Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

August 30, 2012 Jackson, Wyoming

Sloane approached Maria’s front door with a smirk. She’s sure gotta lot to tell me, and I sure gotta lot to tell her. She knocked on the front door and waited for her to appear. When she did, Maria was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, and her face was glistening with sweat as if she’d been working out. 

She let out a heaving sigh and leaned against the door with a smile. “Just the girl I’ve been wanting to talk to. I’d say make yourself at home, but you do that everywhere you go anyway.” 

Sloane laughed at the jest and followed Maria into the living room. Many of her belongings were either stacked together in neat piles or put away in taped up boxes. 

Sloane sunk into the couch with a shake of her head. She began to count on her fingers as she spoke. “First you ain’t tell me you got back with Tommy. Second, the baby. And third, movin in with him?” She huffed a light laugh. “Careful, Ria. I might start thinkin we ain’t as gooda friends after all.” 

Maria gave her an apologetic frown. Her stomach had barely begun to grow round, just now showing evidence of her pregnancy. She looked healthy and happy, and it made Sloane smile to herself. 

Maria waved a hand at Sloane. “Oh, don’t be like that, Slo. Everything is just moving faster than I can keep up with. You’ve got to believe that you were one of the first people I wanted to tell.” 

“I know it. Just givin you a hard time. But I’m here now, so spill the fuckin beans,” Sloane teased as she crossed her legs to get comfortable. 

Maria wiped the sweat from her brow and sat down in a recliner. “Well…in late June, Tommy came over here, and we had a good long talk. It was so good and long that we stayed up until the sun rose discussing us and everything in between. At first, I was beating myself up about it because of what he put me through, but I let go for whatever reason and went with the flow. After that night, we started being around each other nearly every day. I know how foolish I sound, but it felt so much different this time around like he was really showing up to the plate.”

Sloane listened intently, noticing the faint sparkle in Maria’s eye as she talked about Tommy. That was all the proof she needed.

Her friend continued talking. “He didn’t hold back the way he normally does, and he started telling me things I wasn’t ever aware of. I felt like I was seeing him for the first time and vice versa. I don’t know, Sloane. We started sleeping together again because it just felt right. When I found out about the baby, I wasn’t nervous to tell him. He lit up like the Fourth of July when I gave him the news like I figured he would. Shortly after, he talked about me moving into his house, and I agreed. It feels like the puzzle pieces are finally falling into place, and I can’t remember a time when I was so…excited for what was coming next.” Maria let out a soft sigh and shrugged her shoulders.

“Honest to God, Ria, I’m so happy for you both. I didn’t want to say nothin, but I was secretly rootin for ya’ll to get back together. I woulda supported you in anythin but…” 

“I know what you mean because I was too. Thank you.” Maria smiled. She clapped her hands together. “Now I made my mouth dry just talking that much, so I’m going to get some water. Do you want anything? Whiskey?” 

Sloane raised her brows and smiled guiltily. “Water’ll do just fine.” 

Maria squinted her eyes. “There’s only one reason you’d turn down whiskey. Are you…?”

Sloane nodded. “Guilty. According to my kid sister turned doctor, Tristan, I’m about eight and a half weeks right now.”

The whites of Maria’s eyes largened, and her mouth was agape. “Holy shit! That’s about how far along I am. And here you are getting onto me about not telling you stuff!”

“I only just found out on my birthday. I was too busy lookin for your doctor in Salt Lake City to tell you,” Sloane teased. 

Her dark brows furrowed as she held up a finger. “Wait a minute. Tristan? Your sister is Doc Green?” 

“Sure is. Don’t ask me how I found her or what cause I ain’t even sure what to say other than fate. I didn’t know whether she was alive or dead anyway cause last I heard she was in Phoenix.”

The shock hadn’t left Maria’s face. “That’s so…” 

Sloane nodded and laughed. “I know it. And get this. I’m havin twins.” 

“Holy shit.” Her friend rested her smiling face in her hands and shook it. “I think my face is going to start hurting here in a minute because I can’t stop smiling. I’m so happy for you.”

Sloane reached out a hand and patted Maria’s knee. “I’m so happy for us. We deserve it.” 

“We sure do,” Maria agreed with a nod. “So, are you going to find out the gender right at eighteen weeks, or are you going to keep it a surprise?”

“I reckon so. Joel’s already tryna plot names, although he’s convinced that they’re both boys. Typical. And you?”

Maria let out a wistful sigh. “I think I’m going to keep it a surprise. After Kevin, I never imagined that I’d be having another one, so anything is a blessing to me, you know?” 

“I do indeed. As long as they’re healthy. You know me though. I’m too nosey for that. I need to know!” Sloane exclaimed with a light laugh.

“I still can’t believe it. Twins and reuniting with your sister? That’s some big stuff. I feel like I’ve missed an entire chapter.” 

“Tell me about it, Little Miss I don’t tell my friend about three important life events,” Sloane japed with a raised brow to which Maria laughed. Sloane interlocked her hands and put them across her chest. She leaned back into the couch. “Can you imagine we have them on the same day? That’d sure be somethin.” 

“Shit,” Maria smiled. “I’m starting to believe everything’s possible after what’s happened to you in the past month.” 

“Fuckin right,” Sloane agreed.

September 1, 2012 Jackson, Wyoming

The air had begun to grow cooler, and as Sloane looked at the tree’s leaves, there was an indication of change upon them. Most of them would stay green until late September, but she still saw flashes of orange and gold all the while. She’d just finished tending to the horses, and she decided to take Ruger on a leisurely walk. She was going to take care to not go too fast and stick to the confines of the commune since she’d been temporarily suspended from patrol. Sloane knew that it was in her and her babies’ best interest, but the inactivity had already begun to grind on her. Stagnation and stasis were Sloane’s natural born enemies, for she was born to roam.

Sloane hadn’t been able to enjoy her barrel racing course as much as she’d hoped to–not with Spice’s death and the subsequent training of Ruger. Right then, it was the perfect place to ride Ruger, as long as she avoided the barrels and kept to the fence. Sloane outfitted the Appaloosa and gave him a hearty pat. His dark brown eyes seemed to beckon for compensation. “We ain’t even rode yet, and you want treats?” Sloane scolded the stallion playfully. Ruger responded with a low nicker, and Sloane folded. She reached into the saddlebag and pulled out a small container of apple slices. “Alright, fine, you glutton. But only two.” Sloane handed them to him before getting herself onto the horse. The stallion inhaled the treats, so Sloane tapped him gently with her boot. “Go, Rug.” 

He obliged, and they began circling the course along its fence at a slow, even pace. Sloane couldn’t resist smiling. It had been a crazy month, and this normalcy—this muscle memory, brought her the greatest sense of peace. She preferred to see the world from atop a horse’s back. It was the most natural vantage point for her. 

“There’s fall in the air, can’t you smell it?” Sloane asked the horse.

Ruger stayed the course, and Sloane’s thoughts drifted to her dream about Joel guiding their child on a horse. Her instincts had been right to go to Salt Lake, so she wondered if her dream had somehow been prophetic of sorts. Are we havin a little boy? Two little boys like Jo thinks? The gender didn’t matter to Sloane one bit. She went from thinking she was permanently barren to carrying twins; she wasn’t going to start being choosy now. I wonder what names Jo’s been thinking about. I ought to ask him tonight. 

“What’re you doin, baby?”

Sloane turned her head and saw Joel standing on the first rung of the wooden fence and giving her a displeased look. Sloane bit her lip and pulled an innocent smile. 

“You know you ain’t supposed to be ridin,” He said with a lecturing finger.

”I know, but Ruger was restless and so was I. We’re just walkin is all.” Sloane shrugged.

”But nothin. Get off the horse and put him up.”

Sloane looked up at Joel from heavy brows. She continued protesting as she had Ruger do another turn. “It’s fine! Look how docile he’s bein!” 

Joel’s mouth twitched from his thin-lipped glance. He began climbing the second rung and swung his leg over with ease. Joel jumped down and stalked over to her. Sloane’s eyes widened, and she stopped the Appaloosa. Joel patted Ruger’s back and held an expectant hand out to her. Sloane exhaled sharply through her nose and stared at his hand—as bullheaded as ever.

”Get down, sweetheart. Don’t make me say it again.” His voice was edged in both irritation and sternness in equal measure. 

Sloane’s nose wrinkled. Sweetheart? When in the Sam Hill he ever call me that? Sloane raised her chin and called out to Ruger. “Down.” 

Ruger held up a dutiful, hooved foot for Sloan to step down onto—one of the many things she’d taught him. She knew that Joel was just being protective and sweet, but he was coming across as overbearing. She figured it probably bothered her so badly because asking her to not ride a horse was like asking her not to breathe. Sloane ignored Joel’s hand. She stepped onto Ruger’s hoof and got down. She grabbed his lead and began walking. “Come.” She heard her husband click his tongue, and she just rolled her eyes. “Can you believe the nerve of that man, Rug?” Sloane muttered to the stallion. 

She returned him to the stable and got him settled. Sloane turned around to find Joel watching her with his arms crossed. She didn’t have the energy to bicker with him. I done did what he told me, and he still ain’t happy? Sloane gave him a quick look and turned to leave the stables. 

Joel sighed. “C’mere baby. Don’t be like that.”

Sloane paused for a beat, but didn’t turn around. She continued walking.

”Sloane!” 

She sucked her teeth and kept walking. First ‘sweetheart’ then ‘Sloane’? It was enough to make her curl her lip.

Joel closed the distance between them and grabbed her arm. He pulled her against the wooden stable wall and blocked her in with both his arms. “What’s the deal, darlin?” 

Joel went to stroke her face but she shook him off. “I got off the fuckin horse, now can I go?” Sloane’s words were angry, but getting mighty close to tearful. She looked down to avoid his scrutinizing gaze. 

Joel cupped her cheek again, pressing it into her face. “Hey,” he began quietly. “I’m just tryin to keep you safe is all.”

Sloane bit her lip. “Ruger wouldn’t hurt a fly, and I’m experienced just fine.” 

“I know that, but accidents happen.” Joel put one hand on Sloane’s belly and rubbed it gently. It irritated her how her body betrayed her and leaned into his touch. She was cross with him. Joel noticed it straightaway and softened further still. “You don’t like bein told no or feelin stuck. I know that. And while I hate this for you just as much as you do, you’ve gotta take it easy, Mama.” 

An involuntary light sigh left Sloane’s lips. She swung her boots against the ground, kicking dirt up. “He’s gonna forget my touch—Ruger is. A handful of months of not ridin him?” Sloane remarked sadly.

”I’ve been ridin him every mornin just like you do. He’s a smart stallion.”

Sloane shook her head. “That ain’t what I meant. It’s more than that. It’s our bond.”

Joel pressed his hand against her belly harder, but still gentle. It was just enough to remind her. He brought his lips to her ears. “Let Daddy handle it, Slo.” Sloane brushed up against his lips and felt herself melting. Joel doubled down. “I’ll take care of it, Mama. But you’ve gotta take it easy for me, you hear?”

Sloane whimpered softly as Joel’s lips kissed the shell of her ear. If Sloane was an atomic bomb, Joel was a bomb technician, always disarming her and making her agree to a ceasefire. 

She looked up at him. "Can I still feed ‘em at least?”

Joel chuckled softly in her ear, his breath ghosting against her skin. “Yeah, baby. You and I’ll do it together. How does that sound?”

”I reckon I can agree to that, but if I can’t ride them, you’re shovelin the manure.”

”Fine, little savage.” He brought his lips to her and kissed her featherlight. “You still cross with me?”

”Kinda.”

”Let me make it up to you then.”

Her eyes creased into a mischievous smile. “What did you have in mind?” 

“I’m fixin to show you, but only if you promise to be quiet. Can you do that for me?” Joel said lowly, his voice full of gravel and desire.

”Yes,” Sloane agreed breathlessly. 

She watched as Joel’s calloused hands undid her belt. He unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. He looked down at her through hooded lids, and it was enough to make her heart feel like it was going to stop. Her body was not yearning, but screaming for his touch. 

“Be quiet now,” Joel warned her as he reached a hand under her panties. When his fingers met her folds, she exhaled sharply. It reminded her of their first sexual encounter, but this time she had the hindsight to know how it would end—her coming all over his fingers. Joel’s free hand moved up under her shirt and palmed her breast. He lifted it up just enough to expose one of her nipples. He leaned down and took it in his mouth, and he groaned around it. Hearing Joel react like that to her made her swallow hard. 

His middle finger did the brunt of the work, coaxing at her folds to make her even wetter than she already was. The only sounds coming from them were their soft sighs and the sounds of Sloane’s slick between her legs. Everything else had faded into the background. There could’ve been thirty people watching them, and Sloane wouldn’t have noticed, for all she saw was him. 

“As much as you pretend to be a hardass, you sure like when I tell you what to do,” Joel whispered in her ear before giving it a soft nip. “I can tell by how fuckin wet you are.” 

Sloane put her hand over her mouth to stifle her moans. She was going to try her best to be quiet if it was the last thing that she ever did because she wasn’t willing to jeopardize the magnificent feeling of Joel’s fingers between her legs. Joel pressed more open-mouthed kisses on her neck and around her ear as he continued to fondle her breast and her pussy. His breath had begun to blow onto her in hot huffs—something he did when he was desperately turned on. She looked down and saw his hardness press against the denim of his jeans, and the sight made her pussy flutter around his fingers. Joel trailed kisses to her other breast as he sunk another finger into her all the way to the knuckle. His thick fingers curled themselves inside of her, making Sloane lurch forward and wrapping her arms around Joel to gain stability. 

“I can’t. Oh fuck!” Sloane whimpered into his neck. Joel instinctively brought his thumb up to circle her clit, and her breath hitched. 

“You’re a needy fuckin thing, ain’t you?” Joel goaded her as he weaved his fingers through her hair and grabbed it in a bundle. 

“So fuckin needy,” Sloane echoed as her core tightened around his fingers. Her body spasmed again as her world began to dissolve into pleasure. 

Joel plunged his fingers in deeper and faster, and Sloane couldn’t fight the inevitable fire pooling in her abdomen. She grabbed a fistful of his hair while her other fingers dug into his back. She convulsed a few times against his hard body, and it took everything in her not to cry out his name. Instead, she buried her head into his neck and bit it to stifle her cries.

Sloane rocked her body onto his fingers a few more times after his orgasm. She felt the mess that they’d made in her underwear, but all she cared about was Joel’s body pressed up against hers. Sloane grabbed Joel’s face in her hands, and she pressed her mouth against his. Their teeth clicked together as she swirled her tongue around his and moaned into his mouth incessantly. 

When she pulled away from him, a stream of saliva was still connecting her to him. He withdrew his fingers, and Sloane was already mourning the loss of them. He pulled a rag from his jean pocket and wiped the remnants of her on it. He kissed her forehead while he zipped and buttoned her back up. He tightened her belt again, and his fingers skated back up to admire her small bump. 

“I’m downright sorry for the way I acted, Jo. This is just hard for me,” Sloane confessed with a small frown. 

“I know it is. But we’re gonna get through it how we always do. Together. Alright?”

Sloane gave him a sweet smile and a nod. A thought crossed her mind, and her lip curled into a smirk. “Never call me sweetheart again.”

”What’s so wrong with sweetheart?” Joel asked with dark furrowed brows.

”You ain’t never called me that until now when you were cross with me, therefore, I ain’t like it.” Sloane lifted her chin.

Joel huffed a laugh. “Consider it struck from my vocabulary then.”

Sloane gave him another quick peck before taking his hand in hers. “Good. Now c’mon. You’ve worked me up an appetite.”

Joel raised his eyebrows and patted her butt to urge her on. “Yes ma’am! Let’s go.”

October 2, 2012 Jackson, Wyoming

“Jo?” Sloane called out as she moved around the house looking for her husband. “I’m back!” 

She paused for a moment and waited for a response that never came. She’d returned from Maria’s baby shower at The Watering Hole and wanted to check up with him to see what he was up to. Sloane checked the entirety of the house and couldn’t find him, and then she nearly facepalmed herself when she realized where she hadn’t looked–the garage. 

Joel had converted the garage into his workshop, and he spent most of his free time there. It wasn’t just a place for his tools or where he met with Tommy to discuss building plans, it was his haven. There were some days entirely where he’d willingly spend his whole day there if he could. Sloane nearly vetoed the motion to move a couch in there for fear he’d never make it to bed. But her husband always crawled in there with her at the end of the night regardless. 

Sloane was glad that she had her hobbies, and he had his. His favorite, however, was woodworking. He’d made a series of twelve woodland animals in just one month. Sloane got to witness his fine workmanship first hand when he gave her that dark wooden acoustic guitar for her birthday those years ago. Joel not only worked with his hands; he breathed life into things with them. Sloane always told him that it was more than a hobby or a calling, but rather his art because she really felt as if he were an artist and the wood was his canvas. Joel had a beautiful singing voice, and he knew his way around a guitar, but woodworking was something else entirely. He lost himself in it.

Sloane opened the door to the garage quietly, and the air was filled with the loud whirring of a sander. Joel was wearing a white T-shirt, jeans, and protective goggles as he sanded his project. He took a pencil out and licked it before marking the wood. Joel returned the pencil to its resting spot behind his ear and resumed sanding. Jesus H. Christ. That’s a man, alright. He didn’t look up or notice her because he was too enthralled with what he was creating. Sloane leaned against the entrance of the door and continued to watch him with a smile. When she noticed the slender, twisted bars that he was fixing to a frame, she realized what he was making–a crib. There was an identical one sitting beside it. 

Sloane instinctively put her hand over her heart because the sight alone filled her with inexplicable appreciation. Joel could articulate his love through words just fine, but he preferred to do it through actions. That was when his love could properly be felt, through experiencing the things that he’d created. It was evident in every smoothed notch and every precise cut of the wood. 

Joel noticed Sloane gawking and powered off the tool. He pushed the protective goggles to his head and gave her a sweet smile. “I knew you’d come sniffin around eventually. I wasn’t fixin to show you until the two of them were done.” 

Sloane came over to Joel and ran her hand across the wooden rail. “I dunno how you keep doin it. Surprisin me.”

Joel gave her a humble shrug as he vaguely gestured with one hand. “Not much to see yet. I wanted to make some filigree details with a small bit once we find out what gender they are. Maybe a horse for a boy and some flowers for a girl. Put their names on the headboards once we decide. I dunno…”

Sloane’s brown eyes filled with tears. She huffed to herself and brushed them away. “Damned pregnancy hormones.” She shook her head softly. “They’re so beautiful already, I dunno how you’re goin to make them any better. But knowin you, you will.” 

Joel’s cheeks rounded into a pleased smile. He came over to her and gave her a hug as he rubbed the small of her back. “Makin this stuff is only half the fun. It’s who I’m makin it for that really makes everythin worthwhile. You appreciate the small things, and I reckon I always needed someone like that.”

Sloane raised her brows and pointed to the half-complete cribs. “This ain’t nothin small, Jo. Not by a longshot. Some women have husbands that don’t even clean their dishes, let alone ones who spend their free time makin them things with their own two hands. No, that’s special. You’re special.” More tears streamed down her face as she spoke; her words were reminding her of how lucky she really was. “I just have a hard time believin it’s my life sometimes. Like I won the fuckin, I dunno, mega-millions or somethin.” 

Joel chuckled softly into the crook of her neck. He put her hands in his face and kissed her tear-stained cheeks. “I know the feelin. Look who I married.” He gave her another squeeze before pulling away, but he still kept a hand snaked around her waist. “So have you given it any thought? The babies’ names?”

“I’m not quite sure yet,” Sloane admitted. “What about you?”

“First names I’m up the creek without a paddle on, but middle names, I think I gotta idea.”

“Well go awn,” Sloane beckoned him to continue.

“What do you think about the middle name Sarah for a girl, and Todd for a boy?” Joel asked. “Could be like our two angels watchin over them.” 

Sloane hugged Joel close again and squeezed him. All the pain and hardship that life had slapped her with had been well worth it because being with him was the outcome. “You gotta quit,” Sloane began with a tearful laugh. “You keep makin me cry! I love that idea, Jo.” 

Joel ran his hands through her hair and kissed her head. “So do I. If it’s two boys we can go with Thomas for Tommy, and if it’s two girls we can go with Tristan.”  

 “Sounds like a plan, partner,” Sloane nodded with a soft smile. She rubbed her eyes again and sighed. “So, need an assistant? I reckon you could teach me a thing or two.” 

Joel leaned over and grabbed another pair of protective glasses. He put them over Sloane’s eyes before clapping his hands together once. “Baby, I thought you’d never ask! Let’s get to it then. The first thing you’ve gotta know is equipment safety. Now…”

Joel’s words faded into a warble as Sloane admired him. He began to come alive as he explained the ins and outs to her, his hands moving wildly as he spoke. The creases in his eyebrows and around his mouth deepened as he focused. His large hands wrapped around one of the power tools as his thick fingers pointed to describe each button. Sloane knew that she should be listening, but all she could pay attention to was his exuberant passion for his craft and the joy he was experiencing due to doing it with his partner. 

October 22, 2012 Jackson, Wyoming

The inability to ride her horse had given her much more free time than she was traditionally used to, and Sloane was trying her hardest not to see that as a burden. There were so many possibilities for how she could fill it, that it seemed overwhelming. That compounded with the fact that in a few months, she wouldn’t have any free time at all on account of the twins, added to the pressure. Joel told her that it was a good problem to have–having free time, and while Sloane was trying to see it from that perspective, it was difficult. She was used to always being moving. Her pastimes in Jackson consisted of drinking whiskey, breaking mustangs, and singing atop the bar at The Watering Hole. Her present condition didn’t allow for that, so she was stumped. 

