Page 118 of Tracking Wolfe

“Our family,” I murmured.

His grin widened as he nodded. “Our family. And I thought what better way to propose than a search and rescue dog carrying your ring. Because I need you to know, Wolfe Marian, that wherever you go, I will follow. And if you’re ever lost, I will find you.”

The tears came immediately. “I know,” I whispered.

He fumbled the bow on the ribbon until he could slide the ring off and place it on my finger. “And that’s not the only thing I need you to know,” he continued, holding my hand in his. “I have loved you most of your life. I have loved you from your gap-toothed Cub Scout days to your pimple-faced awkward stage. From your prickly teenager years to the moment you turned up on the wharf, lost and questioning everything. In all that time, I watched you grow and mature, learn who you were and what kind of man you wanted to be. And then I got to see you embrace a new path, bring music and joy to people through the foundation, and then music and joy to people through your own songs. Even though I didn’t know it was you at the time, I watched you bring love and understanding into people’s lives as Fletcher Coe. I was one of those people. I am one of those people.”

I sniffled and whispered. “You know the answer is yes, right?”

He pressed a smiling kiss on the back of my hand. “I do. But I’m not done yet.”

I laughed wetly through my tears as he continued. “I watched you become a man, confident and brave. Creative and exceptional. And now it would be the greatest honor of my life to walk beside you as an equal, growing and adventuring together from here on out. I love you with everything I am. You are the very heart of me, Wolfe Marian. Will you marry me?”

A sob ripped out of me while I yanked him up and into my arms, murmuring yes over and over as if there was ever any doubt. Suddenly, there was thunderous applause from the kitchen, and someone shouted, “He said yes!”

I laughed into Trace’s kiss. “I can’t believe you did this.”

He cupped the back of my head and pressed happy kisses all over my face. “I made myself wait six months so I wouldn’t look like a gold digger in the media.”

I gaped at him.

“I’m kidding,” he said with a laugh. “Derek said if I didn’t wait a year before proposing, he’d refuse his permission.”

I rolled my eyes. “It definitely hasn’t been a year.”

Trace’s eyes sparkled. “Nope. Because we don’t need their permission.”

He kissed me again as Chickie’s tail thumped an excited rhythm on the old wooden floorboards beside us. When we finally made it into the kitchen, there was a roar of cheers.

The first person waiting at the kitchen door was Papa, eyes bright with tears. “Fucking finally.”

I gave him a big hug, whispering how much I loved him and how grateful I was that he was here to celebrate with us.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he said in a teary voice.

I moved next into my dad’s strong arms, his hug familiar and reassuring. “We love you so much. Both of you,” he grunted into my hair. “So fucking proud of you.”

Rosie and Lennon were next, offering big hugs and congratulations. We moved past them to the rest of my Legacy family and all the uncles and cousins who’d made the trip. Through it all, Trace kept a hand on me, whether our fingers were tangled together or his palm was a warm, steady presence on my lower back.

He made a habit of claiming me like that in public, at SERA, and at family functions, and I loved every minute of it. When I’d asked him about it once, he’d crinkled his forehead and looked at me in confusion. “Because you’re mine,” he’d said. As if that explained it.

And maybe it did.

It took me a minute to realize that there were a few new faces in the room.

“Brennan?” I said in surprise. “Imani, Lena! Oh my gosh. Thierry and Armand. What are you all doing here?”

I went around the group, giving everyone a hug.

Thierry tapped his beer bottle against the one Rosie had handed me. “Congratulations, old friend. We wouldn’t miss your celebration for the world. Now… should we call you Will or Wolfe or Fletcher?”

Everyone looked eager to learn the answer. “Wolfe,” I said with confidence. “I’m sorry for the confusion.”

He shook his head. “We completely understand. And we all want you to know we’re honored you trusted us enough to share your music and yourself with us on the road. No matter what your name is, you’ll always be one of us, yeah?”

I clinked his bottle again and raised it to my camping friends. Before I could say the words, Lena grinned and said them first. “To what the fuck!”

Everyone with a drink in their hand repeated it, and several of the Marians added a “To Wolfe and Trace” after it.