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Saoirse walked ahead, shoulders relaxed, boots sure on the narrow trail. Pippin rode high in the carrier on her back like royalty—tail curled, ears flicking, eyes full of judgment. He hadn’t stopped glaring since we left the cottage. Still wasn’t speaking to either of us for the sin of going off-grid without his approval, even though we both knew he loved being taken along instead of left behind.
Ajax ranged a few paces farther, nose to the breeze, tail up and alert. He was fully healed now, scar barely visible beneath his coat. That didn’t stop him from limping now and again when he wanted sympathy. The old lad was shameless about it. Not that I could blame him. He’d earned the theatrics. And the extra treats. Mrs. Byrne at the bakery had needed to up her production of the fancy biscuits to keep Ajax, Havoc, and Falkor supplied in the manner to which they’d all become accustomed. Spoiled, the lot of them. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Clover bounded along the edge of the path in ungraceful zigzags, ears flopping, tail whipping like a banner. She’d been half-starved and curled up beneath a bench the night we found her. Now? She was all legs and enthusiasm and joy. Brown and white, with a mischievous spark in her eyes, she had quickly earned her spot in the pack—chaos gremlin and cuddle thief all in one. She was giving Maeve a run for her money.
The path rose gently underfoot, dry leaves kicking up with each step. It was early autumn. Cool enough to see your breath if you stood still, the air clean and edged with wood smoke from somewhere deeper in the glen. The kind of day that settled in your lungs and made you feel like maybe, just maybe, things could stay quiet for a while.
But not too quiet. That wasn’t our way.
I kept my eyes on Saoirse more than the trail. Watching the swing of her arms, the set of her jaw, the occasional tug at the strap across her shoulder when the cat shifted. We’d walked a hell of a long road to get here—some of it uphill, some of it bloody—and she still kept climbing.
And today, I was going to ask her to keep doing it with me.
She glanced back, caught me watching, and gave a dry snort. “See something you like, Patterson?”
I took a quick stride closer to snag her hand, pressing a lavish kiss to the back of it. “Every prickly inch.”
The sound of Ajax’s joyful bark pulled both our attention to where he was rolling in something he absolutely shouldn’t be. Clover, not to be outdone, dove in beside him, tail wagging furiously as she joined in the mess.
Saoirse sighed. “You know, between him and this one—” she thumbed toward her shoulder, where the cat’s tail was flicking with imperious disdain, “—and Clover trying to eat everything in the woods, I’m going to need a barn and a therapist.”
She had no idea how well-timed a remark that was. I smirked. “One of those I can provide.”
She rolled her eyes, but her mouth pulled into a reluctant smile. “You’re impossible.”
I smirked. “You knew that going in.”
We kept walking, unhurried, the five of us—her, me, the dog, the judgmental cat riding in his backpack throne like he owned the trail, and the puppy who thought every stick was a treasure.
We crested the hill, and there it was.
The cottage sat below. Stone walls, slate roof, chimney already puffing a little smoke. A small barn stood off to the left, fencing stretching in clean lines around the field. The place looked exactly like what it was meant to be: Space. Room. A start.
Saoirse stopped beside me, sudden and still.
Ajax circled back, tail wagging. Pippin shifted behind her with a soft, disgruntled chirp. Clover sat at her feet, tongue lolling, looking up at her with adoration. Saoirse stared down at the house like she couldn’t quite believe it was real.
“This is…” She trailed off, not finishing the thought. But she didn’t have to. Because I knew her. Knew what was going through that beautiful head of hers.
Instead of the land or the house, I looked at her. “You once said you didn’t have room for a menagerie. I figured we should fix that.”
Her head snapped toward me, eyes wide.
“It’s ours. If you want it.” I kept my tone casual. Matter of fact, though, my heart pounded behind my breastbone.
She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes shone so bright as she stared at me, trying to take in all of it at once. Not only the house—the offer. The whole bloody picture. I watched her steadily. Because that moment, the one where everything lined up exactly right on her face—the awe, the disbelief, the yes that hadn’t even made it to her mouth yet—that was the one I’d been chasing since the day we met.
I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets, trying not to grin too early. “But there’s a condition.”
Her eyes narrowed like she was trying to figure out what angle I was playing, and she looked so much like Pippin in that moment, I nearly laughed.