Sloane woke up to a cup of tea, a muffin, and a note from Joel on her nightstand. She heaved herself up into a sitting position and reached for the tea mug. Sloane gave it a cautious taste and upon finding that it was lukewarm, she took a big sip. Her brows furrowed as she reached for the note and saw her spiral bound songbook sitting under it. She’d realized then that she’d lost it somewhere in their transition of their new life, but what bothered her the most is she didn’t even notice it was gone. Sloane ran her fingers over the front cover that was collaged with stickers from the places that she’d performed in her career. It felt a bit as if she were creeping through a mausoleum as she did so because she knew that the majority of the places were now falling to disarray and disrepair. 

The largest sticker that was pressed in the middle was of a small cabin in the middle of a valley with the sun peeking out behind the roof, livestock in the pasture, and birds soaring through the sky. In bold red font read: ‘DOWN HOME HOLLER BAR’ and under it read ‘Nashville, TN.” It had been Sloane’s dream for as long as she could dream to perform at that bar because her hero, Loretta Lynn, had performed there when she was starting out her career. The bar had even gone far as to memorialize the stool that Loretta sat on when she was there plucking tunes on her guitar. 

The first time that Sloane went to Nashville, the bar wanted nothing to do with her, and she nearly felt like she wanted to lie down in the road because of it. But Todd told her that they weren’t going back to Pennsylvania until she went back inside and made them let her perform. Sloane could picture, even now, the proud smile on Todd’s face as she marched up with her guitar to the owner eating lunch. Sloane interrupted the man’s meal of chicken and waffles, forcing him to really listen to her sing.

After she finished, the owner looked up at her, threw his napkin on the table, and shook her hand, telling her to come back later that night to play. It was her gig at the Down Home Holler that got her signed to a small time label, so she made sure to put its sticker front and center of her songbook. It was to always remind herself that sometimes, you need to make room for yourself at the tables you want to sit, even if the people at it won’t make it for you. 

Sloane began to read the letter from Joel:

Morning sleepyhead,

You were out like a light, and I didn’t want to wake you. Going to Tommy’s to discuss some building blueprints. Be back in a few hours. 

Love,

Jo

P.S. I found this while I was looking for some batteries. Pick up that guitar and put a pencil to the paper. You might be surprised by what happens. 

Sloane smiled to herself at her husband’s chicken scratch handwriting. His words often were pressed up together, and he wrote in all capital letters. She looked back over to the nightstand and saw her guitar leaning up against it. Sloane couldn’t remember the last time that she wrote an original song. When she performed in The Watering Hole, she sang covers of other artist’s songs. Ever since the Outbreak happened, she’d tucked away her songwriter dreams into the back of her heart without even really noticing it. She wondered if it was time to reopen it as she stared at the guitar.

“You might be surprised by what happens,” Sloane said to herself, echoing Joel’s letter. 

Sloane took the pencil out of the spiral bound and opened to a clean page. She began to hum to herself as she thought. She wrote the date out on the top in cursive and tapped the eraser to the page as she continued to hum. A spark ignited in her mind and began to spread through her like wildfire, until she looked down at the filled page. Sloane couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well everyone’s always givin their two cents. I might as well fuckin give mine,” she said as she picked up the guitar to figure out the melody and chord progressions.

♫ ♫ ♫

Travis told us it was a great day to be alive

Leann told us to dance through the beauty and the nightmares

Johnny told us it's worth walkin the line for the ones we love

But what do I say?

Drink that whiskey, worry bout it later

Press that damned pencil to that damned paper

Thank God every day, not just on Sundays

Live for today, not just for somedays

Laugh till it hurts and eat that cake

Work to the bone but give you a break 

(Speaking) That’s what I fuckin say

Hank told us a country boy can survive

John told us it’s never too late to go home

Loretta and Conway told us no amount of land can keep us apart

But what do I say?

Drink that whiskey, worry bout it later

Press that damned pencil to that damned paper

Thank God every day, not just on Sundays

Live for today, not just for somedays

Laugh till it hurts and eat that cake

Work to the bone but give you a break 

(Speaking) That’s what I fuckin say

(Speaking)

You know…life’s long and full of you-ought-to’s…

Till it’s not and till they’re right all the while

So you ask me Sloane, Sloane, what do I do?

Well go awn and listen, and lemme tell you

Drink that whiskey, worry bout it later

Press that damned pencil to that damned paper

Thank God every day, not just on Sundays

Live for today, not just for somedays

Laugh till it hurts and eat that cake

Work to the bone but give you a break 

♫ ♫ ♫

Chapter Text

November 5, 2012 Jackson, Wyoming

“Hollis, get away from your brother’s cake, you little loon!” Sloane teased her niece, who had her pointer finger aimed at the icing. 

Hollis quickly took her finger away and balled her hand into a fist at her side as her face grew red. 

“Hollis, what did I tell you this morning?” Tristan scolded her daughter all the way from the kitchen. “If I have to tell you again, you and I are gonna have a little chat, missy.” 

Sloane watched as her niece’s face grew redder, and her snitching earned her an icy-blue, deadpanned glance from the 8-year-old. She gave Hollis an apologetic, thin-lipped smile and whispered, “Sorry.” 

Hollis crossed her arms and raised a ginger brow. It nearly knocked Sloane out every time how much she looked like her mother. The child puffed out her lower lip and turned her head dramatically. “Not cool, Auntie Sloane.” 

Sloane walked over to her and whispered, “Look, you can’t be ruinin Nash’s cake before he even has a slice. But I’m sorry for sickin your Ma onto you.” Hollis kept her head turned, but Sloane caught a glimpse of her eyes on her as if she were semi-interested in what her aunt had to say. Sloane whispered again, “How about I help you find some tadpoles tonight, huh? Then will you forgive your Auntie Sloane?”

Hollis turned her head slowly as a small smile showed on her lips. “Fine, but you’re doing the collecting. I get to do the cataloging.” 

Sloane furrowed her brows a bit; Hollis not only got Tristan’s looks, but she also got her interest in science which lent her to use a bunch of terms that Sloane didn’t really understand. She knew what cataloging meant…she just didn’t know why Hollis needed to record every tadpole they caught. Although she didn’t quite get it, she wanted to support the young scientist. “You drive a hard bargain, Holly, but I’m in..” 

Hollis looked side-to-side cryptically as if she were on the lookout for eavesdroppers. “Alright. Meet me in the backyard at sundown.” 

Sloane laughed lightly and nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll be there with my galoshes awn.” 

Hollis nodded once before taking off running out of the room, her long red-hair trailing behind her like a flame. Sloane rubbed her brow and laughed again to herself at Hollis’ adorably bossy disposition. 

“You’re a sucker,” Joel whispered to her as he greeted her with a hand on the small of her back. “Holly had you eatin out the palm of her hand.” 

Sloane elbowed him in the ribs playfully. “Yeah, yeah. Like you’re gonna be such a hardass.” She noticed a bag hanging from one of Joel’s hands, and she cocked her head. “Whatcha got there?”

Joel lifted the bag so Sloane could peek inside. It was a wooden chess board, with some squares that were darkened with stain, whereas the others were left the light color of the natural wood. She could smell the smoky freshness of the cedar as if the tree were still standing proudly with the wind blowing through its leaves. The whites of Sloane’s eyes widened. “This for Nash?”

Joel nodded slowly with a proud smile. “Sure is. The bottom opens up into a drawer for him to store the pieces in. I made those from scratch too. My only other option was to use some board game pieces from that game Sorry.” He shrugged casually as if the task were light work. “Which wasn’t gonna work for me none.”

Sloane grinned ear-to-ear, for she knew that no detail was too small or too time-consuming for Joel Miller and his projects. He was incredibly meticulous. “Oh, of course not. To be honest with you, I’m glad you came with that cause all I had to offer the kid was some horse ridin lessons that couldn’t be cashed in for months.” 

“Yeah, Nash ain’t the ridin type. He’s more into readin about horse riders like knights rather than ridin one himself. He mentioned chess to me a turn ago, so I figured he’d get a kick out of his own board.” 

Sloane stared at Joel adoringly. While she did feel a touch guilty that he knew more about Nash than she did, she was glad for it all the while. It was important for a quiet and soft-spoken kid like Nash to have someone to confide in other than his father, and Sloane was proud that Joel could be that person for him. Upon first glance, one would expect Joel would only able to connect with a young boy about football, sports, or other objectively manly things, but there was an intellectual side underneath that rugged exterior that was interested in books, history, and things like chess. 

“Careful, Jo. I might start to think you’re tryin to usurp me as the favorite or somethin,” Sloane warned with a playful look. 

“You’re precious and all thinkin you were the favorite to begin with,” Joel retorted as one of his brown eyes blinked into a cheeky wink.

Sloane’s mouth fell open slightly in feigned surprise. She was about to banter back when Tristan called from the kitchen. “Sloane! Get off your ass and help me shuck this corn!” 

Sloane shook her head. “Saved by Tris.” She leaned down and kissed his hand. “You gonna help us shuck some corn?” 

“Naw,” Joel replied with a shit-eating grin. “I’d much rather get my ass whooped by a 10-year-old in chess. I’m gonna go look for Nash.”

Sloane laughed lightly to herself and disappeared into the kitchen. Tristan’s sleeves of her purple sweater were rolled up to her elbows as she was hunched over a bowl. Her curly red hair was bound in a claw clip, but a small spiral piece had come loose in front of her eyes. She looked up at Sloane, shaking it away. “About time. Vinny was supposed to help me, but he got caught up taking water samples at the river.” 

Sloane knew that pre-Outbreak, Vincent was an environmentalist, and even now, he still held true to his profession, trying to come up with ways to preserve their surroundings as Jackson began to grow. He believed that if he started early in the genesis of the compound, that he could help mitigate their impact on the environment. When Vincent explained it, it sounded much more profound, and Sloane tried her best to keep up. 

“You and your smarty-pants family.” Sloane gave an irritated Tristan a soft smile and nudged her out of the way. “Step aside chiclet, I got it.”

“Thanks,” Tristan sighed as she moved over the cutting board to cut potatoes for the potato salad. She held the knife in her hand and gave Sloane a surveying look. “You’re finally starting to get a little bump. Next week we can figure out the genders of the babies, if you want.” 

Sloane nodded as she shucked the corn. It had taken a little while for her to show, but now that she was, she seemed to grow bigger with each passing day. “You know me. I’ve been dyin to know as soon as you done told me.” She laughed to herself. “I wonder what they’ll be like. Lookin at Hollis and Nash, they’re spittin images of you ‘n Vinny. Each of ‘em has different pieces of you. I almost wish one of mine’ll be quiet and mindful like Nash is.” 

Tristan sliced the potatoes into quarters and shook her head. “Ohhhhh, no. They’re gonna be puffed-out-bottom-lipped, stubborn, little hellions.” 

Sloane chortled and put a hand on her hip. “You think so?” 

“There’s no other way I’d imagine your kids to be. They’ll be loyal and sweet, but they’ll be little hellions all the while.” Tristan gestured vaguely with the cutting knife. 

“I reckon so too,” Sloane admitted with a bob of her head. “Their stubbornness gene is doubled with Joel as their Pa too.” She finished shucking the corn and wiped her hands on her jeans. “I’m a little wary, if I’m bein honest. I had my short stint as a sitter in high school, but that was always kids and not babies. What if I ain't no good at it?”

Tristan put down the knife and scooped the potatoes into the boiling water. She wiped her hands on a rag and came over to give Sloane a side hug. “It’ll come with time. By the third week, you’ll be a certified pro.” 

Sloane shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah, I reckon so, but I just wish I could take some sort of crash course or something. You know, like those baby classes.” 

“You act like you don’t have a pediatric surgeon for a sister.” Tristan replied before putting a pondering finger to her chin. “But then again, you do pose an interesting idea. I bet Vanessa would be happy if we took her six-week-old baby off her hands for an evening…” 

Sloane held her hands together as if Tristan’s idea were the answer to her prayers. “Really?”

Tristan patted her on the back. “Sure. I’ll be there to help you along the way, and you’ll be able to learn stuff in real time.”

Sloane gave Tristan a bone-crushing hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! That’ll make me feel so much better about the entire thing.” 

“Don’t thank me just yet. Poor William’s colic,” Tristan warned as she salted the boiling potatoes. 

“I reckon we’ve gotta work with what we’ve got,” Sloane said with a sigh.

“Sloane and Joel,” Vincent began as he pushed his glasses up his nose. “Do you two have any bets on what gender you think the twins will be?” 

Sloane nudged Joel with her elbow as she took a bite of potato salad. Joel put his fork down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I reckon it’s two boys. It’s sorta a trend in the Miller family. My mom’s two sisters all had boys too. Every family event, there were eight of us running amok through the house.” 

“Lordy, lordy, bless them,” Tristan replied with an incredulous laugh. 

“Hard to say. Ma didn’t have no siblings and Pa’s siblings all had mixed litters, so it’s a wild card on our side. Not even sure if that kind of thing’s genetic or not. I reckon I agree with Jo, though. I always imagined myself as a boy mom,” Sloane admitted as she talked as she chewed. 

“I always imagined the same, if I’m being honest,” Tristan interjected with a nod. 

“Well, I think Auntie Sloane’s having two girls,” Hollis said as she scraped her fork around her plate, causing the jarring noise to carry throughout the dining room.

“That’s what you hope for at least, huh, Holly?” Sloane asked with a smile.

“Well, yeah,” Hollis agreed. “Boys are gross and smelly.”

“Are not,” Nash piped up with an irritated eye roll. “You’re the one who always smells like creek water and dog poop, Hollis.” 

Sloane put her hand up to her mouth to stifle her laugh. 

“Are too!” Hollis argued back as she slammed her fork down. “You’re just jealous that I can actually swim and catch tadpoles.” 

Nash waved an annoyed hand at his sister. “Shut up, bird brain.” 

“You shut up, stinkerhead!”

“Alright, alright,” Vincent interrupted his children’s bickering. “You’ve both made yourselves abundantly clear. Let’s just eat, alright?”

Hollis grumbled to herself and continued to scratch her metal utensil across the plate. Nash shook his head quietly to himself, clearly irritated with his little sister’s antics.

“See what the two of you have to look forward to?” Tristan teased with a raised brow. 

Sloane’s eyes widened in feigned fear as she smiled. She took a sip of her water and cleared her throat slightly. “So, Nash, did you beat Joel in chess?”

“It was a little hairy for me at the beginning, but I managed to beat him twice with the same maneuver. The Caro-Kann Defense,” Nash replied studiously. 

Sloane scratched her head and gave him a polite nod. “Oh, well that’s nice, ain’t it?”

She peeked a look at Joel, and he was giving Nash a taunting smile. “We’re gonna have a rematch after dinner, ain’t we, Nash? Best two out of three.” 

“If we were playing best two out of three then I already won, Joel!” Nash countered back with a winning smirk. 

“Well, shit, you got me there, boy,” Joel chuckled. “How about we have a rematch anyway?”

Nash nodded as he continued to eat, and Hollis put down her fork again with a long sigh. “Mom, can I be excused already? Auntie Sloane and I are supposed to go to look for tadpoles.”

Tristan gave Sloane a surprised look. “Is that right?”

Sloane held her hands up in defeat and nodded. “I reckon so. I’m gonna have to borrow your galoshes. I have a feelin she’s gonna make me dig for ‘em.” 

Tristan couldn’t help but laugh to herself before nodding. “Alright, then. But change into your play clothes for me, would you, Hollis? Sloane, the boots are in the hallway closet.”

“You heard your Ma,” Sloane said to Hollis as she raised herself from the chair. “Let’s go get us some tadpoles.” 

Hollis disappeared from the dinner table in a similar flash of red as earlier, and Sloane chuckled to herself. She patted Joel’s hand. “Good luck against Genghis Khan.” 

“Caro-Kann, Auntie Sloane,” Nash corrected her without looking up from his plate.

Sloane’s eyes widened as she gave him another polite smile. “Right…”

November 11, 2012 Jackson, Wyoming

Sloane laid back in the examination bed, and Joel held one of her hands in both of his. The white walls of the room had been recently painted, making the air smell like a mix of sterility and paint. She couldn’t stop shaking her legs in anxious anticipation. The moment that she’d been waiting for was just out of arm’s reach. There were still times that Sloane couldn’t believe that this was happening to her, finally, but as she grounded herself to the room around her, it was like it finally began to sink in for the first time. I’m gonna be a Ma.

Joel gave her a soft smirk. “I know you’re jumpin outta your skin to learn what they’re gonna be.” 

Sloane nodded and smirked back. “Don’t act like you ain’t too.” 

Tristan wheeled the ultrasound machine cart into the examination room. “Sorry, you two. Doctor Brown was using the machine to look at someone’s gallstones, and there’s only one in the hospital.” 

Sloane huffed a laugh. “Well damn, at least I’m havin a better day than that person.”

“That’s for sure,” Tristan admitted before giving Sloane and Joel a smile. “So what do you two say? Ready to get to this thing?”

“Ready or not, here we come, Doc,” Joel nodded. “Except we’re fuckin ready.” 

Tristan chuckled to herself. She reached down and lifted Sloane’s sweater, exposing her belly. The doctor reached over to the cart and grabbed a bottle before squirting the liquid onto her.

“Goddamned that’s cold!” Sloane winced and shivered. 

“Don’t be such a wuss, Slo,” Tristan teased as she grabbed the probe and held it to Sloane’s stomach. “Now, let’s see how these babies are cooking.” 

Sloane squeezed Joel’s hand and closed her eyes in anticipation as Tristan looked around on the monitor. She could hear two distinctive heartbeats, and she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. 

Tristan noted the difference too. “Baby one’s heartbeat’s a little faster than baby two, but that’s nothing to be alarmed about. They both look to be in good positions.” 

“Open your eyes, Slo,” Tristan laughed. “I’ve got one of them on the screen now.” 

Sloane opened her eyes slowly and turned her head towards the screen. She wasn’t sure what the hell she was supposed to be looking at. “I’m gonna need you to walk me through this, I ain’t even gonna lie.” 

“There’s the head and one of the feet there, and it would look like…” Tristan trailed as she changed the angle. “Baby number one’s a boy!” 

Sloane shook Joel’s hand excitedly. “Did you hear that!?” 

Joel tapped a finger to his head. “I told you so! How bout the other one, Doc?”

Once Tristan got a good view on the second baby, she turned to Sloane with a soft smile and raised brows.

“Well, go awn!” Sloane urged her.

“Baby two’s a girl.” 

Sloane looked at Joel in surprise. “I mean I know that there was a fifty-fifty chance and everythin but, I gotta say, I’m surprised.” 

“How bout that…” Joel mused as he looked at the screen with adoration–his cheeks rounded into a smile. “A boy and a girl.”

“Best of both worlds, some might say,” Tristan replied proudly.

Sloane made sure to take a mental picture in her mind of her husband at that moment. She’d yearned for it so long and dreamed of it so desperately, that she didn’t want to miss a single thing. Joel’s shoulders were rolled back and relaxed, and his chin was raised in a stoic display of fatherly pride. His brown eyes twinkled, and it was as if Sloane could almost feel the radiant warmness emanating from them. The two of them had grown impossibly close over the years, bonding both over body and soul, but Sloane never felt as close to him as she did then in the hospital room. To experience life's peaks and pitfalls with someone who truly steeled her own soul…now that was a feeling worth bottling up and saving for a rainy day.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Sloane admitted as she looked down at her belly. This whole time she’d been wondering what they would be, and the feeling was akin to finally putting a face to a name of someone you’d run into several times before. It was the same shock, and the same relief. Despite the cool sterile air of the room around them, she felt nothing but warm.

Joel picked up Sloane’s hand and kissed it. His eyes were misty with tears. “Looks like we’ve gotta start comin up with names then, Mama.” 

Sloane leaned her head back against the headrest and gave a relieved sigh. It felt like the first proper breath she’d taken throughout her entire pregnancy. She’d experienced two miscarriages in her marriage with Todd, and she never wanted to feel that empty, hollow pain again as long as she lived. So to protect herself, she tried to detach herself from the feelings entirely–both positive and negative. Sloane knew that they weren’t out of the woods yet, but she decided that she was going to let herself feel the thrill completely and thoroughly, through every organ, every pore, from her head down to her toes. And should something happen…well, she had an inkling that Joel would be there to catch her.

 “I reckon so, Daddy,” Sloane replied with a loving smile. 

Chapter Text

November 13, 2012 Jackson, Wyoming

Vanessa and Josh’s house was a five minute walk from Sloane’s; the couple lived closer to the center of town towards The Watering Hole. Sloane was familiar with the couple. They often liked to attend karaoke night together on Thursdays, but since Vanessa had her baby, Sloane hadn’t seen much of them as they adjusted to their new lives as parents. 

The warm colored autumn leaves crunched under Tristan and Sloane’s boots as they walked. The air wasn’t crisp; it was snapping cold. Sloane craned her head up at the sky and breathed in deeply. She turned to Tristan. “It’s gonna snow tonight,” Sloane observed with a certain dip of her chin. “I can smell it in the air.” 

Tristan’s eyes grew small, and she gave her sister a silly face. “You can smell the snow?”

“Oh yeah. It’s a certain type of freshness that ain’t often there. When it’s real fresh, that means snow,” she stated with a cheesy grin. “Hey, remember them snowmen we used to make?” 

“How could I forget?” Tristan chuckled, her pale face flushed rosy pink from the chill. “We’d spend hours on end making them.”

