by Erin Wright
The whole thing was an awful story, too awful to be real.
Except it was.
No wonder Declan had thought it was the gods, exacting their revenge on him for admitting weakness.
She stood up and moved to his side, throwing her arms around him. “Oh Dec. I wish I’d known…”
So much made sense now. His complete refusal to tell her why he was breaking up with her. Moving up to northern Idaho, far away from friends and family. He’d stopped responding to her phone calls, and eventually, she’d just given up. Whatever had caused him to do what he did, she couldn’t fix it if he wouldn’t even talk to her.
“Declan, you have to know here,” she touched his heart, “that you didn’t do anything wrong. You have to believe it. You were just as innocent as everyone else.”
“But then you hit a deer too, and this happened,” he said, gesturing at her legs. “Maybe God is trying to tell me something. Maybe I shouldn’t be trusted to be in people’s lives. Maybe I should just be single and protect those I love from…me.”
She pulled away and frowned at him.
“Declan Miller, you sure can be a dumbass sometimes,” she said bluntly. He stared at her, his mouth agape. “According to you, all you have to do is break up with me and stay single for the rest of your life, and that will somehow protect me from getting hurt? Need I remind you that this happened,” she gestured towards her legs, “while we were broken up? So I’m not sure how breaking up again will protect me from the terrible things that happen in life.”
She dropped her hands down by her sides and planted them on her hips. “If you think that I’m going to allow you to hide from your fears again, well, you’ve got another think a-comin’! I won’t put up with it, Declan, not for one minute. You pushed me out of your life before, and I’m not going to allow it again.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “Now quit being a dumbass.”
“But…” he said weakly.
She leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him. “Did you ever go see someone after your mom’s death?” she asked quietly as she pulled away. He shook his head slowly. “Let me guess: You didn’t think a ‘real man’ should go talk to a counselor?” He nodded, even more slowly. She rolled her eyes. “You are such a guy sometimes,” she informed him, and a puff of laughter escaped his lips. “Seriously though, you’d never catch a girl thinking that counseling is unnecessary and that they just have to tough through the awful things in life.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her and said dryly, “No, but I bet you I could find a girl who thinks that she ought to work herself into a state of blindness in order to pay down her medical bills.”
“Touché,” she grumbled, and he grinned. “Fine, so we both have things we need to work on. The point is, I’ve worked on my shit. It’s time for you to work on yours.”
He pulled her against him, tucking her head against his chest as he held her in his arms. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said softly. “Everyone thinks of Wyatt as being the one in the family who needs help. People think that I have an easy life. I try my best to get along with everyone; I haven’t gotten in a fist fight since the 9th grade, and he deserved it.” Iris laughed silently against his chest. He was right – Peter Rhamos did deserve it. He was picking on Ivy, and Declan stood up against him, just like he always stood up to the bullies of the world. “No one knows what it’s really like to be me.”
She draped her arms around his neck, running her fingers through his hair as they cuddled close. “It’s true,” she said into the stillness. “You make it all seem easy. Even as close as we were, I didn’t know. If I’d had any idea of what you were going through…”
“You would’ve pitied me, and 20-year-old me wouldn’t have dealt well with that,” Declan said bluntly. “Even 35-year-old me isn’t liking the situation all that much.”
She continued to stroke her fingers through his hair. “Dec, it isn’t pity, like you’d feel for a homeless puppy dog,” she said softly into his ear. “It’s understanding. You make a lot more sense when parts of you aren’t completely hidden from me.”
“When have I ever confused you?” he protested.
She rolled her eyes, even as she kept her head snuggled up against him. “Ummmm…there was that time that you broke up with me for no reason whatsoever,” she reminded him.
“Oh.”
He didn’t seem to have much else to say to that, but Iris couldn’t stop. Not yet. “There was also that time you insisted that Miller boys are row crop farmers, not pig farmers, and were rude to Mr. Harther.”
He didn’t seem to have much to say to that either, and Iris decided to have pity on him and stop while she was ahead.
“Thank you for telling me,” she whispered. “It means a lot that you trusted me enough to tell me the truth.”
His arms were wrapped around her and he was stroking his hands through her hair, slowly, languidly, comfortingly. “I should’ve done it a long time ago. I know that now. We wasted a lot of time that we could’ve been—”
She pulled back and placed her index finger on his lips, stopping him. “Regrets won’t fix any of this,” she said, staring him straight in the eye. “We can’t go back in time and fix anything. And you know what? I don’t know if I’d want to, anyway. If it wasn’t this, it probably would’ve been something else. We were just kids. I didn’t know what I wanted, not really. I loved you…as much as a teenager can love anyone. But it’s a lot deeper, and it means a lot more, now that we’re adults. We can choose to be together, and we can keep making that choice, over and over again. For the rest of our lives.”
“I think we ought to choose to be together right now,” Declan said, his eyes hooded and dark with lust.
“I like how you think,” Iris sighed, and then they reenacted the first time they made love, but this time, there was knowledge and passion and wisdom, along with lust.
