“Willow. Take a breath. Yes, I’m sure.” Sam put his truck into park, then turned to her.
The sun hung low, gilding the parking lot of the Gray Pony a rich amber and streaking the horizon with tones of magenta and lavender. With the twilight sparkling in Willow’s hazel-blue eyes, Sam knew Sierra was right.
He didn’t deserve Willow. Not the way she reached out and loved him, so much abandon in her smile, her laughter, her heart right there for him to hold. She’d taken all the darkness in his life, turned it inside out, and left only light.
And so much life he could hardly take a full breath, even still, with the enormity of loving her.
She gave him a shy grin, and he cupped his hand on her cheek, ran his thumb down her impossibly soft skin. “I am crazy about you,” he said, the words dropping from him easily.
“Just remember, I kissed you first,” she said.
He took her hand, pressed it to his mouth. “Maybe we can keep that to ourselves.”
Then he got out, went around, and opened her door. She tucked her hand into the pocket of his arm and headed inside.
The music—Ben’s hot new single, only three weeks old—spilled out through the doors. Sam spotted Ben King and his daughter, Audrey, at the mic, playing dueling guitars. Then Ben stepped back to the mic.
Girl, I see you across the dance floor
And when you smile, I can’t take it no more
The music is low, the beat has a name
It’s singing our song, no more waiting game . . .
Glancing to the front, Sam met Ben’s gaze. The singer nodded a greeting mid-chorus. Sam spotted Kacey seated at the front on her regular stool, sipping a signature root beer.
Sam headed for the table in back, near the dart board, where Gage was trying to teach Sierra how to throw, and was standing behind her, lifting her arm.
Ian leaned against the wall, not far away, his arms folded across his chest, mouth tight, watching. He glanced at Sam.
Sam interlaced his fingers through Willow’s, pulling her along.
It was about time they made their debut.
Jess sat in the booth, laughing, and it only took a second to see why—Gopher the puppy squirmed on her lap, fighting for a slurp on her chin. Jackson, Terri, and the kids had extended their vacation yet another week more.
Ty sat beside her, his arm up over the top of the booth. Not exactly with his arm around her, but . . . Sam now understood why Pete stood away from them, at the bar, near Ian. Close enough to be a part of the group but far away enough to be able to make a quick escape.
Sam wasn’t going to let him get too far.
Ben’s song ended to the applause of the crowd, and he announced a break.
Sierra tossed the dart, and it landed in the outer circle. She high-fived Gage, then turned and spotted Sam and Willow.
Grinned, not a hint of malice.
Beside him, Sam could feel Willow relax. Sam pulled her in, his lips to her ear. “Told ya,” he said, then kissed her cheek.
She offered a smile, but when her gaze flickered past him into the crowd, it faded.
He turned, spotted Josh and Ava, who were lifting their hands in a wave.
Not far away, Senator Starr sat with Carrie and Pastor Hayes.
Which meant, hopefully, Quinn and Bella hadn’t had to pull a Romeo and Juliet to get back together.
However, Sam said to Willow, “I’ll be right back,” and let go of her hand. He weaved through the crowd.
Sam had overheard Quinn those few precious seconds when he’d waited for Pete to get into position.
“He could have sent Pete. Or Gage. Or Ty . . . But it was his panicked voice that said, I’m coming for you.”
Right then, Sam had wanted to pick up Quinn and give him a swat on the back—okay, maybe even a man hug. Because his words clicked into place for Sam too.
He had been panicked. Nothing was going to stop him from finding and rescuing Willow. Not just because she needed him, but because he loved her.
Suddenly, everything that Chet and Sierra and even his mother had been trying to say to him clicked into place.
He did need rescuing—not because he made stupid mistakes, although yeah, that was a given. And not because he was reckless or took chances, but because if he didn’t occasionally fall, then he’d never be saved.
And if he was never rescued, then he would never know how much God loved him. He’d never experience grace.
Maybe Quinn needed a little grace on his side too.
“Hey, Senator Starr,” Sam said, holding out his hand. The senator got up, met his grip.
“I wanted to thank you for saving Quinn, again,” the senator said.
“No, actually, I should thank you. See, when I was hiking out after the van crash, Quinn saved my life. He kept me alive and got help. Apparently, he learned those survival skills from you.”