“Yeah…” Sloane trailed nostalgically. “Then there was that one time you used Ma’s hand rake as one of the arms. She was runnin round the house mad lookin for it.” 

The smile the memory brought on Tristan’s face was warm. “That woman and her greenhouse….I swear.” 

“Jo and I went back to the house on the way out here,” Sloane recalled her journey two years prior. “Visited Ma, Pa, and Todd…” She inhaled the frozen air through her nostrils to ground her. “The hardest part was seein our childhood house fall apart. Not to mention, bandits had gotten to it. I’ve seen my fair share of busted ass houses over the years, but none of them came close to botherin me like seein that did. I mean…it was our house. Ours. The one that Granddaddy built.” She shrugged as she realized that she was rambling. “I dunno, Tris.”

Tristan’s ginger brows raised slightly in surprise. “Sorry I never came back to help you bury them, Slo. That must’ve been hard.” 

Sloane gave her little sister a melancholic smile. “I didn’t mind it none cause I wouldn’t have wanted you to do it neither. Somehow it made me feel better that you didn’t have to watch them get sick. Like you were protected from it or somethin.” 

“I should’ve–”

“Don’t do that–goin and blamin yourself. Ma and Pa understand. You were out there livin. They wouldn’t have wanted you to see them dyin,” Sloane remarked as she wrapped her arm around Tristan and pulled her close to her.

Her sister’s cerulean eyes grew misty, and the sight transported Sloane back in time as if they were both kids and Tristan had just fallen off her bike. “I thought about them every day,” Tristan said, her voice breaking.

“I know you did, chiclet,” Sloane whispered as she squeezed her closer. “I know.” 

“Ugh,” Tristan groaned slightly with a sad, quivering smile as she shook herself out. “Sorry, just gets me sometimes.”

“Don’t apologize,” Sloane affirmed. “It comes and goes in waves. Grief’s a sorry som’bitch like that.” 

“Yeah, I guess it is,” Tristan agreed as she wiped her eyes. “Now let’s get happy. We have a baby to take care of.”

Sloane nodded wordlessly and kept her arm around her little sister as a show of quiet support. Because no matter how many years had been robbed from her, Sloane was able to make up for it now, and she was realizing that wasn’t a luxury that many were afforded.

Sloane held the eight-week-old baby, William, and she looked at him as he screamed at her. It was a wonder to Sloane how such a raucous noise could come out of something that weighed no more than twelve pounds. It had been an hour, and the baby still hadn’t stopped crying. She peered into his gummy mouth as she contemplated what to do. 

“Quit holding him like a sack of potatoes, Slo!” Tristan scoffed as she came over and grabbed him. She tucked him against her chest and put one hand at the back of his head. “You have to support him like this. His neck is still weak.” The doctor bobbed William from side-to-side as she looked at Sloane with a quirked brow. 

Sloane put a hand on her hip, and the other on her forehead. She frowned and confessed, “Well he ain’t happy lyin down, and he ain’t happy being held. I mean, what in the Sam Hill does he want?”

Tristan gave her a sympathetic smile and popped a pacifier in William's mouth. This seemed to soothe him, and Sloane could hear her ears ringing from the sixty minutes of nonstop noise. 

Sloane’s shoulders slumped, and she plopped down on the couch in defeat. “I’ve been tryin for an hour, and you get him to stop in two minutes? That ain’t fair. I mean, how am I gonna take care of two if I can’t even figure out one!?” She threw her hands in the air, and she could feel her eyes grow weepy. A tear rolled down Sloane’s cheek, and she wiped her eyes. “Sorry, I just…this means a lot to me. And I’m downright scared, Tris.” 

“Sloane, billions of women have had children before you, and I’m sure billions will have children after you,” Tristan said as she sat down beside her. She continued to rock William against her chest as she looked at her older sister.

“Golly, thanks!” Sloane huffed a laugh. “So I’m the only one who’s a miserable failure.” She rubbed her hand against her stomach.

Tristan grabbed her hand and gave her a hard look. “No. I meant that it means that you can do it too.” She cocked her head, and there was compassion on her face. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret. No matter how much you think you’re prepared, there’s going to be moments when you feel like you’re out of your depth. But it’s been done before. Many, many times. Which is to say that you’ll get through it.” 

More tears fell slowly and softly down Sloane’s tanned cheeks. Her chest rose and fell as she took a deep breath. She looked at William, and she smiled. “Thanks for saying that. I just never thought that this would happen for me, you know? And I don’t wanna fuck it up.” 

“It matters because you care,” Tristan said as she squeezed her hand. “You’re not going to break them. They’re more sturdy than you think. Just take care to support the neck. Come here and hold him.” She began to move William towards her.

Sloane shook her head. “I shouldn’t. He’s happy with you.” 

“Quit being stubborn and take the baby, Slo!” Tristan urged as she passed him gently over. 

Sloane sighed and held William in the crook of her arm. She looked up at Tristan with fear in her eyes. 

“You’ve got it,” Tristan affirmed with a slight nod. “Look at him, he’s content. You’re doing just fine.” 

Sloane knitted her eyebrows together and looked down again. William’s eyes were fluttering shut as she rocked him gently. 

“Say it, Slo. Tell yourself that you’re doing just fine.”

Sloane kept her eyes trained on William as the corners of her mouth tugged up into a soft smile. “I’m doing just fine. We’re doing just fine.” 

“That’s it,” Tristan encouraged. “You’re going to be a fantastic mother. And when you’re in over your head, you have a great husband and an even greater sister to help.” She gave her a playful wink.

Sloane gave her a light laugh. “How did you know though? That what he needed was the pacifier?”

“Babies have tells,” Tristan explained. “He was rubbing his eyes. You’ll learn your littles’ tells too quicker than you think. Believe it or not, you’ll be able to tell the difference between their cries too. A hungry cry sounds different than a tired cry, for example.” 

Sloane loosed a long exhale from her chest. “Alotta take in.” 

“I know it, but look at him now. Fast asleep,” Tristan replied as she gestured to William with her head. 

Sloane looked down again and saw the baby’s eyes closed. William looked peaceful. Sloane was awash with the opportunity of being able to be such a small being’s safe haven. He trusted her to protect her. He trusted her to give him what he needed. And for someone who prided herself on her incessant need to speed through life with guns blazing, she thought what a privilege it was to be able to stand still for something so worthwhile. She knew somehow inherently that this is what she’d been meant to do all this time. Those very thoughts brought Sloane solace. Maybe I can do this after all.

“He is, ain’t he,” Sloane smiled.

“I have to admit, I can’t wait to see you change a poopy diaper though,” Tristan teased with a chuckle.

Sloane rolled her eyes and laughed too. 

January 4, 2013 Jackson, Wyoming

Sloane tossed and turned in the dark bedroom. She inhaled sharply as a red-hot acute pain coursed through her veins. Sloane held her stomach as she scooted herself up into a seating position. Her eyes were heavy with sleeplessness, and she was finding that it was becoming a rarity for her to be able to sleep through the night. Sloane felt a gentle tap in her stomach. Then there was another. And another. 

“Will the two of you pipe down?” Sloane scolded her babies in a harsh whisper as she rubbed her hand around in circles. The pain spread through her chest, and it came in flashes.

Sloane felt Joel roll over to his bedside table and with a pull of the lamp string, the room illuminated with dim light. His brown eyes squinted as they adjusted. “Who you talkin to, baby?”

“Your children,” Sloane responded as she felt another surge of pain in her chest and another nudge at her stomach. “One is kickin me like a mule, and the other is givin me heartburn.” She shook her head. “I swear, they ain’t even born yet, and they’re already conspirin against me.” 

A sleepy smile stretched across Joel’s face as he rolled on his side to face her, his head propped up on his hand. “Oh, so they’re my children when they’re actin up.”

“Fuckin right,” Sloane replied with wide eyes as she readjusted herself uncomfortably in bed. 

He chuckled lightly. His calloused palm crept under her shirt and rubbed her bump. “How long have you been awake?” 

“I haven’t slept,” Sloane said as she struggled to move herself again to get comfortable. 

His sleepy smile contorted into a sympathetic frown. Joel rubbed her stomach idly for a few moments before he pulled away, threw the covers back, and got out of bed.

“Where are you goin?” Sloane asked with a raised brow. “Ain’t you gonna give your kids a stern talkin to?” Her voice was skating the line between joking and seriousness. To put it simply, Sloane was exhausted. 

“One second, Mama,” Joel said as he talked across the room. Sloane watched as he went to the far side of the room to his guitar case. He popped it open and took out his acoustic guitar. Joel came back over to her and sat crosslegged on the bed. His fingers strummed softly as he checked to make sure that it was tuned. 

“And just what’re you doin, Miller?” Sloane queried as she groaned again in pain. 

Joel raised his dark brows and smirked. “I’m gonna sing em a lullaby. Fingers crossed that they’ll settle down.”

Sloane leaned against the headboard and looked at Joel ardently. Despite him looking exhausted too on account of being woken up in the middle of the night, there was a soft happiness creased in the lines of his handsome face. “Go awn then,” she teased. “Let’s hear it.” 

♫ ♫ ♫

There is a young cowboy, he lives on the range

His horse and his cattle are his only companions

He works in the saddle and he sleeps in the canyons

Waiting for summer, his pastures to change

♫ ♫ ♫

Joel’s voice was soft and low, the bass reverberating through the walls of their room in the still night. Smooth and silky too, like the whiskey they used to pass back and forth between each other. Sloane closed her eyes and let the sounds of her husband help calm her nervous, uncomfortable energy that seemed to wrap itself around her. Joel plucked the guitar gingerly too; at times, it was almost too hushed to hear. Sloane focused on his words and his words only. James Taylor always was Ma’s favorite.

♫ ♫ ♫

And as the moon rises, he sits by his fire

Just thinking about women and glasses and beer

And closing his eyes as the dogies retire

He sings out a song which is soft but it's clear

Just as if maybe someone could hear

He says goodnight all you moonlight ladies

Rockabye, sweet baby James

Deep greens and blues for the colors I choose

Won't you let me go down in my dreams?

Yes, I rockabye sweet baby James

Now the first of December was covered with snow

Yes and so was the turnpike from Stockbridge to Boston

Now the Berkshires they seem dreamlike on account of that frosting

With ten miles behind me and ten thousand more to go

You know

There's a song that they sing when they take to the highway

A song that they sing when they take to the sea

A song that they sing of their home in the sky

Maybe you can believe it, if it helps you to sleep

But singing seemed to work fine for me

So goodnight all you moonlight ladies

Rockabye, sweet baby James

Deep greens and blues for the colors I choose

Won't you let me go down in my dreams?

Oh, and rockabye, oh, sweet baby James

♫ ♫ ♫

Sloane opened her eyes once the song ended, and she was mournful that it had. But all the while, she realized that she’d been smiling. It was almost as if, in a past life, Joel had been an angel in the choir of God. His singing voice was low, raspy, and smoky, but there was a sort of deliberateness and control in it that made the goosebumps appear on Sloane’s skin every time he sang. 

Joel set the guitar aside and leaned back over to touch her stomach. “How are they doin now, Mama?” 

For a few blissful moments, Sloane hadn’t thought of the tight heat in her chest or the repeated kicks. There had only been him. She furrowed her brows as if to concentrate. Sloane moved her hand around her stomach to inspect, but she wasn’t met with any bumps. The heart burn hadn’t dissipated entirely, but it had softened a touch to where it wasn’t so uncomfortable. 

Sloane put her hand on top of her husband’s. “You got the kicker to quit, but the heart burn hasn’t let up entirely. But it’s better.” She gave him a warm smile and reached out her free hand to cup his cheek. Joel leaned against it and kissed her palm. 

“Well that’s good, ain’t it, darlin?” Joel replied with a proud smile. “I reckon we’re in better shape than we started off with.” 

“I reckon so too,” Sloane agreed. Her cheeks balled into a grin of her own again. “How bout one more? Just for good measure.” 

“Yes ma’am,” Joel replied as he kissed her palm again. He held out a scolding finger in front of her stomach and talked down to it. “One more lullaby and then it’s time for you two jokers to be easy.” 

Sloane laughed, her body rocking with the joy of it. She always felt most in love and most connected with Joel in the quiet moments–when it was only the two of them trying to navigate through life together. She was thanking her lucky stars that she’d found someone who got up out of bed to sing lullabies in the middle of the night just because she didn’t feel right. Now that’s true love. Patient love. Real love, she thought. 

February 14, 2013 Jackson, Wyoming

Before Sloane opened her eyes, her hands were reaching for the man beside her. Through furrowed brows she opened them to find the covers pulled up neatly and the pillows propped. Sloane snaked her hand under the blankets to find that Joel’s side was still somewhat warm, so he hadn’t been awake for long. Sloane loosed a long sigh from her chest and heaved her pregnant self up. She was in the middle of her third trimester, and Lord knows that she felt like it. Sloane spied a piece of paper lying against Joel’s pillow, and it had her name on it written in her husband’s hand. She smiled as she admired the writing. Joel wrote small, hurried, and always in capital letters. Sloane unfolded the paper and read it to herself:

SLO

CAN YOU PICK MY TOOLS UP FROM TOMMY’S HOUSE? GONNA BE HOME LATE AND DON’T HAVE THE TIME. 

LOVE YOU

JO

Sloane scoffed to herself and set the letter down. She climbed out of bed and waddled over to the dresser to find a warm pair of clothes to put on. “Pick up your tools? The man lives across the fuckin street,” Sloane murmured to herself as she pulled a camel colored sweater over her head. She shimmied into her jeans and stepped into her boots, shaking her head. “And what’s Tommy doin that he can’t bring them over?” 

It’s not that she minded doing a favor for Joel, it was the fact that it was such a strange request. Regardless, she pulled her beanie over her ears and trudged across the snow-covered street. Sloane rubbed her hands together and shivered as she hunched down into her coat. I could live here fifty years and still not get used to this freezin cold, she thought to herself. Sloane knocked on Maria and Tommy’s door, and after a few moments, Maria emerged. 

Sloane immediately smiled when she saw her friend. Maria was still in her pajamas–her round, pregnant stomach protruding under her robe. Although she was having one baby compared to Sloane’s twins, she was carrying heavy. The two friends joked that Maria was going to be giving birth to a giant. 

“Come in,” Maria urged her inside with a wave of her hand. 

Sloane felt the warmth hit her face, chasing away the chill setting in on her skin. “Daggum, I only been out there less than three minutes, and my teeth are already chatterin.” She shivered her body dramatically for emphasis. “Sorry to barge in, but Joel left me a note sayin somethin about pickin up his tools for him.” 

Maria’s eyes narrowed playfully as a knowing smile grew on her lips. “Oh right. Let me go grab those for you.” 

Sloane looked around the living room. The recliner nearest to the fireplace had a bundle of yarn, two knitting needles, and her latest project sitting on it as if Sloane had interrupted her at work. When she heard Maria reenter the room, she pointed to the supplies and said, “You really gotta teach me how to do that. I need some more hobbies on account that most of mine are outlawed for the time bein.”

Maria laughed her warm laugh. “Oh, sure. I’ve been knitting like a crazy woman. I’ve already made five sweaters and a blanket throughout this pregnancy.” 

“Good God,” Sloane huffed a laugh, turning her head to Maria. 

Maria had a giddy smile on her face as she handed a piece of paper to Sloane. Her brows knitted together as she took it. Sloane clicked her tongue softly once she saw her name written again in Joel’s hand.

“Read it!” Maria urged. 

Sloane opened the letter and read: 

HAHA GOT YOU! 

YOU’RE PROBABLY TOO GRUMPY AND TIRED TO REALIZE, BUT TODAY’S VALENTINE’S DAY. I PUT TOGETHER A SCAVENGER HUNT FOR YOU. 

HERE’S YOUR FIRST CLUE:

PEACH COBBLER MINUS THE PEACHES

There was a goofy looking smiley face drawn under the clue. Sloane shook the note and looked up at Maria. “I knew there was somethin up! Because that man wouldn’t leave his tools with no one no ways. Not even Tommy!” She put her hand on her hip. “And what in the Hell is this supposed to mean? Peach cobbler minus the peaches?” 

“Minus the peaches would mean just cobbler,” Maria said as her eyes widened as if she were giving her some big hint. Her words went right over Sloane’s head as she shrugged. Maria’s brown eyes widened more. “You know like a cobbler.” 

Sloane squinted as she tried to think. She remembered making Joel a peach cobbler because peaches were his favorite, but she was going to need more context with that if she was going to learn what he meant. “I know I’m missin somethin by the way your eyes are bulgin, but look, I’m lost,” Sloane replied.

“A cobbler,” Maria repeated. When Sloane shrugged again, Maria loosed a laugh from her chest. “Okay, what are you wearing on your feet?”

“Boots?”

“And what do you do if your boots are falling apart?” Maria asked as she waved her hand in the air, prompting an answer out of Sloane.

Sloane scratched her head. “Fix em with duct tape?”

“No, Slo,” Maria replied, slumping her shoulders. “Who’s job is it to fix shoes?” 

“I’d love to fuckin know cause I’ve a pair holdin on for dear life!” Sloane replied. 

“A cobbler, Slo! A cobbler!” Maria exclaimed as she spoke with her hands. 

“Get out of town, really? That’s what you call them?” Sloane asked, her lips thinned in contemplation. 

There was a pained look on Maria’s face. “The next clue’s leading you to McCormick’s.” 

Sloane went over and clapped Maria on the back as she gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Ria. That was a real head scratcher.” 

Maria sighed and laughed again. “Don’t mention it.” 

After speaking to McCormick, he presented Sloane with her next clue:

ONE DOWN! 

THE NEXT CLUE IS 

ANGRY OLD MAN AND BOOT SCUFFS ON WOOD.

Sloane smiled wide as a light bulb went off in her head. Her favorite angry old man, Seth, always yelled at her for wearing her boots when she sang on the bar of the Watering Hole. Upon first meeting, Sloane knew that Seth didn’t like her very much, but she got on his good side once she started manning the bar for him in her free time and giving his grandkids riding lessons. Seth still pretended like Sloane was a pain in his ass, but she could tell she was a loved pain in the ass, even though he’d never admit it. 

The bell chimed signaling her arrival, and Seth was behind the bar polishing glasses. Sloane chuckled to herself as she went over. The old bartender was always very particular when it came to the Watering Hole’s glassware. 

Without so much as looking up, Seth grabbed a piece of paper from his pocket and held it out for her. Sloane took it and waited, tapping her boot. Seth exhaled sharply and looked up. “What? You’re not expecting me to read it out loud to you or something, are you?” 

“No.” Sloane shook her head. “But I was expectin maybe a ‘Hi, Sloane. How are ya, Sloane?’ or somethin.” 

Seth sat the glass down and put his hands on his hips. “Hi, Sloane. You look like you’re doing just fine. Albeit very pregnant, but just fine.” 

Sloane clicked her tongue softly and rolled her eyes. “You’re just mad at me cause I haven’t been bartendin.” 

“True,” Seth nodded with a small smile of his own. “But you’ll be back. Eventually.” 

Sloane smiled and shook her head. Crazy old coot. She opened the clue to read: 

TWO COLORS OF THE RAINBOW THAT WORK TO SAVE. 

Sloane leaned against the bar as she thought. Jo’s leadin me to places round town, so where does he want me to go with this? She thought of all the buildings in town: the bar, the school, the town hall, the movie theater, the hospital… Sloane gave the bar a righteous smack of her hand. “Doc Brown and Doc Green work at the hospital!” she exclaimed. 

“Took you long enough,” Seth teased as he focused on polishing the glasses. 

“Don’t make me come over there and get my prints all over them glasses,” Sloane warned playfully with raised brows. 

Seth’s blue eyes narrowed as a ghost of a smile sat on his lips. “You wouldn’t dare. Now go on and do your scavenger hunt.” 

At the hospital, Tristan gave Sloane her next clue: 

WHERE YOUR CALVARY AWAITS. 

Tristan watched Sloane think. “Joel’s a real sweetie for thinking of this, isn’t he?”

Sloane nodded. “Fuckin right. He’s always doin or fixin somethin for me. And I don’t even have to ask. He just…does. I’m lucky to have a husband like him.” Sloane’s brows furrowed, and she stumbled through her words. “Not that Todd didn’t. I–”

Tristan put her hand on Sloane’s shoulder and gave her a hard look. “I know that, Slo. Just because you appreciate Joel doesn’t mean you didn’t appreciate Todd.” 

Sloane’s face was drawn into a frown. “I just don’t want you to think I forgot about him or nothin. Cause I loved him very, very much, Tris. I still do.” 

“I know that,” Tristan affirmed quietly. 

It was a strange thing–grief. There were some days that Sloane didn’t think about Todd anymore, while others, he was all she could think about. It had taken Sloane years to be able to let Joel in the way that she wanted–beyond sex, beyond friends. It took all that time because Sloane had to get over the fact that one morning she’d woken up with her husband of 12 years, and the next, she was a widow. And once she had been able to move on, it still had a way of making her feel guilty. Sometimes she felt like she should be grieving Todd forever as a celibate widow as if it were a statement of how strong their bond was. 

“What happened was horrific, Slo,” Tristan said as she squeezed her shoulder. “Todd would want you to move on, and I just know he’s happy that you’re being taken care of so well.”

Sloane looked at Tristan with a quivering lip. That was the other strange thing about grief; it had a way of hitting you out of nowhere. You could go all day just fine, and then BAM, there it is. Her brown eyes grew misty, and she nodded. “Thanks for sayin that.” 

“You’ve got an angel, that’s for darn sure. A fierce angel, protecting you,” Tristan proclaimed as she patted her on the back. “Read that clue to me before you start bawling.” 

