshoe Friday? Town’s been asking.”

There it is. The question I’ve been avoiding.

I turn to Jessie. Her face is open, curious, no fear in her eyes at the prospect of being put on display. “You want to go? Fair warning—it’s loud, crowded, and everyone’s going to have questions.”

“I can handle questions.” Her thumb brushes an arc on the back of my hand. “As long as you’re there.”

The absolute trust in those five words dissolves the last piece of doubt I’ve been carrying. She’s ready. Not just to stay, but to be witnessed staying. To claim this life publicly instead of hiding in the safety of the ranch.

“Then we’ll go.” I bring her hand to my lips, kissing her knuckles. “But you’re wearing my jacket. I want everyone to know exactly who you’re with.”

Color floods her face, but she doesn’t argue. Just nods and squeezes my hand tighter.

Dinner continues. Stories are shared. Louanne brings out a chocolate cake that’s probably illegal in several states. Cash tells the story of how I showed up four years ago and spent the first month sleeping in the barn because I couldn’t handle walls. Sloane adds details about the first time I smiled after moving here. Apparently it took six months and involved a particularly stubborn horse finally trusting me enough to eat from my hand.

Jessie absorbs it all, asking questions, laughing at the right moments, fitting into my family like she’s always been here. And when Louanne starts crying and blaming allergies, Jessie stands to hug her without hesitating.

“Thank you.” Jessie’s voice is quiet but clear. “For making me belong here.”

“You do belong here.” Louanne grips her shoulders, fierce and maternal. “You’ve belonged here since the moment Eli brought you through that door. We don’t let go of people like you. You’re stuck with us now.”

The words crack open Jessie’s expression. She nods, blinking hard, and returns to her seat beside me. Her hand finds mine immediately, holding tight, and I press my lips to her temple.

Dinner winds down. Cash and Sloane disappear to their own cabin. Louanne packs enough leftovers to feed us for three days and strict instructions to actually eat them. Rev lingers, helping clear plates with the unhurried calm of someone who’s got nowhere else to be.

“Walk me out?” He directs the question at both of us.

We follow him onto the porch. Evening’s deepened into dusk, fireflies beginning their drift through the meadow beyond the tree line. The air’s gone cooler, that particular shift that comes before storms. Thunder rumbles low in the distance. Rev stops at the bottom of the steps and turns to face us.

“I’m proud of you both.” He addresses me first. “You’ve been doing good work for four years, showing up, but never really present. She brought you back.” Then his attention shifts to Jessie. “And you. You’ve been running so long you forgot what it meant to stand still. He gave you a reason to stop.” His eyes move between us. “Building a life instead of surviving one is going to ask things of you that survival never did. It’s going to require you to be present when it’s uncomfortable. To decide for each other when it would be easier to decide for yourselves.”

The words land with prophetic weight. He’s not warning us. He’s preparing us.

“We know.” Jessie’s voice is solid. “We’re ready.”

Rev nods. “I believe you are.” He claps my shoulder once, then walks to his truck without another word.

We stand on the porch as his taillights disappear down the drive. Thunder rumbles closer now, and the first fat drops of rain begin to fall. Jessie turns into me, her arms sliding around my waist, her face pressing into my chest. Her pulse hammers against my ribs where our bodies are flush.

“Thank you for finding me and for not giving up.” Her words are muffled against my shirt. “Thank you for showing me what it means to decide for myself.”

I frame her face with my palms, tilting it up so she has to meet my eyes. “You did the hard part. You decided to stay. You decided to believe you deserved this. I just showed up.”

“You always show up.” She rises onto her toes, eliminating the distance. “That’s what you do.”

I kiss her while the rain starts in earnest, soaking through our clothes, turning the yard to mud. We kiss like I’ve been wanting to since she walked into the lodge wearing my flannel and her new resolve. We don’t stop until we’re both gulping air and laughing and stumbling back toward our cabin through the downpour.

Inside, I strip her wet clothes with hands that shake slightly from want instead of restraint. She does the same for me, and then we’re lying in our bed while rain pounds the roof and lightning cracks close enough to rattle the windows.