Then her mouth gave the faintest twitch. “Of course there is.” Light on the surface, but I heard the catch underneath.
My hands weren’t exactly steady either as I reached into my jacket, fingers finding the box I’d checked too many times on the hike up. I dropped to one knee in the grass. I’d considered planning a speech, but drama and rehearsals weren’t my style. This was just me, kneeling with dirt on my boots and a heart that hadn’t shut up since I met her.
I flipped the box open, and my hand trembled a little.
She saw it. I didn’t try to hide it.
The box was simple. So was the ring. No flash. No gimmicks. Those wouldn’t have suited her. The diamond solitaire was the tangible promise of I mean this.
I couldn’t hold back the grin now. “I want to build this life with you. Early mornings with wet dogs, you mocking my tea, Pippin acting like he owns the place. Because we both know that he does.”
She barked a laugh, her hand flying to her mouth like she hadn’t meant to let it loose. But it was there. Bright and unquestionably hers.
“I want the barn. I want the animals. I want you, boots and sarcasm and all. Every ridiculous, wonderful day.”
She didn’t say anything, but her cheeks were pink, and her eyes… God, her eyes. Like maybe she couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Like maybe she wanted it more than she’d let herself hope.
“You can say no.” I said it mostly to keep talking, because we both knew she wouldn’t. “But I really, really hope you don’t.”
I held out the box, not as a grand gesture, but because this was us. Honest. Solid. Built from the ground up.
In answer, she dropped to her knees with zero hesitation, grabbed my jacket, and kissed me like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like, of course, it was yes.
And for a second, I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, as feeling rioted inside me. Her hands fisted in the fabric like she meant to hold on for good, her mouth warm and certain against mine. Every part of me stilled and surged. As if my ribs didn’t quite know how to handle this much feeling all at once. This much her.
This wasn’t relief. It wasn’t adrenaline. It was joy. Whole and bright and heavy in the best possible way. The kind that buzzed in your chest and made you forget how long you’d gone without it.
When she finally pulled back, her nose brushed mine, and she was smiling. Glowing, actually. Hair windblown, cheeks flushed, eyes shining like the sky had cracked open for us.
“God, I love you,” I muttered, still grinning like an idiot.
She bumped her forehead against mine. “You better. I just kissed you in front of the cat.”
Pippin made a huffy, judging noise behind her. Ajax barked once like he was giving his approval, tail thumping the ground. Clover let out a delighted yip and pounced on a nearby leaf, tail wagging furiously.
I laughed. Couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop. Because this—this was everything I’d never dared to want.
And somehow, it was mine.
“Is that a yes, then?” I was pretty sure, but confirmation was never a bad thing.
“It’s absolutely a yes.”
Then she laughed—giddy, bright, and wholly herself. “But only if I get to pick the next dog.”
I grinned, heart thudding against hers, and tilted my head so I could see the spark in her eyes. “You say that like I’d have a say.”
Ajax came bounding up the path like he’d been holding his breath for the punchline—tail wagging so hard it sent leaves flying, paws thudding in joyful rhythm. As I helped Saoirse to her feet, he circled once, quick and tight, then dropped onto the ground beside me like he’d personally delivered the news and was ready for his reward.
Clover, not to be outdone, leapt up and licked Saoirse’s face enthusiastically before settling at her feet, tail thumping against the ground.
Pippin sneezed—once, sharply—from his perch in the backpack, clearly unimpressed by all this unnecessary enthusiasm. Then he rearranged himself with the offended dignity of minor royalty and tucked his nose back beneath his tail.
Saoirse leaned into my side, her head brushing my shoulder, and we looked out at the land below. The cottage. The barn. The fencing that didn’t look like much but meant everything. It wasn’t flashy. Wasn’t sprawling. But it was solid, and it had plenty of room to build and grow.
Room for a life. A family. A dog named Ajax, a cat with a throne, and a half-feral puppy named Clover, who already thought the fields were hers.
And as soon as we went through the proper channels, it would be ours.
She was quiet for a long moment. “I didn’t think I’d ever get this.”
I glanced down at her, not sure if she was talking about the land or something else entirely. “What?”
“A life that fits. One I chose.”
I tightened my arm around her, pulled her a bit closer, and pressed a kiss to her temple. “You chose me.”
She smiled, eyes still on the view, and said it like it wasn’t even a question. “Every damn day.”