She was right, of course. Everything was better now that they were adults.
Epilogue
Iris
Early May 2018
She looked around the Miller family barn, taking in its thick wooden rustic beams bedecked with strings of white lights and hay bales stacked in the corner. Considering that it was Stetson’s barn, the irony was thick that he was the only one of the brothers who didn’t get married in it. Jennifer didn’t seem to mind, though.
“Helping other people plan their weddings is a lot more fun than planning your own,” she said conspiratorially to Iris one day. “Especially if your mother likes to hover, like mine does, and especially if you’re dealing with pregnancy hormones on top of everything else.”
Iris’ hands touched her flat stomach for a moment. If she was pregnant, she didn’t know it. It wasn’t for a lack of trying, though, that was for sure. She grinned to herself.
It was just a couple of hours until their wedding and reception would begin. It was crazy to think that it was in this barn, just a little over seven months ago, when she tried to hide from Declan behind Ms. Stout.
Getting caught staring at him was, hands down, the best thing that had ever happened to her. Other than maybe becoming his Spanish tutor. Or when he asked her out for the first time. Or when he asked her out for the second first time. That was pretty damn awesome.
No, really, when he finally told her the truth about his dyslexia and ended up proposing to her – that was the best thing that ever happened to her.
All because of pigs. If she’d told her teenage self that someday, she’d be thrilled that the love of her life was brave enough to raise pigs, she probably would’ve laughed until she peed her pants. Being a pig farmer’s wife hadn’t exactly been the stuff of teenage daydreams. She’d watched a lot of Disney movies in her lifetime, and she had yet to run into that particular storyline.
But somehow, with Declan, it just felt right. Everything with Declan felt right.
“C’mon, Iris, you’ve got to go get ready,” Ivy said at her elbow, tugging her out of her wandering though
ts. “You can’t get married in that!”
Iris looked down at her beat-up Wranglers and dusty cowboy boots – her work attire she’d put on to help get the barn ready for their big night. She’d felt stable enough on her feet to actually help, although she was careful never to carry anything too terribly important…or breakable.
She let Ivy drag her towards Stetson’s farmhouse so she could put on her wedding dress…and cowboy boots.
The DJ called out to the gathering crowd, “The father of the bride has something he’d like to say, so y’all just quiet on down so he can talk.”
A ripple of laughter ran through the crowd, but people obediently hushed. Iris cocked her head to the side, curious what her father was going to say. Her mom was the talker. Her dad didn’t say much, even to his daughters.
Her dad took the mic and cleared his throat once, causing a feedback loop to erupt and shriek into everyone’s eardrums. The crowd busted up laughing, and instead of growing more anxious because of the problem, her dad just grinned down at the crowd instead. “I wanted to make sure y’all were awake,” he drawled.
Iris tucked herself in closer to Declan’s side as she laughed along with the crowd. Had her dad had a few beers before he got up there to speak? Whatever was going on, it was fun to see.
Declan’s hand ran up and down her right arm and she snuggled in even closer with a happy sigh. Being there next to him…it was where she wanted to be.
Always and forever.
“As y’all have probably figured out by now, Declan is my new son-in-law.” Her dad waited for the roar of the crowd to die down, and then continued, “Usually, a dad is sad to see his daughter marry and move on with her life, but in my case, all I can say is, ‘It’s about time.’”
The roar of laughter was even louder that time, and Iris turned her face into Declan’s chest with embarrassment. It was true that their courtship of 20 years was a little on the long side.
Declan’s chuckle reverberated through her. “Better late than never, right, sir?” he called out.
“Damn straight,” her dad said, straight-faced, and then shot Declan a grin. “If it takes years for you to pull your head out of your ass, well, at least you did it!”
This time, Declan’s laughter vibrated through his whole body, and Iris’ laughter matched it.
“C’mon, Dad, I finally convinced him to do this!” she called out. “Don’t go discouraging him now! He might change his mind!”
The crowd, in full laughter mode by this time, let out a howl at that. Declan pulled her up to his mouth and whispered, “Never,” sending shivers down her spine. She grinned up at him and he kissed her on the nose, growling possessively at her.
Finally, her dad turned serious, pulling their attention back to him. “Declan, I want to welcome you to the family. Thanks for all you’ve done for my Iris. Treat her well.”
“Yes, sir,” Declan called back.
“Usually, the first dance is a daddy-daughter dance,” her dad said, and sent her a misty-eyed glance. “But this time, I think Declan ought to have the honors.” He turned and whispered something to the DJ, standing off to the side, and with a nod of the head, the DJ pressed play. Strains of The Dance by Garth Brooks filled the air, and Iris felt her eyes fill with tears.
Looking down at her, Declan murmured, “May I have this dance?”
She nodded once, and clung to his arm as they walked out onto the sawdust dance floor. She could trust Declan to hold her up. She knew that now.
The crowd around them faded to a blur as she looked into Declan’s eyes. As they swayed together under the twinkle lights, he looked at her solemnly. “I will always hold you up,” he whispered to her.