Sloane gave her little sister a searching look, wondering when she’d grown up so fast and become so wise. She smiled to herself and read the clue, “Where your calvary awaits.”

Tristan’s cerulean eyes lit up immediately as she held out a finger. “The horses! Ruger, Smith, and Wesson.” She huffed a laugh. “They’re a calvary because of their names. How clever of him.” 

“It is, isn’t it?” Sloane agreed with a thoughtful nod. “Thanks for the help,” Sloane winked.

As she began to walk away, Tristan’s voice was slightly alarmed, “Wait! Was I not supposed to help you!?” 

“I woulda gotten it sooner or later!” Sloane called back. She drew her lips into a thin line as she muttered, “Maybe.” The cowgirl knew where her strengths lay, and puzzles and riddles weren’t one of them. 

At the stables, Sloane inspected the stalls for the next clue, and when she went over to pet Ruger, she found the note hanging from a loose thread around his neck. Sloane smiled and took the makeshift necklace off the stallion. 

“You gonna help me figure out the next one, Rug?” Sloane asked the horse as she stroked his mane. 

Ruger gave her a soft nicker that made her smile even wider. She opened it and read it: 

LOOK AT YOU, LITTLE SAVAGE. YOU’VE MADE IT TO THE FINAL CLUE.

WHERE YOUR HEART IS.

Sloane sucked on her teeth and thought for a moment. Joel has my heart, surely. She bobbed her head side-to-side in contemplation. “Ah,” she said. “He means home. You know, the phrase, home’s where your heart is?” Sloane told Ruger who gave her another soft nicker in reply as if agreeing with her logic. 

Sloane said her goodbyes and began the walk back to the house. She was relieved that the scavenger hunt required her to go inside for the clues because along with the bitter cold and icy snow, whipping winds had begun to kick up in the afternoon. Sloane watched a group of teenagers have a snowball fight in the middle of town, and one of them barely missed her. 

“Sorry, Mrs. Miller!” one of the flush faced kids called to her. She gave them a wave and continued trudging down the street. 

Sloane pushed the front door open, somewhere between thankful and annoyed that the final destination of the hunt was their house. She was thankful because she knew that she needed to get out of the house and annoyed because she could feel the cold cutting into her bones despite the winter gear she wore. She took off the winter beanie with a tug, sending her long blonde hair into a mess of static. Sloane patted it down as she hung the hat on a hook by the door along with her jacket.

“Jo?” Sloane asked as she kicked off her boots. 

“In here,” his voice called back. 

Sloane walked to the living room and found Joel sitting at a small table by the fireplace. There was an empty chair across from him, and candles were lit throughout the cozy room. There was a slight worried look on Joel’s face when he got up to greet her that warmed her even more than the fire ever could. 

Sloane cocked her head and smiled softly. “So we’ve a table this time,” she teased, remembering the time that he’d made them a blanket fort by the fire on their second night in Jackson. 

“Is that a good or bad thing?” he asked as he drew closer. 

“Good,” she nodded with a whisper. She put her hands on his chest before bringing one up to cup his cheek. “Real good.” Joel kissed her hand, his eyes aglow with adoration. 

“C’mere,” he said as he grabbed her by the hand. He led her over to the table and pulled the chair out for her. 

Sloane got herself comfortable, and when Joel sat down in front of her she said, “Y’know, that scavenger hunt was a mighty cute gesture. Some of em had me stumped though. I think my favorite was the one bout the horses. That was downright smarty pants of you.” 

Joel’s worriedness dissolved as the corners of his lips tugged up into a smile. She could tell by the way he puffed his chest slightly that he was proud. “I’m beauty and brains, Slo.” 

A chuckle ruptured through Sloane’s chest. “Well I reckon you’re right. Lucky me.” She leaned her head on her hand as she admired him. Jackson had softened his harsher edges like a piece of sandpaper on jagged wood. And although he was older now than he was then, he looked younger in Jackson compared to how he did in the Boston QZ. It wasn’t just that he’d been gaunter, cheekbones more hollowed, undereyes perpetually darkened and tired; he’d been utterly and irrevocably haunted there, always on edge. It was as if the Boston QZ had been sucking the life from him, whereas Jackson was restoring it. The Joel that she saw in front of her was filled out, eyes bright and glimmering. His energy was nothing short of a joyous sort of calm. 

Joel reached across the table to grab one of her hands. His large, calloused hand was warm and gentle. He’d instinctively begun to rub the top with his thumb. They sat like this for a beat, looking at each other wordlessly. They didn’t need to speak because everything that needed to be said could be communicated using a singular look. Joel licked his lips before saying, “Wait right here.” 

Sloane gazed into the fire as she waited. Her bones had thawed, and she was so warm and cozy that she could’ve fallen asleep any moment. She heard the soft, yet unmistakable clanging of dishes in the kitchen. Joel’s heavy footsteps returned, and she watched him reenter the room with his arms full. Her eyes widened as she watched a glass of water teeter against his chest. Sloane rose from her seat. “Here, let me help.” 

Joel shot her a playful, yet disapproving look. “You sit down right now.” 

Sloane clicked her tongue softly and returned to her seat. Joel set a glass of water down and a plate of food. Sloane’s mouth instinctively began to water as she looked at the asparagus, steak, and mashed potatoes. Joel sat down with a sigh, and Sloane looked at him in amazement. “Did you make this?”

Joel chuckled. “I reckon I should take the credit, but naw, Seth did.” 

“What’d you have to leverage to get this?” Sloane asked as she loosed a low whistle. “This looks like a pretty pennied favor.” 

“Oh, it is,” Joel agreed with a dip of his chin. “But don’t worry about that none cause your only job is to enjoy it.” 

Sloane remembered the time that she asked Seth to make a birthday cake for Joel, and that had cost her several weeks of free labor in exchange. She couldn’t imagine what two elaborate meals would chase, especially this late in winter. The winter stores had to be divided out carefully to each Jackson family, and it didn’t allow for things such as steak filets. Seth was holdin these for a special occasion.

Sloane cocked her head. “I love you. Do you know that?”

“I do cause I love you just as big,” Joel replied with a sweet smile. “Go awn and eat your food fore it gets cold, baby.” He picked up his utensils, but before he cut his meat, he froze. “Oh, and Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Sloane said. “And thank you. For everything.”

Joel brought a piece of asparagus up to her mouth and winked. “You’re welcome. Now eat.” 

Sloane huffed a laugh and took a generous bite. Her eyes widened as she chewed. “Doggone that’s good.” 

“It fuckin better be or else I’d beat Seth’s ass!” Joel exclaimed with a laugh of his own. 

Chapter Text

March 15, 2013 Jackson, Wyoming

The screen door slammed behind Joel as he came over to Sloane with a buffalo checked flannel blanket. He laid it across her gingerly, tucking the sides around her as if she were a butterfly in a cocoon. Sloane gave him a small thankful smile and nestled her chin against it as she moved back and forth on the rocking chair. She wanted to say something about how the three blankets and layers of outdoor wear were already enough to keep her warm, but she decided against it. Sloane knew when to let Joel dote on her. 

The pre-spring air was icy and unforgiving; it would be another couple of months before the frost broke in Jackson. It couldn’t come soon enough for Sloane. Normally the winter didn’t bother her as much, and she often found joy in the heavy thick snowfall, but she was damn near going out of her mind. She’d been cooped up for months both from the weather and from her pregnancy, and she was all too excited to meet her little ones. One more month. 

The couple rocked in their matching chairs quietly, taking in the lazy afternoon scene. A group of bundled up children trudged down the street with a sled in tow, and the sight made Sloane smile. The trees were bare, and the gray sky was dreary, and yet those children were laughing and giggling like it was the best day of their lives. Best take a note out of their book. 

“Have you given the names any thought?” Joel asked, the tips of his ears and his cheeks red with cold. 

Sloane buzzed her lips together and dipped her chin. “I have,” Sloane admitted. “You?” The couple had already come up with middle names for the twins, but not first. They’d thought that they were going to meet the twins first before sticking them with a name, but two names had popped into her mind on one of those cold cooped up days, and Sloane couldn’t lie, she quite liked them. 

Joel shook his head. “Tried, but none sounded right.” His lips tugged up into a smile as he surveyed his wife. “Don’t be shy now. Tell me the names.”

Sloane’s already flushed cheeks grew flusher still in some semblance of shyness. These names had been on her heart for a few weeks that admitting them out loud made her nervous in a way. Sloane wanted Joel to like the names, and she was sure to be bummed if he didn’t. “Sawyer for the boy and Sutton for the girl,” she told him finally.

Joel rocked in his chair wordlessly for a few moments. There was no indication on his face whether he liked or loathed them. He nodded as he rocked. “Sawyer Todd Miller and Sutton Sarah Miller?” he queried.

“I reckon it sounds real nice,” Sloane replied quietly, almost in a whisper. 

Joel stopped rocking and turned his head to her. A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. “I reckon so too, little savage.” His brown eyes glimmered mischievously. “Was them both bein ‘S’ names on purpose?"

Sloane smiled too–relieved. “Naw, just happenstance.” She cocked her head and assessed him. “Really? You like em?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do,” Joel replied, his smile growing brighter and larger. “Sawyer’s a tough name.”

Sloane tilted her head back and laughed, her hot breath making steam clouds in the cool air around her. Her trepidation had shapechanged into joy. She nudged to him with her head. “Glad you reckon so.”

Joel began rocking himself again as if the motion helped him think. “Sutton and Sawyer Miller…” he trailed. “Little unusual. They ain’t the classics like Michael or Emily. But…they got a mighty nice ring to em.”

The whites of Sloane’s eyes widened in excitement. “So you’re sayin that…”

Joel nodded and chuckled. “Yeah, darlin. I’m sayin looks like we finally found their names.”

Sloane gave him a proud, beaming smile. It felt like another piece was falling into place for them. Joel had picked out the middle names, and she’d picked out the first names. She loosed a long, content sigh from her chest. “I’m so excited to meet em.” 

“Me too, darlin,” Joel replied. He rose from his chair and held out a hand to her. “Let’s go back inside. It’s colder than a well digger’s ass out here.”

Sloane threw him one of her four blankets he’d settled upon her. She quirked her brow teasingly.  “Just a few more minutes, huh?”

Joel rolled his eyes and nodded. “Alright, little savage.”

March 19, 2013 Jackson, Wyoming

The fireplace crackled, its embers beginning to fizzle out and die. Tommy stood up with his whiskey glass in tow and placed another log inside. He took the fire-poker and moved them around a touch, and just like that, the fire was growing again. The youngest Miller brother leaned against the mantle and took a long swallow of his drink. 

Sloane gave him a sour face. “You’re mean as sin for drinkin that in front of me.”

Tommy frowned slightly. “Damn, I hadn’t thought of that. Sorry I–”

The whites of Sloane’s eyes widened in amusement. “I’m just yankin your chain.” The horse-handler did in fact miss the sweet, smoky alcohol, but mostly she just liked to get on Tommy’s nerves. He was endearing to think that he needed to give it up in some efforts of solidarity though.

Tommy rolled his onyx eyes and gave her a sportsmanlike grin. He swirled the amber liquid around in his glass and the ice cubes clinked against the sides with a tink tink. Tommy nursed another small sip and returned to his recliner. He turned to her as he lounged back. “Say, Savage, remember that wildflower field in Hudson Valley?”

A large, knowing smile stretched across Sloane’s face. They had been on a run to a new supplier out in New York when they were still smuggling in the QZ. Sloane and Joel were nothing more than a series of longing, curious glances, and she and Tommy scarcely left the other’s side. “Shit, how could I forget,” Sloane replied with a dip of her chin. 

Tommy chuckled preemptively as he recalled the memory. “Joel had a stick lodged so far up his ass cause we was runnin behind schedule, and there you was, hangin behind so that you could lay down in the flowers.”

Sloane shook her head, her smile not fading. “Joel was madder than Hell.”

“What was it that you told him?” Tommy asked.

“Hey Jo, haven’t you heard to stop and smell the flowers?” Sloane recalled.

Tommy pointed at her. “That’s it! Daggumit I can still remember the look on his face.” Sloane pulled her face into a tight jawed expression, her lips thin, and her brows furrowed to mimic Joel’s expression that day. When Tommy saw her, he erupted into a fit of laughter–the infectious percussion of it making Sloane laugh too. 

“And then I started makin snow angels in the flowers,” Sloane added, the memory coming back vividly the more they talked about it. “I think steam was comin outta his ears.”

“No, no,” Tommy corrected. “That wasn’t till I started doin em with you!” He slapped his knee. The youngest brother then tried to pull his face into the same mimicking expression.

Tears began to bloom in Sloane’s eyes because the laughter was rocking her so joyously. “Oh my days, you look just like him!” 

They sat there like that for a few moments, mimicking Joel and laughter tumbling from their chests. It was as if it transported Sloane back in time when she and Tommy were always hanging out and cutting up.

Tommy exhaled a long sigh to get the giggles out of his chest. He leaned further back in the recliner and kicked his feet up. The look on his face was both happy and sad in the way that only Tommy’s could be. “I miss them days sometimes. Felt like everythin was so simple then.”

“Me too,” Sloane admitted. “Just moments like that though. I ain’t miss outrunnin bullets, swindlin folks, or the fuckin QZ. That’s for damned sure.” 

“Naw, me neither,” Tommy agreed. “Just moments like that. You and them wildflowers.” His onyx eyes glimmered in some nostalgic mourning.

Sloane knew what he meant though. It was before they found Jackson, before they began growing families, and before they were given the promise of a future. In the Boston QZ, they were living for today and today only. The city was so unpredictable, so filled with people hoping to swoop down and strike them just so that they could loot their carcasses like vultures, that there was no way to live but that. All they had was some ration cards, some supplies, each other, and the small hope that they would see the sun rise the following morning. 

That way of life seems like it would be complicated, but in fact it was very, very simple. All they had to do was smuggle, stick together, and more than anything, survive. And in those rare and beautiful in-between-moments like Sloane and the wildflowers, visits to Frank and Bill’s, staying up late drinking with Tommy, or some other tomfoolery, that’s what made it so worthwhile.

“We’ve got new wildflowers to lay in, Tommy,” Sloane added affectionately, not noticing how her brown eyes had become misty. “And new people to lay in them with.”

Tommy swallowed a phantom lump in his throat. “I know it, but I really liked laying in em with you.” 

Sloane’s brows furrowed momentarily as if debating if it were some sort of double entendre. But she decided that it didn’t matter. Tommy’s potentially lingering feelings weren’t for her to decode and comb through. Sloane did have moments where she missed the simpler times, but nothing compared to what she was looking towards. She gave him a sweet smile. “We gonna play some Rummy or what? It’s probably gonna be another hour before Jo’s done helping Maria with the nursery’s finishing touches.” 

Tommy huffed a laugh. “Yeah, Savage. It’s a shame I’m gonna whoop you though.”

“Uh uh,” Sloane rebutted. “I’m sober as a judge. Ain’t nothin gonna get past me.”

“We’ll see,” Tommy teased. “You always was all talk.”

“I ain’t, Tommy Miller!” Sloane replied with her mouth agape. She threw a throw pillow at him, and he laughed. 

April 1, 2013 Jackson, Wyoming

Sloane popped in the 90210 VHS and nestled down into the loveseat, spreading the quilt over her. She felt a warm gush between her thighs, and when she looked at it, her eyes widened in realization. Seriously? Now? 

“JO?” Sloane called aloud. 

“Yeah, darlin?” Joel called back. 

“I reckon it’s time!” 

There was a series of heavy, hurried footsteps down the stairs, and when Joel appeared, his face was slack and pale. “If this is your idea of some April Fool’s joke, Slo, I swear–”

Sloane huffed and stood up. She pointed to a wet spot on the front of her jeans. “Ain’t no fuckin April Fool’s joke!” 

“Jesus H. Christ,” Joel replied in disbelief. He stood there frozen for a moment, looking as if he were on the verge of short circuiting. 

“Hellooo,” Sloane waved her hand in front of him. “We gotta go see Tris.” 

“Right,” Joel muttered as he ran to the door. He opened it, letting it swing. He left it ajar and started down the driveway. 

Sloane couldn’t help but laugh as she shook her head. “Joel Miller, ain’t you missin somethin?” Sloane called out to him as she watched him from the porch. Joel’s brown haired head whipped around, and the whites of his eyes largened. He hustled back over to her. “I reckon you’re more nervous than me,” she mused.

“I sure am sorry, baby,” he apologized as he grabbed her arm to help her waddle down the stairs. 

There was a type of panic stricken across Joel’s face that was impossibly endearing to Sloane. He often was a worry wart, but this was different. This was a fatherly concern. 

“We’re alright, Jo,” Sloane encouraged with a soft smile. “All we gotta do is get to Tris, okay?”

“Okay,” he replied as his tongue darted out to his lip to concentrate on Sloane’s slow, clumsy movements. 

After twelve hours of labor, Sloane gave birth to the first twin. Twenty seven minutes after that, she gave birth to the second. And just like that, their family had doubled. Sloane heaved a sigh and laid back against the pillows. Joel bobbed on his feet as he rocked their daughter, Sutton, in one of his arms as he dabbed a towel against the perspiration on Sloane’s head. 

“I knew they was jokers, but I didn’t expect them to commit to the bit and be born on April Fool’s,” Joel laughed a light, but joyous laugh. 

Tristan laid Sawyer in Sloane’s arms, and she gave her little sister turned doctor an appreciative smile. Her eyes addressed Joel again. “Of course they did. They’re your children after all,” she teased with a quirked brow. 

Joel’s rumble of a laugh tumbled from his chest, and it was enough to warm Sloane from the inside out. Sloane turned her attention to their son. His small eyes were fluttered shut, and he had a full head of dark brown hair. Sloane leaned down and smelled his head. It was positively the best thing that she ever smelled, and of that, she was certain. Joel sat down in a chair beside her bed and nudged Sutton closer to her. Their daughter was bald, and her eyes were wide and curious. 

“Guess brother took all the hair, didn’t he, sister?” Sloane cooed as she brought her face closer to Sutton. “You’re gonna have to make him pay for that one, ain’t ya?” 

“Fuckin right,” Joel chuckled. 

“Give her here, baby,” Sloane told Joel. “I want to hold both of em.” 

Joel’s dark brows raised. “You sure? I’m sure you’re real tuckered out.”

Sloane gave him a sweet, appreciative smile. She dipped her chin. “Yes, I’m sure. I’m gonna hold em for a beat then I’ll nap. Promise.” 

“Alright, then. Deal,” Joel agreed as he settled Sutton into the crook of Sloane’s other arm. 

Sloane smelled Sutton’s head too, and she felt a prickle of tears in her eyes. It was as if the culmination of her life’s pitfalls and pain brought her there, and Sloane was finding out that it had all been worth it. And just when Sloane thought that she’d seen everything from Joel, he wound up surprising her again. He was wearing that exact look of quiet peace that he’d worn in her dream. That paired with the weight of her children in her arm…it was more than enough for her. She let her tears consume her and fall as they may as she clutched both of the twins close.

Sloane caught the glimpse of Joel wiping his eyes in her peripheral vision, and when she looked at him, he had tears of his own. He shook his head softly. “You’re just so beautiful,” he said, with tears yanking his voice. “I ain’t never seen nothin like it.” 

The way that Joel looked at her was new too. There had always been moments where she’d catch him looking at her ardently, but this look was pride and disbelief in equal measure. It was like he couldn’t believe that he had her, and he was proud of himself for it. Sloane wished that it were possible for her to bottle up that look, but she also knew that it wasn’t going to be the last time that she saw it. Not by a long shot. Sloane was sure that she looked rougher than Hell–all disheveled and exhausted, but her husband had a way of making her feel like the most gorgeous creature that ever walked the Earth. 

“You get any sweeter, my teeth are all gonna fall out,” Sloane mused as she leaned her head up to him. He cupped her cheeks with his warm, calloused hands and kissed her head a few times. 

“I’m so proud of you,” he sighed against her blonde hair. 

“I’m proud of us,” Sloane countered. “We got us a little family.” 

Joel rubbed his thumb gently against Sawyer’s cheek. “Fuckin right,” he replied quietly, giving the twins the same look of pride and disbelief. 

May 14, 2013 Jackson, Wyoming 

Life with a newborn, no less two, was enough to flip the Miller household upside down. It only got better as time went on and the two parents got used to the routine, but Sloane hadn’t seen a good night’s rest in weeks. Joel had taken the brunt of the midnight duties when one or both of the twins was crying, but Sloane had always been a light sleeper. So even though Joel was tending to the babies, their cries would wake her up anyway. 

On one similar morning, Sloane was amidst a restful fit of sleep when she heard twin cries. She groaned and batted Joel awake with her hand. 

It took a few tries because Joel had become a heavy sleeper since settling into the peace of Jackson as if he were finally catching up from the time stolen from him after the Outbreak. “Wh-what?” Joel awoke with a start. 

“Pick your poison,” Sloane replied groggily, her voice thick with sleep. “Little Miss Cries-A-Lot or Poop Machine.”

Joel tossed back the cover and got out of bed. “I got em both. Go back to bed.” 

Sloane tossed back the covers too. “Naw, I’m already up thanks to them. So take your pick.” 

“I’ll take the Poop Machine,” Joel waved a hand in the air. “Just walk Sutton round the house. She’ll pipe down soon nough.” A knowing grin appeared on Sloane’s face, but she didn’t say anything. It had been her that told him that tactic, but she was going to let Joel believe that him discovered it for himself. His dark brows furrowed. “What’s the look for? Are you gonna tell me I’m mansplainin again?”

