Page 66 of Hometown Cowboy

That was the only thing that mattered.

That distinct, sharp sense of being where he was supposed to be. A sensation of complete and utter contentment that hadn’t been a part of his life in so long—if ever—that he’d failed to recognise it for what it really was.

Max had said the love was all around him.

He was right.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The insistent poundinginterrupted her dreamless sleep. Darby hit the touch lamp on her nightstand and flinched back, her forearm moving over her eyes in deference to the sudden light.

Lightning flashed outside her bedroom windows, the crack of thunder rolling shortly after. She jumped, her heart racing at the sound. Rain pounded the world outside into submission.

She sat up and cocked her head to the side, listening, but it was hard to hear anything over the drum of the rain and the incessant storm.

Bang, bang, bang.

There it was again. It certainly wasn’t the storm. Someone was at her front door.

She glanced at the digital clock. It was just after three. Who in their right mind would be out there in this downpour? It certainly wasn’t Gabe, he had a key. Some poor soul must be lost or stuck out there.

Darby grabbed her short white satin robe and belted it over her tiny lacy chemise. Usually she wore nothing to bed, but it had been colder again this evening, and she’d thrown it on, on a whim. She didn’t really own any long and warm pyjamas, she liked pretty lingerie too much.

She padded down the hall toward the front door, her bare feet silent on the polished floorboards. Thunder vibrated the house under her feet. She bit back a scared squeak. The rolling thunder made her shiver. Heck, she hated the noise. This was one hell of a storm. Her heart went out to whoever it was who was unfortunate enough to be caught out in it.

Darby reached the door and pulled it open, blinking against the lightning flashes and squally rain that swirled in drenching drifts past the edge of her porch. A tall, miserable figure stood hunched in their shirt in the relative safety of her deep porch. The wind caught the edge of her robe and tore it free of her hastily tied belt. She grabbed at the edges and wrapped her arms around herself to hold it closed, squinting into the surreal light to distinguish who was there.

“Quick, come in! You must be freezing!” she exclaimed, the late hour and having been woken from a heavy sleep destroying her normal inhibitions about inviting strangers into her home.

Darby stepped back to allow the person entry, the lamp on the stand behind her casting a dim halo of light into the open doorway. The stranger stepped forward and lifted his head, the eyes staring at her from between bedraggled hanks of hair betraying the depth of his torment.

“Ryan? Oh my God, what’s happened?”

He took a step toward her and his face crumbled. “I remember us,” he whispered. “Darby, I—”

He dropped to his knees before her and buried his face in her stomach, his arms grabbing her tight around the waist and holding on as if his life depended on it.

“I remembereverything. You, the wedding night, the weeks afterward. When I-I proposed… Parts of the damned accident. I’m so sorry.” His voice broke on the words, his sobs tearing from him, the pain in it gripping her soul and twisting hard.

He really remembers.

Darby cupped his head in her hands against her and stroked his sopping hair. Silent tears welled, her own chest heaving with long suppressed emotion.

He shook so hard, from exposure to the icy rain or from his revelation, Darby wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was both. She sank to her knees in front of him and cupped his face between them.

A tremulous smile wobbled at the edges of her mouth as she lifted his head to look at her. “This is more than I could ever have hoped for,” she whispered.

She couldn’t help it, she had to tell him. “I don’t know if it’s something you want to hear, but I love you, Ryan. I think I always have.”

His hazel eyes held the ragged edges of his severe pain. How he must feel, torn between not remembering, and what he now knew. Darby kissed his forehead, trying to ease his agony.

“I love you too, Darb.” His soft voice was nearly drowned out by the raging storm outside.

Surprise flooded her. He really felt that way? And was prepared to admit it?

“Are you sure? I mean, I know you care for me, but love me? I’d be more than happy if—”

He raised a hand to her face, cutting off her words. His trembling fingers stopped just shy of her cheek, as if afraid to touch her. Darby’s heart went out to him, the lost look on his face too much to bear. She turned her head the small amount to make contact with his hand.