Page 267 of Lost Then Found
Everyone’s still hollering, throwing out kisses and peace signs and blown-up cheers.
My cheeks hurt from smiling.
Boone reaches for my hand again and rests it on the center console, his thumb running over the edge of the ring like he can’t stop touching it.
Neither can I.
I tilt my hand toward the last streaks of light through the windshield, admiring the way the diamond catches it, throwing tiny sparkles across the cab. “I still can’t believe this is mine,” I say, turning it slowly. “It’s perfect, Boone.”
He glances over at me, grinning like he’s got a secret he’s dying to tell. “Good. You deserve perfect.”
I settle back in the seat, the warmth of the truck’s cab wrapping aroundme like a blanket. “Alright,” I say. “Important question. What are we listening to on this very fancy drive into town?”
Boone hums, reaching over to pop open the glovebox. He rifles through a few things—some old receipts, a flashlight, a pair of sunglasses—before pulling out a scratched-up CD in a clear case. He holds it up like it’s made of gold. “MyDixie Chicks CD.”
I snatch it out of his hand so fast he doesn’t see it coming. “Excuse you—myDixie Chicks CD.”
He barks out a laugh and leans in to kiss me, quick and full of affection, his smile still pressed against mine. “OurDixie Chicks CD,” he says. “We’re engaged now, remember? What’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine.”
“Everything but this,” I reply, clutching the case. “You can have my heart, Boone Wilding, but you arenotgetting the lead vocals on‘Cowboy Take Me Away.’”
He laughs again, louder this time, and it fills the cab like music. “Deal. As long as I get to be the cowboy you’re singing about.”
I look over at him, heart thudding wildly in my chest. “You already know you are.”
I slide the CD into the player, and the familiar twangy intro fills the cab before the first notes ofWide Open Spacesstart to spill out. Boone grins, already mouthing the words, and by the time the first chorus hits, we’re both belting it—loud, off-key, and with the kind of shameless joy that only comes from singing songs you’ve loved since you were a kid.
Boone’s tapping the beat on the steering wheel, his voice cracking on the high notes, not that he seems to care. I’m no better—half-screaming, half-laughing through the lyrics, hair whipping around my face from the cracked window.
WhenCowboy Take Me Awaycomes on, he reaches for my hand again, lifts it to his mouth, and presses soft, lingering kisses to each knuckle. His thumb traces over the ring like he still can’t quite believe it’s there.
The sun’s nearly gone now, the sky fading from lavender to dusky blue, and I sit there in his truck—with my bare legs sticking to the seat, the Dixie Chicks crooning through the speakers, my hand in Boone’s—and Icouldn’t want anything more than this.
This man. This life. This messy, beautiful, rebuilt thing we’ve made from all the pieces we used to think were broken.
I don’t care where we go from here. What challenges come next. I’ll take them all if it means I get to face them like this—with my boys, in our house, with music playing and laughter spilling out into the night.
Boone looks over at me and smiles. “You good, baby?”
I nod, too full to speak, my voice caught somewhere between my chest and throat.
Because yeah, I’m good.
I’m more than good.
I’m home.
Epilogue
BOONE
Two years later
“Alright, so what’s it gonna be?”
Jack blinks at me, slow and skeptical, like I’ve just asked him to recite the periodic table. Across the table, his sister starts clapping like I’ve done something worth a standing ovation. Then she starts smacking her tray like it’s a damn bongo drum—applesauce in her hair, a crayon in one chubby fist, and this smug little look on her face like she knows she runs the place. Because she does. We’re all just living in her sticky, chaotic little world.
“Look at that,” I say, pointing my spatula at her. “Jack’s out here contemplating his life choices, and you’re over there hosting a full-blown rave in a high chair.”