“Nothin,” Sloane shook her head with a hearty chuckle. “I ain’t say nothin at all.”

Joel clicked his tongue and raised an eyebrow at her. Sloane shooed him out of the bedroom, and they both walked to the baby’s room, their bare feet padding softly against the wooden floors in the dead of night. 

Sloane scooped Sutton up in her arms. She checked the baby’s diaper and peered at the clock. It wasn’t another two hours before they were due to be fed because Joel had brought them to her just an hour ago for her to feed. And just like Joel said, all it took was a few laps up and down the hallway for the child to quiet. 

“You just wanted some lovins, huh, button?” Sloane whispered to her daughter as she rocked her in her arms. She walked back over to the crib and set her inside. Sloane let out a thankful exhale that the child didn’t wake again. She bobbed her head in Joel’s direction. “Well?”

“Sure as shit,” Joel huffed a laugh. “I swear to God, I dunno where it all comes from.” 

Sloane laughed too. She reached out for Joel’s hand and kissed it. “You know I appreciate you, don’t ya?” 

“Yes ma’am,” Joel replied before pressing kisses on her cheek. “And I appreciate you, but you coulda stayed in bed.” 

Sloane shot him a look. “You really think I can sleep through that? Those jokers scream at the top of their ever-lovin lungs.” 

Joel wrapped his strong arounds around her and rubbed her back. “They get that from you.” 

Sloane pulled away from him and rebutted, “Bullshit!” 

Joel stuck his teasing tongue out. “C’mon, Mama, let’s get you back to bed,” he said before scooping her up in his arms. 

“I have two workin legs,” Sloane bantered.

“Just let me be sweet, huh?” Joel scolded her. 

“Fine, fine,” Sloane said with a laugh.

June 1, 2013 Jackson, Wyoming

Sloane just finished cleaning the stalls, and only in the way that she could, she found herself missing the smell of the manure. It surely wasn’t the smell itself, but it was what it stood for–freedom and hard work. Between the hours of 6 to 8 AM, Sloane got to be who she always was–a horse-handler and horse-handler only. In the other twenty two hours of the day, she was a wife and a mother. And while she loved those jobs too, those two hours were a very welcomed change of pace. 

“Hi, baby,” a familiar voice greeted.

When Sloane looked over, she saw Joel. With him was Sutton and Sawyer, both snugly strapped in front of her husband’s chest in a stretchy sage green swath of fabric. Sloane’s face immediately lit up as she went to greet her little family. 

“What are you two doin?” she cooed as she rubbed both of their heads. Sutton was sleeping, but Sawyer was giving her the widest, gummiest smile. “Are you walkin round town with your Pa?” Sawyer gurgled as if to respond, and Sloane leaned up to peck Joel on the lips. She took the sight in of him again as she loosed a low whistle. “I dunno where in the Sam Hill you found this, but it’s a goood look for you, Daddy.” Sloane thought that she would’ve gotten over how sexy Joel looked as a father, but it was as if it were a new sight each and every time. 

“It was in that box o’ stuff Seth gave us from his grandkids,” Joel acknowledged. He winked at her as he tapped her on the butt. “Glad you think so.” 

Sloane cocked her head. “Not that I ain’t glad to see ya, but what’s goin on?” 

Joel flashed his eyebrows playfully. “We’re gonna do a little baby exchange today with Tommy and Maria. Tommy claims that Benji’s more of a handful than both Sutton and Sawyer, so we’re gonna show him just how hard twins actually are.” 

Sloane gave him a wicked smirk. “He’s gonna drown quicker than an anchor.” She leaned down to both her babies. “You two are gonna be on your worst behavior for uncle Tommy, ain’t you?” Sawyer agreed with another babble. “That’s right.”

“I mean, really,” Joel remarked as he popped his hip out and put one of his arms on it. “It’s double the diapers, feedin, everythin.” 

Joel’s annoyance at Tommy’s insinuation was enough to make her lean over and bark out a laugh. He was probably bristled by the accusation, and his handsome face was creased with it. “You tell em, baby,” Sloane encouraged with a teasing smile. 

Joel rolled his brown eyes and turned around. He waved his hand. “C’mon, little savage. We’ve a bet to win.” 

When Tommy opened the door, he couldn’t help but snicker at the sight of Joel. “God Almighty, now I’ve surely seen everything. You look ridiculous.”

Joel raised dark, warning brows as he bobbed the sleeping children in the papoose. “Laugh all you want, but I know you’re fixin to be wearin it when it’s two against one. Right now you and Benji are on a level playin field, but boy, you just wait. Twins are a whole different ballgame.” 

Sloane shook her head with a shit-eating grin as she listened to the two brothers talk. “Hey, Ria.” She gave Maria a hug. “I swear, men will turn anythin into a competition.”

Maria chuckled and joked herself. “I’m almost certain that I’ve seen them argue about watching paint dry.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Sloane chortled. “So, how we gonna play this? Are we sworn enemies or are we gonna give each other inside knowledge?”

“Psh,” Maria exhaled with an amused smile. “I think we should let the Miller men duke this one out. Sounds like a day off for the moms if I ever heard one. Are you in?”

Sloane held up her hand. “Say less.” She turned to the squabbling brothers. “Maria and I’ve decided that this is the dads score to settle. We’re gonna relax while ya’ll run around like chickens with your heads cut off.” 

There was a ghost of a smile on Joel’s face as he shook his head. “The Allstar player abandonin her team right before the big game. Can you believe that, Sutton?” Joel looked down at his daughter who’d just opened her eyes. 

“Are you scared now, Joel?” Tommy goaded his big brother. 

Joel scoffed and looked down at Sutton again. “Are you hearin this? Your Uncle Bonehead is flappin his gums again.” Sutton cooed and giggled, and Joel looked back up at Tommy. “I’m so certain you’re gonna lose that I’ll let you have home court advantage. We’ll run this little experiment right here and now at your house. All I need to do is grab a Pack-N-Play and some bottles, and you’re toast, boy.” 

“Like I even need it,” Tommy replied confidently.

Sloane nodded and interjected. “Oh, you need it.” She turned to look at Joel and gave him a wink. 

The wives sat in the living room, snacking and chatting, while their husbands carried out some child swap experiment. The irony was that although the wives were poking fun at their husbands’ trash talk, it wasn’t long before they were participating too. It just so turned out that Maria’s competitive streak was just as fierce as Sloane’s. Sloane and Maria coached their husbands from the sidelines covertly at first–a nudge here or a mouthed word there, but after half an hour, they were full on telling them what they ought to do. 

“I dunno what the two of you even complain about,” Tommy scoffed as he sat in the recliner while Sutton and Sawyer snoozed in either of his arms. “I haven’t so much as heard a peep from these two.”

Sloane nodded wordlessly with a knowing grin on her face. Most of the time, the twins were very mellow, but the ultimate pitfall is that when one of them got going, it would get the other going. It was almost like they fed off of each other’s energy. Sloane couldn’t wait to see how Tommy’s tune would change once he was dealing with not only one, but two crying babies. 

Benji, on the other hand, wouldn’t stop crying. Despite that, there was no chip in Joel’s armor. He kept a calm, cool, and collected approach as he tried various things. None of them seemed to work. Sloane watched as he fed, changed, and tried to put the baby down. Joel resorted to pacing up and down the hallway with Benji in tow. The movement often calmed their babies, but nothing could make Benji happy. 

“How you holdin up, Joel?” Tommy teased as he reclined lazily. “Just cause you got two babies don’t mean you workin just as hard as me and Maria. Specially when you got a Benji. Sutton and Sawyer just like to hang out.” 

Sloane turned her brown eyed gaze to the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. She raised her brows when she realized that in about two minutes, one of the two would start crying because they were hungry which would get the other one crying. The second wouldn’t even know why they were crying until they saw the first with the bottle which would only make the second cry harder. Keep trash talkin, Tommy. Sloane tapped her cowboy booted foot on the hard wood in anticipation. 

Right on time, Sutton began crying just as the clock thrummed the top of the hour. Sloane and Joel had found that keeping them on as strict a schedule as possible worked best for them, and the twins had begun catching on. And just like clockwork, Sawyer began crying too. As Joel completed a pacing pass by the living room, the husband and wife gave each other a knowing look. 

“How you holdin up, Tommy?” Sloane teased as she crossed her leg. Tommy was silent, and that was vindication enough for her. 

When Sloane caught sight of Joel again, she mimed like she was burping a baby. He probably has gas, she mouthed. Joel nodded and assumed the position, using his large hand to gently pat the squawling child’s back. When that didn’t work, Joel’s eyes pleaded to Sloane’s for help. She pointed to the blanket on the ground, and Joel knew right away what to do.

Joel set Benji down on his back on the blanket. The baby's cries grew even more inconsolable, and when Joel paused to reassess his actions, Sloane encouraged him. “Talk sweet to him, Jo!” 

The room had become a frantic mess of babies crying and the wives coaching their husbands on what to do next. “Bottle. Try a bottle!” Maria instructed. Tommy nodded to himself and struggled to stand with the double dutied weight of them both. He shuffled to the kitchen to fix it, and once Sloane heard Sawyer’s cries reach a feverpitch, she knew that he saw the bottle. 

Sloane chuckled to herself and watched as Joel grabbed Benji’s legs in each hand and began doing a motion something akin to riding a bicycle. “Run, run, run, run,” Joel said with an endearing smile. “Annnnnnnd stop!” Joel pressed Benji’s knees to his chest and completed the process all over again. 

“Keep goin,” Sloane nodded to Joel. 

Tommy reemerged juggling two babies and two bottles. He settled back down into his seat with some trouble that Sloane knew all too well. Sloane couldn’t help but give a pouty face in his direction because the sounds of their needy squealing tugged at her heart. She knew that they were in good hands and only mere feet away, but the sound did something to her motherly instincts. 

After a few more attempts, the roaring loudspeaker that was Benji finally piped down. Joel lifted his nephew off the blanket and cradled him again, almost dancing him around the room. “That’s right, you right as rain now, ain’t ya? Ain’t ya?” Joel pointed and laughed at Tommy. “It was gas, motherfucker!” 

Tommy rolled his eyes as he tried to get Sawyer to quit his crying and grab hold of the bottle. Sutton was greedily drinking hers, so she was quieted too, but Sawyer’s cries were proving more rambunctious than even Benji’s. Sloane watched the exchange with raised brows, knowing that for whatever reason, Sawyer would only feed if he was propped up more.

After a few more minutes of watching it and Maria trying to help to no avail, Sloane stepped in. By the panicked looks in Maria and Tommy’s face, she knew already that she and Joel were justified. Sloane walked over to Sawyer and picked him up. She settled him back down, propped up in the crook of his arm, and he took the bottle fervently.

“What is he some Momma’s boy or somethin? You ain’t tell me that,” Tommy huffed as he watched Sawyer. 

“I reckon I am his favorite, but no,” Sloane explained with a smile as she looked down at her child. “He’s nosy as all Hell and likes to keep watch over everythin while he eats.”

Tommy clicked his tongue, and he couldn’t help but smile. “Damned busybody.” 

“Go awn and admit it,” Joel said with a smirk as he walked an almost-snoozing Benji around the room. 

“Well if I had Maria–” Tommy began.

“No, no, no,” Sloane chided with a smirk of her own. “Admit it.” 

Maria and Tommy exchanged glances, and Tommy sighed. “Fine. I s’pose you two got your work cut out for ya.”

“Naw, you gotta admit it,” Joel teased. “Admit that Slo and I ain’t been livin on easy street and that it’s more work than Benji. I mean, this boy can cry but it’s just cause he’s gassy like his Pa.”

Water flew from Maria’s mouth as she tried to take a sip of her water. She couldn’t help but laugh at Joel. This made Sloane laugh too. 

Tommy shrugged his shoulders in defeat. “Two’s worse than one, you got me,” he admitted but not before holding up a finger. “I’m only sayin that cause these two plotted against me. I mean they double teamed me. It ain’t fair.”

“Nothin’s fair in love and twins, Tommy,” Sloane mused with that same smirk as she held the bottle for Sawyer. She passed a look at Joel, and he gave her a wink. Sloane nodded at him and stuck out her tongue. Got em, she mouthed.

Chapter Text

May 22, 2013 Jackson, Wyoming 

Sloane ran her hand down Ruger’s black mane as equal parts excitement and dread roiled in her gut. She’d been advised both by Joel and Tristan not to ride a horse while pregnant, and then she had to wait a few weeks after giving birth to make sure that her body was up to the task. The horse trainer was loath to be away from her Appaloosa, and now that she was in the moment, it felt like the first time riding a horse in some ways. It wasn’t, not by a long shot, and still, she felt different. She didn’t feel as bulletproof as she once had; now she had so much more to lose. 

“You didn’t forget how we done do things now did you, Rug?” Sloane whispered to the stallion. Ruger gave her a soft nicker that made her smile. “You better not’ve.” 

Joel tightened Smith’s reins and patted his side as he leveled a look at Sloane. “I told you I kept him in tip top shape.” 

Sloane raised an eyebrow. “So you said. I reckon we’ll see about that, won’t we?” She continued to stroke Ruger’s mane.

“You know you gotta get on the horse to be able to ride it, Slo,” he teased. 

Sloane clicked her tongue and sighed. “I know, I just–” 

Joel cocked his head and frowned slightly. His voice was gentle and low. “The twins are gonna be fine for a few hours, Mama.” 

Her shoulders rose and fell. “I know, I know. Feelin guilty and a tad bit worried is all. What if somethin goes wrong, and they need me?”

“Baby…” Joel trailed as he walked over to her. He put his hand on the small of her back. “They couldn’t be in better company. I mean, Hell, Tris is a pediatric surgeon after all.” He chuckled softly which made Sloane smile.

She nodded. “You’re right. It’s the weirdest thing. I’ve been dyin to ride, and now that I have the chance, all I want is to be back home with the babies.” 

Joel wrapped his arms around her and kissed her cheek. “We can always come back another day.” 

Sloane leaned her head to the side to better collect his kisses. “No, no. I need to cowgirl up.” 

Joel pulled away and slapped her butt. “Then get to it.” 

Sloane rolled her eyes as she redirected her attention back to Ruger. She took one final exhale before saying, “Up, Ruger.” Ruger dutifully lifted his leg, exposing the bottom of his foot just as Sloane had taught him. She stepped onto the horseshoe, using it as she would a stirrup, and slung herself over. Once seated atop the horse, she praised him and took out a sugar cube for him. “Good boy,” she said as she leaned over and held it out for him. 

“Told you he’s doin just fine,” Joel said with raised brows.

“We still gotta see how he rides,” she winked. “No offense, Rug,” she whispered to the horse. Sloane clicked her tongue loudly and tapped her boot along his side, prompting him to move. Ruger obliged, and not before long, he had broken out into a run. 

She trusted that Joel had taken care of the horse, but to no fault of his own, he simply wasn’t her. Joel didn’t like to push horses’ limits unless he had to, whereas the horse trainer knew that in many cases, especially with the mustangs, all they wanted to do was be pushed and pushed. Sloane tapped Ruger’s side again and urged him with the reins. “C’mon, bud.” 

Ruger broke out into a sprint, and for a moment, it simply took Sloane’s breath away. She reveled at how her body jerked with every stride of movement. For months, she’d been treated like a fragile little thing, and now she was getting to experience life the way in which she felt it in her bones–fast, rough, and completely wild. She craned her head up to the sunshine and was awestruck at the way the wind brushed against her skin. Sloane slowly took her hands off the reins and whooped into the giant, blue, and wide-open sky. “WOOOOHOOOOO!” she called out.

Sloane took control again, and Ruger maintained his quickened pace. She looked over her shoulder to find Smith and Joel trailing behind them. She nodded knowingly to herself. “No one can fuckin catch you and I, can they?” 

They rode like that for a while, so that Sloane and Ruger could get reacquainted with each other in the way they were before. The two souls had always been bonded, but after that run, they were steeled as one again. Sloane and Joel let the two horses drink and rest as they sat beside a gentle running stream. 

Sloane couldn’t stop looking around them at the bounty of nature that she’d been missing. Months cooped up in town, and she was finally getting to see what had been waiting out there for her again. She couldn't quite name the overwhelmingly sweet, potent feeling no matter how hard she tried. Sloane was reminded of what she’d known her entire life; she had a horse heart in the place where her human one should be. She was enraptured by a flock of birds flying over the mountain range when Joel finally spoke.

“Still missin those babies?” Joel teased.

“Naw,” she admitted easily as she continued watching the avian. Her brown eyes widened once she realized what she’d said. “I mean, yeah course I do, but I forgot just how much I missed this too.” 

“I know, baby. I was just teasin," he joked as he nudged against her. His face turned slightly serious. “I did hate keepin you cooped up like that, but it was just–”

“Too dangerous, I know,” Sloane interrupted with an understanding smile. “You did the right thing tellin me what was what. If somethin woulda happened to Sutton and Sawyer all cause I was too stubborn and wanted to ride...” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t have come back from that.” 

“But now you’re back at it again,” Joel replied as he patted her knee with a laugh. 

“Back at it again,” she nodded with a mile-wide smile. She closed her eyes to soak up the sunshine feeling after a long winter. 

“Sometimes I forget just how made for this you really are,” Joel admitted as he admired her. “I was watchin you the whole time, just you ridin. You was happier than a kid on Christmas–all giggling and smiling and whatnot. This is your element.” 

Sloane opened her eyes and looked at Joel. Her husband had a knack for not only seeing who she was but knowing who she was. She gave him a mischievous smile before turning back to look at the water.

Joel narrowed his eyes playfully as he cocked his head. “What’re you lookin at me like that for, huh?” Sloane bit her lip and shrugged. She knew what she wanted, but still after all this time, she still liked to be chased. A restrained noise broke in Joel’s throat. He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. “I asked you a question,” he chided with raised brows.

“Nothin,” Sloane squeaked.

Joel tongue darted out to wet his lip as he raised her chin higher. His brown eyes were trained on her as he took his thumb and brushed it against her bottom lip slowly. Once he got to the other corner, he pushed the digit into her mouth. The whites of his eyes widened a touch as if prompting her to take it, and Sloane did so with enthusiasm. “Nothin, my ass,” Joel chuckled darkly as he pushed the finger in and out of her mouth. He swirled it around slightly before withdrawing it completely. Sloane’s bottom lip instinctively puffed out to pout. “Tell Daddy what you want, Mama.” 

Sloane smirked slightly and shrugged again. This drove Joel to grasp her by the throat. A surprised whimper passed her lips, and she knew that if she was in her element before, then she was really in her element now–under his thumb. Sloane continued to play her coy game as she looked up at him through hooded lids. He tightened his grasp on her throat. “Tell me.” Sloane’s nipples hardened, and she could feel them leaking through her shirt. Joel’s lashes fluttered as he caught sight of it briefly, and not before long, his free hand was tearing through her belt, button, and zipper. His broad chest rose and fell with the passionate effort. “Fine, but you ain’t gonna be quiet for much longer. Bet on that.” 

From his words to Sloane’s ears, she was already moaning senselessly by the time his hand snaked between her thighs and ran a digit along her wet folds. Sloane had been dying for his touch for weeks, and Joel knew it. His strokes were slow, tortuous, and lazy. He teased her as he gave her an expectant look. 

“Please,” Sloane pleaded weakly with a rasp in her voice. 

“Please what, Mama?” Joel goaded her. He bought his lips up to one of her ears, his hot breath ghosting against her skin so much that she shivered. “Tell me what you want, and it’s yours.” 

Her calm and cool approach ended as quickly as it started. His touch was like fire in her blood, burning her from the inside out. Sloane squeezed her thighs together to compound the pressure. “I want your fingers inside me,” she whined. 

A dark yet righteous smirk stretched across Joel’s handsome face. Not one, but two of his thick fingers found their way inside, and Sloane wrapped her arm around Joel to steady herself. “Not so quiet now, huh?”

“N-no, Daddy,” Sloane agreed with another shiver. 

Joel sucked on his bottom lip and shook his head. She knew the way that word lit him up too. He withdrew his fingers, and in a flash, clawed his way through Sloane’s pants and underwear. He helped her out of her shirt too, throwing each of the articles to the side with careless abandon. With one hand behind his back, he lifted his shirt off, revealing his broad chest and etched abdomen. Sloane’s greedy fingers reached for Joel’s western belt buckle to free him from his pants, but his hand locked around her wrist. He looked down at her. “Not yet. Lie back.” 

Sloane laid herself back on the plush grass, and as she looked up, the wispy clouds sailed past them. Joel nipped at the soft flesh of her inner thigh, and Sloane propped herself up on her elbows to look at him. Joel forced her legs apart so that she was spread eagle, and his proprietary hands found purchase in the soft flesh of Sloane’s hips. His brown eyes watched hers as he dipped his head to her wet heat. His flattened tongue met her core as he licked her in one long strip, and her back was already arching at the simple touch as her body pumped with preemptive adrenaline. “Fuck, I missed this so bad,” she breathed. 

Joel hummed against her core–a ghost of a smile on his face. He sucked and nipped at her clit, then using the flat of his tongue to soothe it. Joel’s hand reached for one of Sloane’s, and he guided it to her sensitive nub. “Help me out, baby,” he instructed. Sloane’s fingers obliged, circling around her clit, her only response a heady moan. “Good girl,” he praised her as he plunged two fingers back into her as he lavished her folds. The two lovers moved like a well-oiled machine, and Joel knew each one of her tells in exhaustive detail–each moan, each sigh, each twitch. 

