The smell of cinnamon coffee pulled me from sleep. I inhaled deeply, stretching my arms above my head. I knew he wouldn’t be there, but I reached over absently, feeling Lincoln’s side of the bed still warm.
On a little moan, I leaned over and grabbed his pillow, inhaling the scent left behind. My heart made a happy little tumble at the intoxicating mix of pine, smoke, and good-smelling man.
Pulling myself out of bed, I wrapped myself in a fluffy robe. Winter was clinging desperately to the Montana mountains, and the morning chill lingered.
I padded down the large wooden stairs of the Big House, feeling the smooth, dark wood of the railing under my hands. I still couldn’t believe I lived here. The house needed work, but over the winter, Lincoln had taken advantage of the slow season and worked doubly hard to fix it up.
Windows had been replaced, loose porch boards repaired. Once spring finally broke, we planned to give the house and the expansive wraparound porch a fresh coat of white paint. I loved seeing the old house come to life and transform into a beautiful home. Our home.
I turned the corner into the wide, open kitchen. On the island, I found a fresh pot of coffee and a note from Lincoln.
Morning run, then helping the old man in the barn. Come find me so I can kiss you.
-L
Happy little butterflies danced in my stomach. With one look, that man could still make me feel like the prettiest girl in the room. I couldn’t wait to find him and cash in on that kiss.
I often found little notes around the house or in my truck or backpack from Lincoln. He said once that it was to make up for all of the times he didn’t respond to my letters. He didn’t know it, but I kept every single one—even if they were unimportant or silly—tucked away in a shoebox. His notes made me feel special, just like the bracelet he made me our first night camping. It didn’t really match anything I owned, but taking it off didn’t feel right, so it had become a part of me, a lot like Lincoln.
I tucked the note into the pocket of my robe, poured myself a hot cup of coffee, and walked out onto the back porch. Quiet mornings in that exact spot were my favorites.
I tucked my legs under me and let the coffee warm my hands as I watched the fog lift off the water. The river wound around the small hills and fields of our property.
Home.
Lincoln and I were making a home here, and it was shaping up to be pretty incredible. Mr. Bailey begrudgingly ate dinner with us most nights, and he was teaching me how to play poker. On chilly nights, Lincoln and I would light a fire and watch the flames dance in the fireplace while we talked about the fishing business, Project Eir, and our dreams of building something that truly connected people in our community to nature.
I still couldn’t believe how I ended up finding my home in Chikalu Falls after all these years.
One morning on the back porch, Lincoln had come up behind me, wrapped me in his strong arms, and whispered, “Baby, look around. This… all this? It’s yours.”
I leaned my head back and nuzzled the scruff on his jaw. “No,” I said. “It’s ours.”
Sipping my coffee, I remembered Lincoln’s letter and how electric it felt when he ran off the porch toward me. He couldn’t get to me fast enough. Me.
There were still some days I couldn’t believe that Lincoln Scott was mine. He still tended to be growly and overprotective, but I understood him, and he accepted me for exactly who I was.
I was so proud of Lincoln, too. He continued to go to therapy to deal with the weight of his experiences in the military. His nightmares still scared me, but with the help of his therapist, they were becoming fewer and further between. Lincoln swore up and down that the best thing to do when he had them was to be there and hold him.
Finn’s dream of us guiding together finally came true. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense running competing businesses, and with Project Eir taking up a lot of my time, serving fishing groups with Finn didn’t even feel like work. Although, I still vetoed the new names he tried to come up with. (FiLiJo? Ew. No.)
By working so closely with Finn, Lincoln was able to work behind the scenes for the business, and that made him much happier. Occasionally he would join us, but he was most content when it was quiet around the office. That also allowed Lincoln and Finn to start to focus less on their business and more on being brothers.
We met the man Finn had started dating about a month ago. He owned a coffee shop in Bozeman and met Finn while he was in town. Finn said that sparks flew over lattes, and that was it for him. He and Lincoln bonded over the merits of The Punisher versus Daredevil, but I was still not really sure if they were talking about movies or what. Regardless, seeing Lincoln and Finn’s relationship grow over the past several months had been amazing.
Before moving to Chikalu Falls, I thought I had everything I needed, but someone to love. Turns out that I also needed a home, friendships, and to truly belong. I think Pop would be happy to know I’d set down roots in his hometown, and now I could bring flowers by the cemetery. I went there sometimes to tell him and Gram all about how much my life has changed.
Lincoln
I had worked like a dog all week trying to get the barn ready. Joanna had gotten it in her head that horses would be the next logical addition to Project Eir. She claimed that not only were horses therapeutic, but they would make a more memorable experience for the veterans and clients who camped on our land. That girl sure could dream big.
I knew it would take a while, but I was going to be damn sure that Joanna’s dreams came true. Funny thing is, somewhere along the line, her dreams and mine got all tangled up and I really couldn’t separate the two.
Tonight, the trout were running so I encouraged her to fish along the bank. Watching my girl fish was one of the most peaceful parts of my week. Her legs were strong as she waded out into the river. The water rippled and danced, reflecting pinks and oranges from the fading sunset. She was silhouetted, but I could tell she had found her rhythm. Back and forth she moved, casting and moving with the water.
I touched a hand to my pocket. I didn’t carry Joanna’s letter with me anymore—I didn’t need to when I had the real thing to come home to every night. I had put the letters away in a lockbox to keep them safe, and every so often, we’d take them out and I would read them with her. I loved to tell her why something made me laugh or what my favorite part of a particular letter had been.
Tonight, I didn’t carry a letter with me. Instead, my hand felt the outline of the ring I had picked out. I knew Joanna didn’t need anything fancy, but screw that. With some help from her sister, Honey, I had designed a ring that was feminine and bold and a little bit vintage. When I saw the mock-up, I knew it had to be hers.
The diamond was probably a little big, but I was going to marry the fuck out of that girl and everyone was going to know it. I smiled and shook my head at that thought. I might pretend to wear the pants in this relationship, but everyone in three counties knew Joanna had me wrapped around her finger.
It felt like it took forever for the ring to be ready. I would have married her months ago, but she deserved for everything to be perfect. Knowing Joanna, perfect for us was here—outside on a gorgeous night with the sun setting and our home waiting for us at the top of the hill. Honey insisted on an engagement party tomorrow, but tonight would be the two of us, wrapped up in each other.
Standing, I looked at her, and my heart beat faster. That’s one hell of a view.
