Page 22 of Bolt To Me
Their bodies rocked together, sweat slicking their skin, their rhythm deepening until the entire world was narrowed to nothing but the two of them. The creak of the bed. The ragged draw of breath. The soft moans and desperate cries that spilled into the night like a song only they knew the words to. It built slowly, like a tide dragging them under, inevitable, consuming. And when they finally broke apart, shaking and breathless, it was together. Their cries tangled, their bodies still locked tight, hearts hammering in sync.
She felt it down to her bones. This wasn’t just want, it wasn’t just heat or hunger. This was something deeper, older. This was home.
Cory’s Grand Gesture
The square still held the scent of storm: wet earth, splintered cedar, and the faint metallic sharpness of exposed wire and freshly cut debris. The town had dressed itself up for the night, as best it could. Plywood still stretched across storefronts like makeshift scars, and blue tarps flapped against half-shingled roofs, their edges caught in the soft whisper of the breeze. But there was music. There were twinkling lights strung with hopeful hands from power poles still leaning a little too far in the wrong direction. Tables lined the grassy center, heavy with casseroles wrapped in foil, trays of cookies dusted with powdered sugar, and enough sweet tea to baptize a large Texas county or a small third-world country. Kids ran barefoot through puddles that hadn’t yet dried, laughter echoing over the murmur of conversations and the crackle of a nearby fire pit built in an old metal barrel.
Carli’s muscles ached, her back stiff from days of hauling and hammering and lifting more than she probably should have,but it was a good ache. An earned ache. Her boots squelched faintly in the damp grass as she stepped back from the drink table, drying her hands on a towel someone had left beside the cups. Her ponytail had come loose hours ago, tendrils curling against her neck, and her hoodie smelled faintly like smoke, sweat, and whatever cinnamon spice the bakery had been giving out earlier. But she didn’t care. Her heart felt quiet. Strong. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t performing. She wasn’t hiding behind the right dress or the right smile or the expectations of a name.
She was just here. Alive. Standing in the town square, she once wanted to escape. And belonging. That thought hit her harder than expected, caught somewhere between her ribs and her throat as she watched a group of women hand out paper plates to volunteers and neighbors alike. No one was whispering about her anymore. No pointed glances. No tight-lipped smiles. Just nods. Warm eyes. Grateful hand-squeezes passed as naturally as napkins.
She was still catching her breath when Josie appeared beside her, sipping something fizzy out of a plastic cup and wearing that unmistakable cat-got-the-cream grin that always spelled mischief. “What?” Carli asked warily, narrowing her eyes.
Josie twirled her straw, pretending to be innocent and failing miserably. “Nothing. Just… might wanna stay close to the stage, is all.”
That tone had trouble written all over it. “Why?”
Josie sipped again, clearly enjoying herself. “Oh, you’ll see.”
The band on the small wooden stage began winding down, the music fading into the kind of gentle silence that suggested something was about to happen. The chatter quieted. Folding chairs creaked in the grass. Carli’s gaze shifted towardthe spotlight that suddenly flicked onto center stage, where Jackson Hayes stepped into it like he was born to command attention. Savannah stood beside him, glowing like the queen of post-storm Texas, her arm linked through his.
Jackson tapped the mic, his grin as easy as ever. “Alright, folks, y’all settle down for a minute. I got a few things to say.”
A hush fell across the square. The kind of hush born of respect and curiosity.
“We’ve all been through hell the last few days,” Jackson began, voice carrying clean and steady. “But we’re still standing. And Hayes Energy is damn proud to stand with this town, has been for three generations. So, starting tonight, we’re committing two million dollars toward rebuilding every home, business, and busted barn this storm laid into.”
A stunned silence. Then a rush of gasps. And finally, applause, hard, fast, and overwhelming. People stood. Clapped. Cheered loud enough to rattle the light strings overhead.
Carli felt tears sting the corners of her eyes as she clapped too, watching Savannah beam beside Jackson like she’d known all along he had this in him.
Jackson raised a hand to quiet the crowd. “Buildings are one thing. But it’s the people who make this town worth saving. People who show up. Who stays. Who fights for each other. And there’s someone else who’s got a few words of his own.”
Carli barely had time to register what he meant before the lights shifted, and another figure stepped onto the stage.
Cory.
He wore jeans and a dust-streaked button-down with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, his hair a little wild like he’d run his fingers through it one too many times in frustration. His boots were scuffed, his stance unsure until his eyes found hers. And then everything else dropped away.
The crowd hushed again, this time with a different kind of energy.
“I’m not a speech guy,” Cory began, his voice rough around the edges, like maybe he’d practiced this out loud too many times. “I’m more of a show-up, fix what’s broken, shut-my-mouth kind of guy. But tonight… I’ve got something I need to say. Something I should’ve said a long time ago.” His eyes never left hers. “I’ve spent most of my life running from expectations, from responsibility, from anything that made me feel like I wasn’t enough. When things got too close, too good, too real… I ran. And I told myself it was survival.”
A ripple of emotion moved through the crowd, but Carli couldn’t hear anything but her pulse.
“And then Carli Santana ran past me in a damn wedding dress and reminded me what courage actually looks like.”
A few chuckles. A whistle from the back.
Cory smiled faintly, then took a breath. “I didn’t fall for her because she needed saving. I fell for her because she saved herself. Because she’s bold. Honest. Because she doesn’t let fear keep her small. Because she makes me want to be more.”
He stepped closer to the edge of the stage, eyes locked on hers like there was no one else in the square. “I left when it got hard. When I got scared. And I’ve never regretted anything more. Because of this, what we have is worth staying for. It’s worth fighting for. Hell, it’s worth everything.” He winked at Luke. “And your brother keeps threatening to kick my ass.” A small round of chuckles drifted through the crowd. “Carli, come here.”
He hesitated. Then reached into his back pocket and pulled out something small and black. A velvet box. There were a few gasps, a few muffled squeals.
Carli’s breath caught in her throat, her vision blurring as she walked towards the stage.
“I love you,” he said, kneeling at the edge of the stage, the lights catching the ring as he opened the box. “I love you more than I’ve ever said. More than I probably deserve. But I’m asking you, here in front of everyone who thought we were a beautiful mess, and everyone who’s now seen that we were always something more…”