Joel sunk a third thick finger, all the way to the knuckle, into her pussy. Sloane cussed as her body jerked, her fingers moving faster against her clit. Joel’s mouth had begun to make slurping sounds as he tried to collect as much of her essence on his tongue as possible. “Godfuckindamnit,” he huffed against her wet heat. “That pussy is so sweet.” His tongue bullied her fingers away, taking ownership of her clit for itself. Sloane ran her fingers through Joel’s hair as his tongue and fingers worked on her stunningly. Ravishingly. 

Her grasp tightened as she could feel her toes curl. “Jo, I’m–” Sloane interrupted herself with a mewling moan. 

“I know, baby,” he replied as his mouth made more raucous arrangements of lewd sounds against her wetness. “C’mon, give it to me.” His words were broken and hungry as if he were on the verge of starvation without her. His black pupils were so blown that only a halo of brown surrounded them. Sloane’s needs grew and grew as Joel’s aquiline nose buried itself within her too. She could feel his coarse mustache and beard rub against her, and she couldn’t fight the crashing wave that came over her. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Sloane panted as writhed underneath him, bucking wildly. “Right there. Right there. Please.” Her body raised in a bridge pose to bring herself closer to his face. Joel’s mouth sucked her flesh as his three fingers jammed into her mercilessly. They reached her G-spot, and Sloane moans and cusses were raw and unsanctimonious as she praised him. 

“That’s it, baby.” Joel kept a firm grip on her as she flopped around like a fish out of water when her orgasm came over her. He didn’t relent his efforts either until he felt her hole flutter around his fingers and her body stilled. 

Sloane threw her head back against the plush grass and breathed heavily as she watched the summer clouds again. Her rigid body was now loose and satisfied, but Joel was still half-starving as he licked the remnants of her come off his fingers and pussy, savoring every last drop. He gave her inner thigh one last nip before raising his head. Her wetness glistened on his chin, nose, and lips, and the sight made Sloane’s heart quicken all over again. 

She brought herself back up to meet him, and she closed the distance. Sloane interspersed her tongue and lips as she cleaned herself off his face–herself tasting all the sweeter because it was off his tongue. His tongue wrestled with hers, and his feral groans echoed in her mouth. Sloane’s fingers fumbled for his belt buckle, and before she undid it, she paused and looked at him. “Go awn,” he approved, almost drunkenly. 

Sloane undid it in record time as she kissed along his strong jaw. She bit the lobe of his ear, and her hot breaths huffed into it. “I’ve thought about this moment for what feels like damn near forever.”

Joel’s chuckle was light as he grabbed a fistful of her blonde hair. He yanked her head away from him slightly to look at her. His eyes roved from to hers to her lips, back and forth a few times before growling, “I need you right fuckin now.” The hopeless wreckage in his voice made Sloane’s lips part. She gave him one last wide-eyed and wild look before tackling him to the ground. She tugged his clothes off with no protest from him, but as she kissed her way down his abdomen to his cock, he stopped her. “No more handjobs or blowjobs. I want to be deep in that cunt.” 

The declaration brought a smirk to Sloane’s lips. Given the need to let her body heal after childbirth, they’d resorted to other ways to remedy their mutual lust. She went into this telling herself to be patient, so that her husband could savor it, but upon finding out that he also was too impatient to wait, she was nothing short of pleased. “Fine by me,” she replied huskily. 

Sloane straddled him and put her hands on his chest to steady herself. She reached down to his hardness and used the tip to tease her entrance. This elicited a hiss from Joel’s throat as he laid back and watched her devoutly. Although Sloane’s mouth was nearly watering, she took her time to tease him as he often did to her, but Joel wasn’t having it. He took hold of his cock in one hand and shot her a warning glance. “Quit playin round. You had yours, now give me mine.” 

A wave of heat flushed over Sloane’s body. For someone who didn’t like to be told by anyone what to do, she really loved it when it was her husband doing the telling. It was as if her body responded to him on its own volition. Sloane bit her lip and nodded, keeping her eyes trained on Joel. She took her time lowering herself onto him, savoring how with each passing inch, his heavy cock threatened to split her in half. At her final inch of descent, she let gravity drop her onto it, and Joel’s moan ripped through the air.

“Ugh, that’s my good girl,” he praised her as his fingers dug into her hips. He used his strength to bob her up and down on him. “C’mon now and fuck Daddy, Slo.” 

His encouraging, borderline goading words broke something in Sloane. Her hole fluttered around him, finally getting accustomed to the sheer size of him. She kept her hands on his chest as she undulated her sex against his. Her wetness had already pooled between them, and Sloane couldn’t remember a time when she’d been wetter. After weeks of being taunted with his breathtaking body and crushing, compounding attraction that came with seeing him as a father to their children, Sloane’s mind had turned to mush as she fucked him. All she knew in that moment was Joel’s body pressing up against hers. His fingers dug into her sides. “Faster, Mama.”

Sloane had been supporting her weight on her knees, but she readjusted herself and sat on her heels. She used her lower body strength to slide Joel in and out of her quicker. Sloane’s breaths quickened too as she asked, “Like that?”

Joel’s hips bucked against her, sheathing himself to her hilt. “Just like that,” he slurred, in a daze. Their flesh smacked together as they converged and diverged, only to converge again. Sloppy, blabbering moans spilled out of Sloane’s mouth as she got high on feeling his thick cock inside of her. She could feel it pressing into her cervix by its sheer length, and she found herself nearly surprised by the fact all over again, despite laying with him hundreds of times prior. Sloane knew that the way she and Joel’s bodies spoke to each other wasn’t something that could be understood, no matter how hard she tried. It was simple, effortless, and intoxicating. 

Joel grabbed both of Sloane’s arms, and in a flash of movement, he rolled himself on top of her. With the same impatient force, he raised both of her legs to his shoulders. Sloane licked her lips as she watched him line his cock back up against her entrance. With a low groan, he thrust himself back into her. “I need–” he struggled to say through passionate breaths as his hips rutted against hers. “I needed to be deeper.” 

Sloane squeaked as each thrust grew more punishing than the last. She locked her legs around his neck at the ankle to urge him even closer to her. “Since we’re both tellin what we need,” Sloane began as her chest rose and fell with effort too. “I need to feel you come inside me.” It was as if the statement made Sloane itchy like an addict having their choice drug being dangled in front of her. The very prospect of feeling the warmth of Joel’s seed rush inside of her made her mouth go dry with want. 

“Godfuckindamnit,” Joel replied, his voice thin and almost in a whimper. “I’ve been dreamin about paintin your insides. Wakin up in the middle of the night hard as a fuckin rock.” He slammed his cock into her with renewed gusto. “I have to beat off just to go back to sleep.” 

It was both gratifying and enough to drive her downright insane to hear that Joel’s body craved her as obsessively as hers did his. Sloane used her leg strength to pull Joel down. She clawed at him to bring his face to hers, and as soon as their lips joined, her tongue had slipped inside his mouth. “Fill me. Fill me,” Sloane pleaded into his mouth. Her tongue swirled against his, and the sounds coming from Joel’s throat were low and guttural. Needy. 

Sloane’s hands clung around Joel’s neck too as she felt her body pulse on the edge of an orgasm. She thrust herself against him with as much power as she could, and just as soon, she came undone around him. “Fuck, I’m comin,” Sloane mewled as his lips threatened to swallow hers. It was as if static had overtaken the blood in her veins, filling her field of vision with a sea of stars. Sloane’s body contorted this way and that as she came all over Joel’s cock, making the wet, lewd sounds between their two bodies that much wetter and lewder. 

The indescribable pressure that had been tormenting her gut had released itself in the most delicious display to date, and yet Joel still plunged into her fervently. There was a look of intense laser focus in his bottomless brown eyes like he was utterly absorbed in his conquest. Sloane’s heavy breasts rose and fell as he slammed into her, stuffing her fill to the brim. There was a break in his concentration as he commanded, “Beg. Fuckin beg for it.” Joel couldn’t hide his own begging that riddled his voice when he spoke. 

She pressed open mouthed kisses against his neck. Sloane was never too proud to beg, plead, and grovel when it came to Joel. There was a time once when she tried to mask how wild he drove her, but that habit had long since been buried. She bit down once and hard under his jawline before obliging with heady moans. “Come in me. Please. Please.” 

“Fuck,” he muttered. Any last shred of composure that Joel had been mustering up had worn out. He snaked his arm under her back and pulled her impossibly close to him. Joel pushed his lips against hers to hush the groans from deep within his very core. They exchanged breaths in their deep kisses. With one final thrust, Joel squeezed Sloane as if holding her in a bear hug. All the while, she was squeezing him too in her own way–her pussy around his hard cock. Sloane could feel the warm heat of Joel’s spent entering her, and the tranquilizing effects of it were almost instantaneous. 

Joel’s body had grown heavy and limp on top of Sloane’s as he relaxed, but she didn’t mind one bit. She always felt somehow comforted when his weight pressed down on her. “I missed that,” Sloane wheezed as he compressed the air from her lungs. 

Joel chuckled, rich and warm. He rolled them again so that Sloane was on top of him. His cock fell out during the exchange, but to Sloane’s surprise, it was still hard and pressing against her stomach. “Clearly you did too,” she teased as she reached down to caress it. 

A soft moan escaped his lips before he admitted, “Yeah, and I’m still rock hard cause I been missin you so damn bad.” 

His words were music to Sloane’s ears. Although her pussy had grown puffy and sore from the generous fucking, it was throbbing needily for Joel all the same. Sloane raised herself slowly. She bit her lip and pinched her nipples–little droplets beading to the surface of her nipple and dripping onto her fingers. Joel raised himself too as if she were pulling him forth on some invisible string. 

He moved her hands gently, and as he kept his eyes on her, he flattened his tongue and ran it across her leaking nipples. Joel cleared his throat as if something were stuck in it. Sloane moaned gently as he massaged her breasts gingerly. They’d grown so heavy and sore that Sloane was all too happy to be relieved of the pressure as Joel held them up in his hands. His eyes were blown black again as he circled around her areolas–one with his mouth and the other with his finger. He teased her nipples in the same manner, and Sloane carded her fingers through his hair as she watched him, not wanting to miss a thing. 

Joel took one of her nipples into the heat of his mouth. His cheeks hollowed as he used light suction on it. The sight was so erotic that Sloane felt as if she were blushing. Joel had rendered her utterly speechless as he sucked some milk from her breast. He groaned in approval at her taste. Upon sucking again, he let some of it trickle from his mouth and down her body.  Joel watched her carefully too, probably in hopes of gauging Sloane’s reaction. All she could manage was a heady, desperate whimper.

Joel sat back and guided Sloane on his lap. He held her face in his hands and just looked at her. “You sexy little thing. Dunno how I got so lucky.” They exchanged silent breaths for a few moments before he reached a hand up and held it under her mouth. “Spit it in,” he instructed her. Sloane lowered her head to his hand and spit. Joel then reached down and rubbed his hand against her throbbing pussy, using her spit as lube. 

“So wet that we ain’t even need that,” Sloane laughed before wriggling herself against his hand to chase any relief. 

“I know it,” Joel replied. “I just like to watch you spit.” He guided her so that she was hovering above his hardness. He lowered her gently and praised her. “Go awn, use this cock. We ain’t done. Not yet.” 

A familiar fluttering took wing in Sloane’s chest, and she was raring to go all over again. She could feel the dirt and grass clinging to her skin from rolling around, and she peeked a glance at the grazing horses. They seemed to still be just fine, so she took it as the green light to go again. There was a greediness that couldn’t be assuaged in Sloane too. Their first time in weeks turning into a marathon…she wasn’t strong enough to turn that down nor did she want to. 

Sloane sunk herself down on his member, enveloping him in its heat. Joel licked her bottom lip and kissed her again, gently this time. “Take your time this go round, little savage,” Joel murmured against her lips. His hands trailed down to her hips, and he massaged them in his large palms. “Ain’t no need to rush this.” 

Sloane oscillated her hips at a lazy, leisurely pace. “I missed how you stretched me out.” She completed the fluid motion a few more times as she admired the way his spent had dripped down her thighs. “Sometimes I can’t hardly breathe cause I need you so bad.” 

“How you reckon I felt?” Joel questioned with wreckage in his voice. “Havin to tell you no so you could heal. I ain’t like tellin you no.” He chuckled before exhaling sharply, reveling in the way their two bodies collided. “But now you best believe I’m gone wear you out.” 

Sloane smirked and bit her lip. “Not if I wear you out first, Daddy.” 

Joel’s eyes glimmered at the provocation. He grabbed her ass cheeks with both hands. He used the leverage to push her down deeper onto him with each movement. “Them’s fightin words, darlin.” 

If Sloane could see her eyes too, she knew that they were dancing with amusement. “Then fight me,” she goaded him as she ramped up the pace. 

Without a further word, Joel stuck his middle finger in her mouth. He dragged it in and out before commanding, “Get it real wet now.” Sloane made sure to moisten it enough, and when Joel withdrew it, she felt his hand spread apart her ass cheeks. He teased her puckering hole with the wet finger. Sloane couldn’t help but resort to her helpless coos. Joel raised his brows expectantly. “You want it?” Sloane nodded. “Tell me you want it.” 

“I want it,” Sloane replied almost automatically. 

“Want what?” he asked with a shit-eating grin. 

“Play with my ass while you fuck me, please,” Sloane begged.

Joel’s eyes momentarily fluttered closed as he relished in her filthy language. Dirty talk was a key in both of their desires. Joel prompted Sloane to spit in his hand one more time before teasing her back entrance again. He took care to slowly inch his thick finger in so as to not overwhelm her. Sloane, however, longed to be overwhelmed and overpowered by him. She reached around and pressed against his hand to plunge the digit deeper. It was uncomfortable for a moment as her ass hole adjusted to his finger, but it was a sweet sting that had Sloane grounding herself down against Joel’s cock. 

“Impatient,” he teased with a tut. “Thought I told you to go slow.” 

“You also told me to use you,” Sloane retorted as she bit the lobe of his ear. She brought the volume of her husky voice down to a whisper. “So I’m usin you.” 

Joel took his free hand and smacked her ass once and hard. Sloane could feel the heat of her skin rising up immediately. He squeezed the cheek so tightly that she swore he’d leave bruises. “Jesus H. Christ you feel so good,” he moaned through gritted teeth. He seemed to forget his own words too as he bucked his hips off the ground to meet her and his finger worked faster. “You better hurry and get yours cause I’m fixin to fill you up again.” 

Sloane would’ve teased him more if she’d heard his words correctly, but instead, she was too busy getting lost in his body. Her stamina was waning to a stutter, and Joel began to compensate for her too by rutting his cock into her wet heat. One of his fingers fucked her ass hole as his cock fucked her pussy. Joel took his free hand and pushed two fingers past Sloane’s lips. “Look at you,” he purred. “Fillin up all your holes, ain’t I? Who’s usin who?” 

“Ngh, fuck. Use me! Use me!” Sloane couldn’t help but throw her head back, her eyes almost rolling. Joel had caused her to short-circuit, giving her no other choice but to be hurdled to the edge of orgasm. She moaned ceaselessly around his two fingers, that he then pushed towards the back of her throat. Sloane gagged on his fingers, and her ears welled with tears. She wasn’t sure which part of Joel threw her over the edge between his fingers, his words, and his cock, but Sloane’s body began to shake as it never shook before. She wrapped her legs around as she mewled his name over, and over, and over. 

Joel withdrew his fingers and clutched her hips to stabilize himself. Joel’s body shook with her too, and Sloane felt the torrent of heat rush between them. She could feel every shooting pulse of it, and she wiggled herself around on him as if to collect every last drop inside of her. He wrapped his strong arms around her and trailed his fingers against her back, making her shiver. “I’m so in love with you that I can’t see straight.” 

Sloane chuckled and pulled away slightly. She brushed some rogue hairs out of his face and cupped both of his cheeks. She kissed his nose, then each cheek, then his forehead, then his lips. All gentle and light. She shook her head softly. “If lovin’s makin me blind, then I ain’t ever wanna see again.” 

Joel chuckled too, and his smile was warm and loving. His brows furrowed as if he was thinking. “You ought to write that down. Could make a good song.” 

Sloane peeled herself away from his sweaty body and nodded as another laugh rumbled from her chest. She stood and held a hand out to help him up. “I reckon I will. Now let’s git so that we can see our babies.” 

“Sounds like a plan, baby,” Joel agreed. “Only we’re askin Tris to watch em same time next week.”

Sloane’s eyes widened in agreement. “Fuckin right,” she chortled. 

Chapter Text

June 2nd, 2013 Jackson, Wyoming 

Sloane watched from atop the ginormous wooden entrance gate as a group of people poured through. They’d all been inspected and vetted by Maria and the others before being given passage into Jackson. Sloane had seen people come and go from their small town before–travelers from all around looking for somewhere safe for respite and to reup on their stores. The community of Jackson was still a well kept secret, but word of it as an outpost had been passed between trusted groups of nomads. But this group was much larger than usual. And more diverse too. Different people from all walks of life, young and old, filtered into the town. 

“Good golly,” Sloane huffed as she dipped her chin to Tommy. “I reckon there’s at least fifty of em.” 

Tommy nodded before correcting her. “Seventy four.” 

Sloane frowned at the number as she kept her eyes trained on them. Their faces were slackened, dirty, and utterly exhausted. She was sure that she probably didn’t look much better when she first made it to Jackson with Joel. Sloane would never forget the icy biting wind at her skin nor the panic in her throat when Maria and her group first rode up on them on that winter’s day. Sloane had thought that surely it was the end, whereas it was really only the beginning–of everything. 

“And you’re sure they ain’t gonna–” Sloane began in a hushed, protective voice. 

“You know better than anyone that we can’t never be sure bout nothin, Savage,” Tommy reminded her with a thin-lipped look. “All that to say, I’m pretty confident. Wouldn’t make sense riskin the lives of their more vulnerable population to try anythin funny.” 

“Yeah,” Sloane agreed. She had always been a wary and suspicious person, but becoming a mother increased that tenfold. If she’d seen this group say, a year or so ago, she would’ve been more parts excited and less parts anxious. She chewed on her lip as she watched. 

“Look, you and I are in the same boat,” Tommy replied lowly in a whisper, the sounds of it almost getting lost in the summer breeze. “I gotta family of my own to protect. Ain’t nothin we can’t handle. And if it comes down to it, we’ll deal with it. Alright, Savage?” 

Sloane inhaled, keeping the air in her chest, before releasing it. She squeezed Tommy on the shoulder and gave him a thankful smile. “Alright, Tommy.” 

Tommy gave her an encouraging nod as the corners of his lips tugged up into a smile. “Now, go awn and see what good stuff’s for trade fore it’s gone.” 

The town of Jackson was always accommodating to its guests by giving them free reign of its amenities and the safety that its walls provided. They were given an allotted space to set up their camps, and if anyone was interested in becoming a part of the community, they were more than welcome to take that up with Maria. Normally, however, it was treated as a checkpoint for them to pass through to their next destination. 

Sloane’s cowboy boots kicked up dust as she walked down the street. The travellers had already begun laying out blankets of their wares, signaling to townsfolk that they were willing and open to trade. The horse-tamer watched as a woman cradling a baby to her chest dug into a backpack and laid its contents out before her. Sloane cocked her head, letting her mind wander with the idea that this could’ve been her fate had she not found Jackson. Part of her wondered if the woman would stay or go. The woman’s bright jade eyes caught her staring, and Sloane gave her a sheepish smile and polite nod of her head. 

The woman held her gaze and waved her over. “You can come over, you know. I don’t bite.” 

Sloane could feel her dimpled cheeks grow flush with heat. She cleared her throat and approached her. “Apologies. Was just admirin your sweet baby there.” 

The woman looked down at the sleeping babe and looked up at Sloane again, her face was alight with a knowing smile. “How many do you have?” she asked. 

“Two. Twins,” Sloane admitted. “Bout two months old.”

“Wow, you’ve got your hands full then,” the woman replied with widened eyes. “This one here is about ten months old.” 

“Yeah, I reckon I do. Got some help though.” Sloane laughed lightly. She looked down at the quilted blanket and scanned for anything that interested her. It was mostly an array of handmade jewelry–beaded bracelets, twisted metal rings, and crystal necklaces. She spied a plastic bag off to the side that was one-fourth of the way full of small brown beans. Sloane’s mouth opened a touch as she pointed in the direction. “Is that?” 

The woman nodded as she rubbed her baby’s back. “Quite the welcomed sight, isn’t it?” 

Coffee beans. Sloane couldn’t remember the last time she’d last seen them in such a pure form. She’d seen the instant and powdered forms after the Outbreak, but never this. And then as the years went on, she stopped seeing it altogether really. America post-Outbreak left behind thousands of coffee-loving and caffeine-dependent adults. And Joel Miller had been one of them. When they lived in the Boston QZ, that was the one luxury that Joel never had a problem shelling out for. She smiled to herself as she recalled memories of her husband wrapping both of his large hands around his metallic thermos to gather its heat, eyes closed and serene as he inhaled the smell into his nostrils. He would take such small and measured sips too, revelling in it. 

“I’ll say.” Sloane expelled a gust of air from her chest as she scratched her head. “Where in the Sam Hill did you manage to find them?” 

“Well, we met some widower in California who was growing them. Practically gave them away for free to us. He was just happy to have some company. You know, to be around people,” the woman admitted with a small frown. 

“I don’t reckon you and I could come to a similar conclusion?” Sloane queried with a toothy and charming smile. She couldn’t help herself. She always had to at least try. 

The woman chortled so hard that she was worried that she woke her baby. She wagged her finger at Sloane. “You’re a nice woman, but you know how it is.”