Her smile grew tremulous at that. Somehow, he’d unconsciously echoed her exact thoughts. “I know that now,” she whispered back. Some part of her mind recognized the fact that other couples were moving out onto the dance floor, but none of that mattered now.
Nothing but Declan mattered now.
“Thank you for believing in me,” he whispered. “Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for loving me.”
Her smile went from tremulous to downright tearful. “Always,” she murmured, and buried her face against his chest. The haunting lyrics swirled around them as they moved to the music, and Iris knew that whatever happened, she could always trust Declan to be her rock, her guiding star…
Her love.
Curious about Ivy meeting “a guy” at the McLain 40th wedding anniversary party? Join her in Christmas of Love, where her carefully constructed life doesn’t go at all as planned…
Chapter 1
Ivy
Well, this party was exactly as exciting as Ivy McLain thought it was going to be.
Which was to say, not very exciting at all.
Of course, this was Sawyer, Idaho. What else could she expect?
She sighed. Only this, unfortunately. A bunch of old farmers, standing around and jawing about how their crops didn’t bring in enough money and there wasn’t enough water this past year, or maybe there was too much water, and the combine broke down in the field again…
It was enough to make Ivy’s head hurt. Why people intentionally chose to live this way was beyond her. Especially the cold part. She shivered, pulling her woefully inadequate jacket tighter around herself. Ugh. A little over two weeks before Christmas in Sawyer freakin’ Idaho. She should be grateful it wasn’t snowing, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be that saintly.
It was too cold to be grateful or saintly.
Her mom looked up from her discussion with Mrs. Frank about plans for next year’s garden, and waved. Ivy smiled as cheerfully as she could – which was to say, not cheerfully at all – and huffed out a breath. If she didn’t love her parents so much, she never would’ve made herself come back here. Thank God it was just a weekend visit. To actually live in Sawyer again…
Another shiver ran through her – from disgust or cold, she couldn’t tell – and she spun on her heel to head towards the refreshment table. She’d make herself some hot cocoa and—
“Oof!” she gasped, when she ran into a brick wall.
She looked up to see…
Well, the cutest brick wall she’d ever laid eyes on. The phrase “tall, dark, and handsome” was definitely appropriate. Thick brown hair just long enough to run her fingers through, and the most piercing emerald green eyes she’d ever had the pleasure to see. Whiplash quick, he reached out a hand to steady her, gripping her elbow to keep her upright.
“Howdy,” he said, pushing his cowboy hat a little further up on his head. In his hand was a mug of mulled apple cider.
An empty mug of mulled apple cider, because she’d spilled it all over him with her clumsiness.
The world froze as she realized what she’d done. Dammit all, she was a waitress! She knew how to navigate in tight spots. What on earth was she doing, running people over like that? A painful silence stretched between them, a chasm as she stared at the damage she’d wreaked.
And then the dam broke, and the words came tumbling out.
“So sorry!” she gasped, looking at his jacket, covered in a brown liquid that was now dripping off onto the frozen ground. “So, so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going and then you were there and…let me help clean you up. It’s the least I can do.” Not waiting for his response, she began dragging him towards the refreshment table, thankfully only a few feet away. She’d get him cleaned up and on his way, and then she’d run and hide in her parent’s broom closet.
Preferably for the next year or so.
“No worries!” he said with a low chuckle as he hurried along behind her. She stopped abruptly at the table and began grabbing the paper towels. “This jacket needs to be dry cleaned anyway,” he continued. “Kept meaning to take it on over to the Wash ’N Spin, but haven’t had—”
Which is when she started patting his face dry, and he had to shut up. Dammit, dammit, dammit. She’d gotten apple cider everywhere. How on earth
did she get it on his earlobe?! She was patting him dry and trying really hard to ignore his strong jaw covered with a light dusting of dark brown hair and green eyes and–
Just get this done already, Ivy!
Her pats were coming a little slower, though, as she got caught up in his gaze. They were only inches apart from each other, and sure, her hands were filled with dirty paper towels, and sure, his jacket was sticky to the touch from the cider, but in that moment?
None of that mattered.
All she could do was stare at him. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, her breath uneven.
“My name is Austin Bishop,” he said, breaking the silence between them. “And yours is?”
Right. Name.
She probably should’ve thought to introduce herself before she put her hands all over his body, but better late than never, right?
“Ivy McLain,” she said, proud that she could get her name out at all. She sounded breathless, but she was breathless, so there wasn’t much to be done about that.
“I thought you looked like Iris,” he said, with what was possibly the cutest grin she’d ever seen on a man’s face.
“People say I look like her,” Ivy said with a shrug, happy to note that her voice didn’t sound quite as breathless as it had before. “I don’t see it, personally.”
“You don’t see…” His voice trailed off and he cocked an eyebrow at her in disbelief. “You two could be twins,” he said bluntly.
Ivy threw her head back and laughed. It was sweet of him to say, of course. And she wasn’t going to be coy and demure and say that it wasn’t true – even though it really wasn’t – in an attempt to get him to give her more compliments.
