Page 157 of We Drank the Dawn

“I promise I’ll wait right here.”

“All this”—he pointed behind him—“has been me killing time until I get to be with you. Now that you’re here, I don’t care about any of it.” He turned his face down the bleacher. “You know what? Just go to the box with me. How do we get you down here?”

“There’s an opening at the end.”

He nodded. “Alright. I’ll follow you.”

Reluctantly, I let go of his hand and pushed toward the opening. My heart beat in my throat and my limbs trembled. Looking down, I saw Peter following a step behind me. His head was tipped toward the ground, but the brackets on his cheeks proved he was smiling. The realization made an instant smile bloom on my cheeks, too.

At the staircase, I turned and flew down the stairs. He waited at the bottom, his palm upward in front of him, waiting to hold my hand again. Face to face, I fought the urge to wrap myself around his neck. Every molecule in my body wanted to, but I’d just filed to divorce this man. We had a lot to talk through, and I had questions to ask. So much, so many.

But I couldn’t deny the truth—the light in his eyes already held so many answers. His heart was open and free. And his cage of darkness was nowhere to be found.

My Peter was back.

He pressed his lips together, thinking for a moment. “Can I hug you?”

“Please,” I whispered.

There, at the bottom of the steps, I dropped my backpack as my husband pulled me into his arms. I went to my tiptoes, looping my arms around his neck as his arms banded around my waist. Together, we both exhaled with relief, tension slipping from our bodies.

The entire world around me faded into oblivion—the overhead speakers, the cheers of the crowd, the chilly wind whipping around us. I was only aware of Peter. His breath, his warmth, his heartbeat.

He dipped his face into the curve of my neck, murmuring my name. His hands were open, flat, pressing me flush against him as he explored the length of my back, trailing up my spine and down to my hips. Oh, those hands—I missed them so much. Every inch they moved made me feel crazed, desperate to work out our issues.

A thousand hugs from the past wrapped around me as I remembered all the times Peter’s love had healed me. All the times I ran to his open arms because there weren’t any at home. All the times his hands anchored me when life left me unmoored. All the times he encouraged me to cry, and I let go as he pressed me against his heart.

I blinked back tears, wanting to let go right now, but knowing this wasn’t the place.

But my warm feelings screeched to a halt as his fingers skimmed the back of my neck, sinking into the base of my hair. He froze in surprise. Then his fingers continued, running up until they gently kneaded the back of my head, the short strands brushing against his palm. Pulling back just a little, he whispered over my ear, “You cut your hair?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said bitterly.

“You regret it?”

“Immensely.”

“It’ll grow back.” His fingers scraped against my scalp a bit more firmly, and I had to fight to keep from buckling at the knees. “For what it’s worth, I like the way it feels.”

I smiled against his collarbone as he pressed me closer again, relishing in the fact that he wasn’t letting me go just yet. My hands roamed, noting the new strength in his shoulders as my fingers trailed to the back of his head, wanting to touch his hair but finding the felt band of his hat instead. A laugh bubbled up from deep in my gut, and I couldn’t stifle it as I imagined the birdseye view of us—me hugging a cowboy.

He laughed a little, too. “What?”

“You look like a cowboy.” I turned my face up to see him.

He tipped his head down for me, letting me look into his eyes. “I almost backed out when I realized I had to dress up.”

I smiled. “So this is dress up?” I pinched the front of his shirt. “Not your typical wear on the ranch?”

“Not at all.”

“Well, I like it. You look good. You look happy.”

His hand came up, his fingers slipping around the curve of my cheek. It took all my self-control not to lean into his palm like a kitten. “There’s a lot to say, Sarah.”

“I know.”

“As soon as we get back to the ranch.”