“Yes, ma’am, I do,” Sloane agreed. I want them somethin fierce for Jo, Sloane thought. She relaxed her face so as not to appear desperate. “What you lookin to get for em?” 

The woman pursed her lips and thought. She grinned again, almost meekly this time. “I know that I should be thinking about practical things, but really, all I really want is dessert.” She licked her lips. “I’d kill for a cheesecake right now.” Her chest decompressed with a sigh. “Or some cookies.” 

Sloane wasn’t a baker herself, but she knew exactly the man for the job. “Cookies could work. What kind you reckon?” 

“Something light and sweet.”

Sloane nodded to herself. Good thing Ria and I planted those citrus trees. “What about like a…lemon cookie?” 

The trader’s jade eyes softened. “That sounds heavenly. Two dozen for the coffee beans.” 

Sloane squinted her eyes, her brows straightening. She couldn’t imagine the cow that Seth would have with her asking him to make her two dozen cookies. Naw, I’ll have to let him keep some. “Eighteen’s the best I can do.” 

The woman’s taps on her baby’s back slowed as she watched Sloane closely. She tried to steel herself to it when deep down she knew that she was a desperado for those coffee beans. “Fine, but they better be a generous size.” 

“How bout the size of my palm?” Sloane asked, holding her hand up. 

“Deal then.”

Sloane nearly stomped on the ground, for she was so excited. “Could you put them aside for me? I ain’t want no one to snipe my deal.” The woman nodded in understanding. “Thank you kindly. I’ll have em to you by sundown.” 

“Sloane, what did I tell you about rushing me!?” Seth scoffed as he set down the glass he was shining with an annoyed passion. “I thought your stint in manual labor taught you a lesson.” 

Sloane and Seth had struck deals for baked goods before, most notably for Joel’s birthday cake one year. She had to spend months covering shifts for him, and she was still giving his grandkids riding lessons to this day. Sloane acted like it was one of the worst things that happened to her, but she quite liked working the bar–a lot. Seth just didn’t need to know that. 

“C’mon old timer,” Sloane cocked her head with a smile. 

“You think a sack of lemons is going to be an even exchange?” he huffed. “And what, I get to keep six cookies? You’re sure generous.” 

Sloane put a hand to her temple. I shoulda known he wasn’t gonna make this easy. “I’ll do damn near anythin you want. Just name your price, Seth.” 

“Why do you want lemon cookies so badly?” he questioned.

“Cause why’s none of your damn business!” Sloane threw her hands in the air. Seth just quirked his brow. “Fine, there’s somethin that I want to get off a trader for Joel and I’s anniversary. Satisfied?”

“Must be something good if you’re coming to bother me,” Seth replied, a ghost of a smile on his face.

“Just tell me what you reckon, will you?” 

“The lemons and six months of you workin weekends for me.” 

“For not even two dozen cookies? You’re crazier than Hell.” Sloane barked a laugh as she rapped her knuckles against the counter. She knew better than to take the first deal. “Three months,” she wagered.

“It isn’t so much about the scarcity of the items, you know that. It’s all about you feeling like you can come bother me whenever it pleases you,” Seth grumbled as he slung the rag over his shoulder. “You have to do at least five month’s time for that.” 

Sloane shook her head. “Four. Just cause you wanna teach me a lesson don’t mean I gotta agree to somethin outrageous.” 

Seth’s steel blue eyes squinted–sometimes they were as unforgiving and cold as Wyoming winters. He cocked his head as if to assess her, but Sloane tried to stick to her guns and hold firm. A chill seemed to come over her as she stared back at him. “Fine, but only because it’s your anniversary, and I just so happen to love love.” 

Sloane snickered as a grin grew on her face. “I dunno what I was expectin you to say, but it surely wasn’t that.” 

“I very well may be an old coot as you so often call me, but I’ve been married for nearly forty years. I have a great respect for the covenant,” Seth explained with a wave of his hand. 

Seth was one of those people that she knew with certainty she was never going to figure out completely. His pleasant behavior was curious. Sloane wasn’t sure if he’d started smoking some of Eugene’s weed or maybe his wife gave it to him real good the night before, but she wasn’t going to question it. Sloane reached her hand across the bar to shake Seth’s. He gave it a long look before sighing and shaking it. “I’m gonna need em before sundown,” Sloane beamed. 

“You already talked me down. I’m not going to sit here and let you fucking rush me, Sloane.” Seth chided as he pointed a scolding finger at her. “They’ll be ready when they’re ready.”

Sloane leaned her head back and laughed. “Alright then. Mighty fine doin business with you. And thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Seth waved her away before resuming his previous task. 

Sloane turned on her heel and shook her head to herself. For all his hooting and hollering, she knew that they’d be ready by sundown like she’d asked. Seth just liked to play the role of an old and miserable man. And while that was true some of the time, he was someone who self-admittedly loved love. All bark no bite with that old coot.

Sloane picked up the cookies before sundown, and as she put her hand under the plate, they were still warm. The lemony sweetness hit her nose even through its wrapping, and it was enough to make her mouth water. She almost had mind to ask Seth for one of his leftovers, but she decided that she didn’t want to hear his bleating. You already pushed the envelope as far as you could, Slo. 

The vendors had stayed hunkered down in their spots even hours later. The others began settling themselves into their tents as they unbundled their bed rolls. The twinkle lights strewn across the streets began to illuminate as if they inherently knew that night would soon be upon them. Sloane approached the same woman from earlier, but now she was reading a book. She took a peek at the book’s cover finding the words, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. 

“Any good?” Sloane questioned in greeting. “If I reckon right, I was supposed to read that in high school. Don’t remember it any though cause I probably cheated off the person in front of me come test time.” 

The woman closed the book and put it in her lap. “It’s Shakespeare. Of course it’s good!” She gave Sloane an amused smile. “And I was the kid that kids like you cheated off of. I’d finish a book as soon as it was assigned.”

Sloane laughed lightly. She never was good in school–mainly because she didn’t try. She was always focused on cheerleading, barrel-racing, partying, and Todd. When her Ma asked her why she didn’t want to go to college, Sloane remembered saying something like, “My major is life, and you ain’t gotta go to school to pass them exams. Just gotta live.” Her Ma was of course furious, but Sloane was too idealistic and headstrong to care at the time. 

“Probably so,” Sloane agreed. She handed the woman the cookies. “Here you are. Just like we said.” 

The woman didn’t waste any time before tucking into one of the cookies. She took a bite, and her eyes sank shut as she chewed it. Sloane watched with raised brows. “Pass quality control?” she asked. 

The woman nodded as she covered her mouth. She finished chewing and said, “Ooooh yeah.” 

Sloane was glad to hear it because she couldn’t exactly request a refund from Seth. When she had the bag of coffee beans in her hand, she opened it and smelled them. Sloane felt like the woman eating the cookie as she closed her eyes too. It was always a wonder to her how something so simple as a smell could encapsulate so many different memories across the span of so many years. But the ones at the forefront of her brain were the ones involving Joel and his metal thermos of coffee.

Sloane sealed the bag and shook it. “Pleasure doin business with ya.”

Sloane stood on the front porch and touched the bag of coffee beans in one of her jean pockets. On her walk home, she’d compulsively checked for fear of them getting lost. I ain’t just sign my weekends away to Seth for nothin. Her anxieties were assuaged as she felt them. Sloane looked on to their street, seeing how grass, trees, and flowers alike sprang from the ground–lush and plentiful. The weather was pleasant and moderate with a gentle breeze that tickled the wooden windchimes that Joel had made. Sloane took her boots off and kicked them beside the door before pushing her way inside. 

Sloane’s head moved on a swivel as she tried to locate Joel. “Yoooohooo,” she called through cupped hands. 

She heard a heavy pair of footsteps and Joel’s thin-lipped face appeared. He put a cautionary finger to his mouth and whispered, “Hush now, will you? I just got them two jokers to go to bed and here you are hollerin!”

“Hollerin? Who’s hollerin?” Sloane asked with a quirked brow.

“You was, little savage,” Joel chided. “Now quit or else you gone have to soothe their fussin.” 

Sloane knew she’d come in hot, but she’d hardly been hollering. Instead of arguing, however, she put one of her hands on his barrel chest and drew closer to him. The corner of her lip tugged up as she looked at him. “Sorry,” she teased. “I’m just excited is all cause I got you a little somethin somethin.” 

Joel gave her a warm chuckle. He grabbed her hips and pulled her into him. “I see a little somethin somethin right here.” His brown eyes danced with amusement, his previous annoyance dissolving into the ether. 

Sloane gave him a soft swat on the chest. “Noooo,” she drawled. “Not that. Honest to God, I’m surprised you ain’t sniffed it out yet.” 

Joel pursed his lips. “Hmm, so it’s somethin that I can smell?” He put his nose in the crook of her neck and inhaled. Sloane shivered as his mustache hair tickled her skin. “But you smell mighty fine to me. Sure it ain’t you?”

“Close your eyes.”

“I’d rather not,” he balked as his nose continued to graze over her. “Quit your games and just jump in my arms so we can get to it.” 

Sloane breathed in the closeness, and although she wanted to bask in it, she stepped back. She raised her blonde brows. “C’mon. Close your eyes and hold out your hand.” Joel let out something akin to a mournful sigh and did as she asked. Sloane dug into her pocket and placed it in his palm. 

His fingers felt around the bag to inspect it, and he paused. “If this is what I think it is…” 

“Ain’t no way that you know,” Sloane mused as she crossed her arms. “If you so damn smart then guess ‘fore you open your eyes.” 

“Coffee beans,” Joel affirmed with a dip of his chin. “And if it ain’t I reckon I might cry.”

“Unbelievable,” Sloane huffed a laugh. “You’re unbelievable. Might as well take a look now.”

Joel opened his eyes, and his mouth fixed into a toothy smile. He shook the bag. “Woooowee! I knew it!” He opened the bag and inhaled just as Sloane had. “Golly, how did you find this?”

“One of them transients was tradin it,” Sloane admitted proudly. “So? What do you think?”

“What do I think?” he guffawed as he gave it another whiff. “I reckon I can’t believe my eyes! I just hope you didn’t have to sell your soul or one of our babies to get it cause Lord knows this stuff ain’t come cheap.” 

Sloane nodded in agreement. “Honestly? The women just wanted a dozen and a half lemon cookies. The real one I’m indebted to is Seth.”

“Weekend bar duty then huh?” Joel asked. 

“Yeah, four months, but honestly still ain’t a bad deal.” 

“As much as I wanna stand here and tell you thanks five ways till Sunday, I really wanna go and fix me a cup,” Joel said as he seemed to bob up and down on his feet.

“No need,” Sloane laughed. “Go awn then.” 

Once some of the beans were grinded and filtered out of the hot water once it steeped, Joel held his face over the steaming cup of coffee as he held the mug with two large hands. He kept taking deep inhales through his aquiline nose, and Sloane watched quietly. Joel was completely and utterly serene, and that look alone made all the trouble worth it. Once he finally opened his eyes he told her, “My mouth’s fuckin waterin. I know well to wait so as not to burn my mouth but…”

“Proceed at your own risk.”

“Fuck it,” Joel chuckled softly as he pressed his lips to the brim of the mug. He took a small sip and clicked his tongue slightly. “Oh yeah, that’s hot.” He didn’t let it stop him as he took another small sip. His broad shoulders sank in the same serenity. “But so, so good.” 

“Happy early anniversary,” Sloane said as she cocked her head to admire him. “I know it’s still two or so weeks away, but I couldn’t wait. I was too excited.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Joel replied with a thankful bow of his head as he took another sip–a bigger one this time. “Black coffee. Nothin beats it.” 

If Sloane was thankful for one thing that came from the Outbreak that wasn’t her town or family, it would have to be how much it made her appreciate the little things. And not in a way that people used to sit on a porch swing on a lazy Sunday morning, but actually appreciating them with every cell in your body. Losing damn near everything and having to fight for scraps made Sloane realize just how much she’d taken for granted. Now she was giving coffee beans to her husband for their wedding anniversary when in the before days she’d have gotten him a set of gold clubs or a new power tool. But Joel was just as thrilled and appreciative. In some ways, the Outbreak had simplified things. So much shit just didn’t matter anymore. 

Joel set the mug down and came over to Sloane. He smooshed her face between his hands and kissed her all over. Sloane couldn’t help but giggle. “Happy early anniversary,” he echoed. “But just how am I gonna beat this?” 

Sloane held up a scolding finger. “You don’t! Let me have this one, Joel Miller! You always gotta one up me. From the barrel-racing course to the cribs to the guitar. You done more than enough.” 

His arms wrapped around her as he rested his head on her shoulder. “Alright, fine.”

“Take your time and finish your coffee, but when you’re done, let me jump your bones and we’ll call it fair and square.” 

Joel’s laugh warmed against her skin, and she nudged herself closer to him. “Yes ma’am,” he obliged. 

Chapter Text

July 11, 2013 Jackson, Wyoming

Sloane sat on the swinging stable door of Ruger’s stall while she watched him carefully grazing in an expanse of grass. When she’d first begun working with the stallion, he had an independent streak so fierce that she wondered if she’d ever be able to break him. It was an undertaking to learn Ruger’s trust, but now that Sloane had it, she wagered that it would never be broken. Her Pa had always told her that when a mustang gave itself to you, you were their person until the end of their days. There’d been plenty of horses throughout Sloane’s life, including Spice, but each one of them were entirely unique from the other as if their personalities were their own fingerprint. 

Ruger was most interesting because he was sleek, intentioned, and fast. The catch was, he only performed his best for Sloane. Even Joel struggled with him. Ruger would’ve made a phenomenal show horse once upon a time. Sloane knew from experience that such horses yearned to be challenged, and it had been some time since the horse-handler had given the stallion something to work for. Sloane had been so caught up with Joel and the kids, that her time with the horses was shorter than it once was upon coming to Jackson. 

Sloane let her feet swing as she thought, and she smiled to herself once she got an idea. She’d remembered the fast-paced, exhilarating environment of barrel racing and mounted shooting competitions. It was almost as if there was an electricity that thrummed in the air as contestants, announcers, horses, and crowd alike all hung together in suspension as each turn passed. Sloane would never forget the discordant arrangement of noises either: air horns, announcement chatter, neighing, cheers, and even the faint sound of her heart hammering in her chest waiting for her turn. Since Joel’s building of the course, Sloane had practiced show tricks and the barrel racing maneuvers with Ruger, and she wondered if it was time to let the stallion have his time in the spotlight. Who says you need a giant arena to put on a show? She thought to herself as she jumped down from her perch and made her way over to the Appaloosa. 

Sloane rubbed Ruger’s face in just the way that he liked. The horse nuzzled himself against her hand to soak it up, and Sloane laughed. “So listen, I’m thinkin that an attention whore such as yourself would downright love if you and I put on a lil show for everyone.” The Appaloosa gave her what sounded like an offended whinny. “I know it, I know it. Imma attention whore too, so we’ll both downright love it. I mean think about it, you can show everyone your tricks and how fast you are…”

Ruger gave her a playful nudge to the crook of her neck, and Sloane patted his side and nodded. “I knew you’d come round.”

Sloane looked up and saw Joel strolling over to them with his hands in the front pockets of his faded blue jeans. He wore a baby blue and navy raglan shirt with wood stain on it and a fraying baseball cap. It was her most favorite when he was nonchalant and a little messy in his work clothes because he was entirely unaware of how attractive he looked. Sloane leaned in to Ruger and whispered, “Golly, if that ain’t the most gorgeous man you ever seen, I dunno who is.” 

When Sloane didn’t see the twins, she scratched her head and began to open her mouth. Joel seemed to anticipate her question and answered by way of saying, “The jokers are with Maria for the mornin. She wants Benji to socialize.” He took his hands out of his pockets and put the word in air quotes as he gave her a silly face. 

“Well that’s real sweet, I reckon. Some cousin time will do em good.” 

“Just so,” Joel agreed as one of the corners of his lips quirked into a sly smile. He brought himself closer and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her into him. “Just finished repairin the stairs of the school, and I thought I’d come check on you.” 

“Is that right?” Sloane asked as she cocked her head, putting her hands on his chest. 

“Mhmm,” he replied lowly without opening his mouth as he leaned in to kiss her. 

Sloane ran her tongue along her teeth mischievously and turned her cheek. “Well good, cause I got lots to tell you.” 

“Not ‘fore you kiss me, you don't," Joel told her as he brushed her face with his nose. Sloane kept her cheek turned, but her lips parted as he glided across her skin. “You c’mere.” 

She faced him and pressed her lips against his so gently that she barely felt them. Joel grabbed her face in his hands and bit her bottom lip. “Always playin games, ain’t ya?” he goaded her. 

Sloane’s body instinctively pressed up against his, and Joel’s lips claimed ownership over hers. They were slow, sure, yet forceful like he had all the time in the world to remind her that she belonged to him. Sloane never forgot; she just revelled in making him work for it. Sloane moaned into the kiss, and Joel pulled away and began kissing the apples of her cheek softly. 

“But I always win,” he stated as he playfully flicked under her chin with his forefinger. He moved his hands to her backside and rubbed it, cupping the cheeks easily. “Now what was so important, little savage?”

Sloane leaned up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing a few more pecks to his lips. “Ruger and I decided that we’re gonna put on a show so that everyone can see what he’s made of.”

A smile immediately smeared on Joel’s face before he hugged her to him. “Well hot diggity! What kinda stuff are ya’ll gonna do?” 

“Barrel racin of course, but I’ve been workin on somethin special that I ain’t shown you.” She pulled away from him and grabbed Ruger’s lead. Sloane waved a hand to Joel. “C’mon.” 

Once they made it inside the course enclosure, Joel watched Sloane and Ruger as he sat on top of the fence, his legs resting on one of the rungs. Sloane kicked off her shoes and peeled off her socks. She threw them over to the fence, and Joel pulled a funny face but didn’t say a thing. Sloane removed Ruger’s saddle and gear, opting to set it down beside her boots.

“You ridin bareback?” Joel asked with a cocked head. 

“You’ll see,” Sloane replied with a toothy grin. She stood in front of Ruger and commanded, “Up.” The Appaloosa raised one of his hooves, and Sloane’s bare foot met it and used it as leverage as she swung herself atop the horse. 

Sloane brought her legs up as if taking on a meditative position. She moved them so that her knees were tucked under her as she extended her hands above her head. Inch by inch, she slowly raised herself in the air until she was finally standing on Ruger’s back, her bare feet feeling his silky coat under them. Sloane held her arms out in a ‘T’ position so as to keep her balance. 

“Just what in the fresh Hell do you reckon you’re doin!?” Joel protested from the sidelines. “Get down ‘fore you break your neck!” 

Sloane sighed to herself because she knew that had been coming on. She held her palm out to him to signal to just wait before he popped a blood vessel. Sloane heard Joel suck on his teeth impatiently, but otherwise he was quiet. “Slow, Rug,” Sloane said to the horse. And just like that, the Appaloosa began making ginger slow strides forward with Sloane standing on his back. 

A grin a mile wide grew across Sloane’s face. Joel’s was slack with worry, but when he saw her joy, his chest compressed as he took a deep breath. Joel was protective to a fault, but Sloane was wild to a fault. And they were both stubborn. 

Sloane nodded to herself and stretched her hands down to Ruger’s back. She pressed her palms flat against it as she kicked one foot in the air. The other foot followed as she wobbled slightly, but she found her balance as Ruger continued walking. Her braid flapped down and the blood rushed to her head as she did her handstand. She could barely make out her husband’s expression from her upside down vantage point. “Well!?” she called out with excitement. 

“It’s brilliant, baby, but you got me nervous as all get out!” he called back.

Sloane moved her hands, turning her body 90 degrees so that she faced outward instead of forward towards Ruger’s head. Sloane lowered her legs slowly, and she could feel the muscles in her arms flexing with effort. Once her bare feet felt his back again, Sloane raised her upper body. “Good boy,” Sloane praised Ruger. “Now stop.” 

Ruger obliged, and Sloane could feel her heart pump with adrenaline. “Watch this, Jo. We haven’t even got to the special most bestest part!” 

Joel rubbed his eyes. “Go head, but I ain’t wanna heart attack today, Slo. Get down.” 

“I am!” Sloane agreed as she still stood proudly on Ruger’s back. “Just not the normal way!” 

“Jesus H. Christ…” her husband sighed. 

Sloane gave herself a confident nod. It had been two weeks since she’d done the stunt, and she knew she’d never hear the end of it from Joel or Tristan if she busted her ass. Despite that, she continued anyway. “Still, Ruger,” Sloane reminded the horse. She leaned forward, tucking her arms in as she did a front flip off Ruger. When her feet met the dirty ground, she had tucked herself just enough so as to absorb the impact with her knees, but all the while, her feet were still shocked. 

Sloane held her chin up as she held her hands out. “TA-DA!” Joel gave her a round of applause, but she could tell by the way his face pinched that he was holding something else back. Sloane grinned as she walked over to him. “Go awn and say it.” 

“First off, you ought to be damned proud cause that was unlike anythin I ever seen before,” Joel replied. 

Sloane bowed her head in thanks. “Keep goin…”

“Maybe the routine could do without the flip, don’t ya think?” Joel queried with nervousness edging his voice as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, shit Slo, one wrong step and we’re gonna be rushin you to Doc Brown. You gave me more gray hair just by watchin that.” Sloane rubbed his arm and laughed. “No, I’m fuckin serious,” he told her as he took off his hat and rustled his wavy dark hair around. “Take a look.” 

Sloane leaned in and looked through his hair with her forefinger. She gave him a kiss on top of his head. “You ain’t got no more or no less. I know it’s cause you care, but you gotta let me take my hands off the reins and whoop a lil sometimes, Jo.” 

“There wasn’t even any reins for you to take your hands off of, darlin!” Joel protested as he pointed to the bareback Appaloosa. Sloane cocked her head and gave him a look. “I know it, I know it. It’s just hard. I mean it’s my job to look after you and ours.”

Sloane’s smile grew broader as she held a hand against her heart. She understood that his cravings for control were all for good reasons, and most of the time, she let him have it. But Sloane was never meant to play by the rules all the time. Sloane rubbed his bearded cheek. “And you do the best job, baby. But I’m keepin the flip.” 

Joel frowned but nodded in understanding. “I figured as much. Can you at least, I dunno, wear a helmet or somethin?”

Sloane patted him on the back. “We can talk bout it. C’mon, let’s go put Ruger up and spread the word.”

July 14, 2013 Jackson, Wyoming

There was only so much to do in Jackson, Wyoming in those days, so word of Sloane’s event spread like wildfire, and the residents came out for some entertainment. Sloane’s brown eyes scanned the humble but animated crowd as she waited with Ruger a few paces away from the course entrance. Tristan and her family were there, of course, as well as Tommy, Maria and Benji. There was Seth, Vanessa, and Astrid…all of these people she’d grown to love, and some she did not. 

But one of the faces that mattered most of all was a tanned, loving one with its natural mark of fretting–Joel. Sloane knew that he was probably going down the proverbial rabbit hole in his mind, but he was doing his best to show a brave face. A smile erupted on Sloane’s face when she saw the two cherubic faces that Joel was holding in his arms. Joel bopped them around as he pointed to the twin’s mom, and once they caught sight of her, they were nothing but gummy grins. Sloane waved at them and blew them kisses. Joel pretended to catch them and put them on each of their cheeks. 

Willy approached Sloane with a microphone. The boisterous but friendly man had a fondness for sports of all kinds, and often took it upon himself to be the de facto announcer for all the town’s sporting events–which was mainly just the children’s baseball team. He was wearing some sort of cowboy get-up himself, perhaps in observance of the event, complete with chaps, a tasseled shirt, and a cowboy hat. Sloane had never seen him in anything other than his daily “uniform” of double denim. Okay, now I truly seen everything, she thought to herself as she snickered.

“Well if it isn't our resident horse-handler, Sloane Savage,” Willy began, his naturally booming voice causing the microphone to squeak with feedback. Sloane covered one of the Appaloosa’s ears and one of her own as she grimaced at the sound. “Looks like it’s a beautiful day for some horse riding.” 

“God love it, who’s bright idea was it to give you a microphone? I reckon my ear drum is bleedin,” Sloane questioned, half teasing, half not. She still smiled all the same as she went on. “And that’s Sloane Miller to you.”

Willy’s eyes widened as he moved his mouth away from the microphone. “My apologies, folks. Tell us a little bit about what we’re gonna see you do today.” Despite taking himself back, the microphone squeaked again all the same. 

Sloane huffed a laugh and leaned a little into the microphone. “Some barrel racing, for certain, and then somethin special that I’ve been workin real hard with Ruger here on.” She gave the stallion’s head an affectionate rub. 

“There’s no doubt that you have star quality, but the question is, does Ruger?” Willy queried in some performative suspenseful tone. 

“Are you kiddin? He’s the real star, and he’s gonna show you. You just wait,” Sloane proclaimed with a dip of her chin. 

“Anything you’d like to add Ruger before we get started?” Willy asked the stallion, bringing the microphone close to his face.

The microphone squealed as Ruger sniffed it curiously. Seconds later, he began licking it and tried to put it in his mouth. “He’s fixin to eat that,” Sloane warned Willy as she pulled the reins taut. 

Willy held the saliva-covered mic away from his face and shuddered slightly. “I guess we’ll just translate that as no comment. Good luck out there you two.” 

The crowd laughed and clapped politely. There was a cheer here or there, but then she heard Joel’s brass-like voice call out, “Show ‘em how it’s done, Slo!”

Sloane turned her head to him, putting her fingers on the brim of her hat, and dipped it in his direction. She gave Ruger a few reassuring touches and said, “Just like we practiced, right?”

Ruger made a noise as if responding to her, “Yeah, yeah, I know.” 

When Willy called into the microphone and said, “Go!”, all it took was a slight jerk and booted tap at Ruger’s side before he took off into action. 

It had always been a curious thing to Sloane–barrel racing. It was something that was over in a matter of seconds, but each second seemed to stretch out for eternity for her when she was in it. Everything else faded away. There was no noise and no thoughts–only she and her horse moving as one as they performed something that was committed to muscle memory. 

Her late horse, Spice, was a mare that was always sure of foot. Ruger, on the other hand, had a sort of haphazard nimbleness that both scared and enthralled the horse-handler. The stallion’s raw power made it so that he could turn on a dime, and that was what set him apart from all the other horses. He had no reservations–only a competitive hyperfocus on the task at hand. There were times that Sloane had to hold onto him for dear life for risk of flying off the quick-footed Appaloosa. 

With the first barrel turn of the cloverleaf, Sloane’s body jerked to the side with such ferocity that would’ve probably given anybody else whiplash. It only made her face erupt into a gritting smile. Ruger cut the second barrel almost too sharply as the barrel teetered. “Go wide!” Sloane urged as they moved ahead to the last and final obstacle. 

The Appaloosa took Sloane’s instructions with stride and gave himself enough room to maneuver it with such a gracefulness that the horse-handler had never seen from the stallion. Ruger was normally so reckless, but what he’d just done could only be described as practiced. 

“GO AWN!” Sloane exclaimed as they finally made it to Ruger’s favorite part–the all out sprint to the gate. The front pieces of Sloane’s hair flapped in her face as they went.

Once they made it back to the entrance, Ruger did a gentle turnabout as if to show himself off to the crowd. It wasn’t until then that the world came alive for Sloane again, becoming cognizant of its heat and noise. 

Willy seemed to waddle over to her as he brought the mic back up to his mouth, “Tommy there took your time. Any guesses on what it was, Sloane?”

Sloane took a deep inhale as if breathless. Ruger had done all of the work, and yet, her passionate dedication to the craft had taken something out of her. The horse-handler gestured vaguely with her hand. “Beats me, Willy. If I had to take a shot in the dark gaugin the smaller size of the course, I’d reckon, I dunno…17 seconds flat?”

Willy turned to Tommy with a dramatic flair and called out, “What’ve you got?” 

Tommy cupped his hands to his mouth to extend the sound. “15.2!” he exclaimed.

“Well I’ll be damned!” Sloane whooped as her facial muscles showcased her pleasant surprise. “That’s a helluva lotta sugar cubes and apples for you then, Rug.”

They transitioned into the final part of Sloane’s performance. The crowd chittered with curiosity as they watched Sloane throw her shoes, socks, hat, and Ruger’s saddle to the side. Before she instructed Ruger to help her up, Sloane threw one last look at Joel. His trepidation was still evident, but he gave her a wink and a nod. And that reassurance in and of itself was enough to make the, at times feral, horse-tamer feel even more bulletproof. 

The routine was more or less the same to what she’d shown Joel. Sloane added a few flairs to make it a little more interesting. When she was doing her handstand, she opted to open her legs parallel as if doing a split in mid-air. Her body wavered from atop the horse, but she tried to hold herself as steady as possible. During her days of cheerleading, Sloane would’ve been as still as a statue. But that seemed like another lifetime and body entirely. When Ruger stilled, Sloane braced herself and leapt forward into her front flip. Her bare feet stung against the sandy ground of the course, seeming to catch the impact a little more than last time, but she’d completed it without busting herself. 

With her hands raised in the air, she looked at her little family again. Joel was clapping Sutton’s hands while Tommy was clapping Sawyer’s, and the sight made Sloane feel like the richest person alive. 

Once it was all over, a few people came up to her and chatted, citing how they didn’t know she could do that or thanking her for the entertainment. Sloane had done it for fun and to give enrichment to Ruger, yes, but the main reason was because she wanted to prove to herself that she could still do it. Upon finding out that she could, it restored a bit of confidence in herself that had been lost during her months spent being treated as a breakable piece of glassware.

Sloane walked over to her family, and before saying anything, she held her hands out for her babies. Joel handed Sutton over without question, but the mother waved her hand again for the other. 

As Joel obliged and handed Sawyer over to her too, he said, “You ain’t gonna be able to do that much longer judgin by how sturdy these jokers are gettin.” 

Sloane pressed small kisses all over the twins’ cheeks, and their contagious giggles made her chuckle too. “I know it,” she lamented to Joel. She addressed the twins again, “What did ya’ll think of your Ma?” 

Sutton’s head bobbled as she brought her mouth to Sloane’s cheek, her gums closing around the flesh as if the baby was trying to give her a kiss. Sawyer’s fingers tugged at Sloane’s hair. “Oooh thank you, button,” Sloane cooed. She grabbed her hair back from Sawyer. “Son, I can’t wait for the day you stop doin that.” Sawyer giggled. “So excited,” Sloane reiterated in a soft, animated voice.

“So the cowgirl finally puts her money where her mouth is,” Tommy jested. 

“Oh, please!” Sloane huffed as she set a baby on either hip. “As if wrangling mustangs wasn’t enough?”

“Just you always talked about bein some hotshot barrel racer. I was beginnin to think you was lyin,” the youngest Miller brother teased again. 

“I’d like to see you try,” Sloane bantered back. 

“That front flip caught me by surprise!” Maria exclaimed as she clapped her on the shoulder. “My heart was nearly in my stomach.” 

“Don’t I know it,” Joel grumbled to himself. “You landed on your feet too much, didn’t you?”

“A lil bit,” Sloane shrugged it off. She moved her toes slightly, and they were sore. 

“A lil bit? Then why’s your big toe blowin up like a balloon?” 

Sloane looked down, and her eyes widened at the sight. The appendage was red, angry, and swelling. “Goddamnit,” Sloane sighed. 

“Told you that you needed to flex your knees more,” Joel scolded. 

“That’s exactly right,” Tristan observed as she and her family came over. Sloane’s niece and nephew gave her a quick hug as their mother continued talking. “I knew it was a sprain as soon as you landed.” 

“Okay geniuses,” Sloane folded. “I’ll let you two fuss over me once we all grab a bite to eat at home. Who’s comin?” The Millers and Greens murmured their confirmation. “Well alright then. Let’s go,” Sloane said as she began walking, trying to hide the discomfort in her steps. 

“Joel…” Tristan observed as she pointed to Sloane’s slight limp. 

Joel nodded. Vincent and Tristan took their niece and nephew from Sloane’s arms, and in one quick motion, Sloane was scooped up into her husband’s. 

“I can walk just fine,” she retorted.

“You stubborn as sin, you know that, right?” Joel teased as he adjusted her weight more evenly in his muscular arms. 

“I can walk just fine.”

“I ain’t lettin you walk on a sprained toe, little savage,” Joel replied with a huff of a laugh. Sloane playfully rolled her eyes. “I’m mighty proud of you though,” he whispered in her ear as he pressed a kiss to the shell. The sentiment brought an immediate smile to Sloane’s face, and she nuzzled her head against his chest as Joel walked them home with their family. 

Chapter Text

September 3, 2013 Jackson, Wyoming

Wednesdays had become Sloane’s second favorite day. Her first favorite was Sundays–when Joel would wake up early and make breakfast, and the family would spend the whole day being lazy together–just the four of them. Wednesdays were an honorable mention too though because they were the days that she had entirely for herself; it was her off day from her assignments. It was a requirement for able adults in the community to make contributions within their skillset at least 4 days a week. Joel and Sloane worked jointly on patrol and supply runs, but they had their own individual endeavors too. 

While Sloane tended to the horses, Joel worked on maintaining preexisting construction and coming up with plans for new projects. Everyone had a job whether they were a doctor like Tristan or a cook like Seth. Much of what the civilized world had before the Outbreak, Jackson was able to model on a smaller scale with its police force, school, and hospital. To Sloane’s surprise, there even was a woman named Ms. Newburry who ran a daycare. The twins loved her to pieces, and they attended three days a week so that Sloane and Joel could help out. 

On this particular Wednesday, however, Sloane was twiddling her thumbs. The house just seemed too quiet. She was used to the incessant sounds of children and power tools. It wasn’t even 10 o’clock, and she’d already cleaned the house, did the laundry, and made a damn cobbler. 

As she leaned over the counter looking at the cooled dessert, she half-debated digging a spoon in there and eating the whole thing herself. With a groan, she turned around and leaned against it. “There you was, so excited to have a day to yourself, yet you’re sittin here like a bump on a log,” she huffed. She hugged her arms to herself and considered her options: Tristan and Joel were at work, her niece, nephew, and children were at school or daycare respectively…

Sloane got a wide smile on her face as she thought of Maria. There was a high chance that she’d be busy too with being the de-facto mayor of the town and all. Maria abhorred when Sloane called her that because she said that it sounded too formal, but that’s really what it was. She was the point person that everyone aired their grievances to, and she was the one that kept Jackson running in tip-top shape. 

Sloane opened the drawer for a clean kitchen towel. She wrapped it around the cobbler dish and thought to herself, Maybe I’ll be buggin her, but at least I come bearin gifts. She went to the door and grabbed her hat before stepping out into the morning air for the short walk across the street.

When Sloane made it to the front door, she let herself inside. She stood in the foyer and called out, “Ria, you home? It’s Sloane!” 

Maria emerged from the kitchen with a mug, still in her pajamas. She gave Sloane a warm smile and eyed the dish in her hand. “Morning! What have you got there?” 

Sloane let out a relieved exhale as she kicked off her boots. “Thank the Lord Almighty you’re home cause I was so damned bored that I was bout to watch paint dry that’s already dry.” She made her way to the kitchen and Maria followed after her. Sloane set the dish on the counter and pulled away the towel to unveil her surprise. “Ta-da! Peach cobbler from the peach tree we planted a while back. Proud to report that she’s been yieldin just so.” 

Maria chuckled and raised her brow, “My friend Sloane Miller made me dessert? It must be my birthday.” She leaned over to inspect it, and Sloane caught her frown slightly. 

“C’mon now, I know I ain’t the bakin type, but I reckoned it came out good! What’s wrong with it?” Sloane asked worriedly.

“It…” Maria’s brows furrowed as she struggled against her words. “Looks…good!” 

“Give it to me straight,” Sloane gestured her hand to herself. “I can take it.” 

Maria grinned sheepishly and shrugged. Sloane appreciated that her friend always tried to spare hurting her feelings when it came to things she was proud of, but it was a good thing Maria didn’t lie often. Because she was godawful at it. Maria pointed to the outer edge of the cobbler. “You charred it pretty good, didn’t you?” 

Sloane nodded to herself and smiled. “Oh, that? C’mon now that’s golden brown.” 

“Golden brown!?” Maria chortled as she put her hand on Sloane’s. “I love you, but that’s burnt black!” 

Sloane joined in her laughter and placed the towel back over the dish. “Alright, maybe we forego the cobbler. I just wanted an excuse to come see you.” 

“Don’t be stupid. You don’t need an excuse to come see me,” Maria replied as she patted her hand. 

“I know it, but I feel bad gettin in your business on account of you bein so busy with your mayor duties.” Maria opened her mouth to object, but Sloane corrected herself. “Sorry. Leadership duties. Which I don’t really see the fuckin difference, if I’m bein honest.” 

“There is too a difference!” Maria argued playfully. She did a little spin for Sloane and said, “It’s clear from what I’m wearing that I’m not busy either. Tommy’s with Joel and Benji’s with Ms. Newburry too.” 

Sloane looked up at her expectantly as she tapped her finger on the counter. “Sooo does that mean?” 

“No shit, Slo!” Maria agreed. “I’ve been meaning to ask you to do something together just you and I anyway. It can be a moms day off.” 

“Now we’re talkin!” Sloane exclaimed as she rubbed her hands together. “What do you reckon we should get into?”

“Well, I was going to try my hand at painting today if you’d like to join me? Doctor Brown thinks that I need more outlets for my stress.” 

Sloane squinted her eyes and grimaced. “Paintin…? I ain’t real artsy fartsy like that.”

Maria blew out a breath of air. “Me either.” She nudged Sloane with her elbow. “Let’s give it a go. We can be bad at it together.” 

“Alright, alright,” Sloane acquiesced. “So I will be watchin paint dry today, just with a friend. The day’s lookin up already.” 

Maria leaned her head back and bellowed a laugh. “Stupid.” 

Maria gathered two canvases that had been wiped clean with a coating of white paint along with assorted paints and brushes. With their supplies, she and Sloane headed to the living room. Sloane sat cross-legged on the couch and looked at the blank canvas. “Now what?” Sloane asked with a shrug. 

“What do you mean now what?” Maria teased with a raised brow. “Paint something. Whatever you want.” 

“Can’t you give me a prompt or somethin?” Sloane frowned. 

Maria clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. She then looked around the room for something to spark an idea. She pointed to a bookshelf in the corner that was decorated with trinkets. “How about that?”

“Boring!” Sloane countered. “And hard! I’m finger paintin level, not Picasso.” 

“Try something easy then like a flower,” Maria offered. 

Sloane buzzed her lips together and nodded. “I might can work with that. What bout you?”

“You’ll see,” Maria smiled with a flash of her brows. 

Sloane scratched her head as she tried to think of what to paint. She knew that no matter what she chose, it wasn’t going to be good. But Maria was right, some things were worth trying anyway for the Hell of it. Sloane decided that she would make an attempt to paint Maria. Since her peach cobbler had been a disaster, Sloane knew that she could at least make her laugh. 

The two friends chatted about what was going on in their lives. It had only been a few days since they’d seen each other, but Maria and Sloane always had something to talk about. Mostly, they liked to poke fun at their husbands or exchange harmless neighborhood gossip. Every so often, Sloane would sneak a peek at Maria to try to replicate her in the painting. 

“Did you hear Willy asked Helen to go steady with him?” Sloane questioned as she painted small brown circles for Maria’s eye. 

“Going steady? What are you from 1950?” Maria barked a laugh. 

“Y’know, I thought you’d be used to the way I speak now considerin you married a man who sounds like he eats red clay,” Sloane bantered back. 

“I’m more or less used to it, but not even he would say going steady. That’s just old folk speak!” Maria replied which earned another laugh from Sloane. “But get out! I didn’t think Willy had it in him.”

“I know it,” Sloane agreed. She put a finger to her chin. “Y’know what? I reckon I can see it. He could talk the hide off a cow, but he’s good people. Kind. Friendly.” 

“I was going to say I wonder what they talk about, but I doubt Helen’s able to get a word in edge-wise.” 

Sloane cocked her head and swiveled her brush around as she worked on painting Maria’s pajamas. It was a dainty blue floral, but Sloane admittedly was having a good time painting it even if her flowers looked more like blobs. “I know I was pokin fun, but maybe Doc Brown is onto somethin. This is rather relaxin.”

“I think so too,” Maria agreed from behind her canvas. “I guess the hardest part is not judging yourself for your abilities.” 

Sloane pursed her lips together. “Hmm,” she nodded her head in agreement. “Hadn’t thought of it that way.” 

They fell silent as they got lost in their painting. It was such a comfortable quiet that Sloane hadn’t even noticed they stopped talking. Once Sloane finished painting Maria, she made sure to add a pen and notebook to the picture since she loved writing so much. 

Some time passed, and Sloane had just put down her paint brush when Maria announced, “Alright, ready to show each other?”

Sloane nodded and turned her canvas. When she caught sight of Maria’s painting, Sloane doubled over in laughter. The two friends must’ve been telepathically reading each other’s minds because Sloane had been painting Maria while Maria had been painting Sloane. 

The painted version of Sloane had hair the color of hay, a tan cowboy hat that looked like a fishing hat, a blue flanneled shirt, and cowboy boots at the end of a long pair of legs. Maria had even gone so far as adding a piece of wheat that was dangling out of Sloane's smiley-faced mouth like a cigarette. In the background, there was a black and white Zebra looking animal. Sloane pointed to it and exclaimed, “Holy smokes! That’s Ruger!” 

Maria looked down at her pajamas and up again at her poorly painted visage with a hearty laugh. “This is too funny!”

“Great minds think alike,” Sloane tapped the side of her head. “Although I reckon you were right about us bein bad at this together.” 

“Worse than bad,” Maria corrected. “This won’t get a place in MOMA, but it will get a place above my fireplace.” 

“Who’s Mona?” Sloane asked as her brows knitted together.

“No, like the Museum of Modern Art. You know, the one in New York City?”

Sloane shrugged. “I’ll take your word for it. My Maria masterpiece is goin in the hallway!” 

“I’m honored,” Maria beamed as she put a hand over her heart. “Let’s go eat some cobbler. We can just cut into the middle.” 

When they served up the cobbler, the middle was somehow underbaked whereas the outer edges were burnt. Maria assured Sloane that she’d teach her how to make one on the following Wednesday. Even with an inedible dessert and two crudely done paintings, the two friends had shared a day together that they wouldn’t soon forget. 

Chapter Text

December 21, 2013 Jackson, Wyoming

Sloane stood in front of the living room bay window, admiring how the sun’s rays made the icicles coming down from the roof shimmer like diamonds. She bobbed on her feet as she held Sutton and pointed it out. “Ain’t that just so pretty, button? Don’t let it fool you though. No, ma’am. Snow and ice only looks pretty when really it’s downright miserable.” Sloane buzzed her lips together and shivered to which her daughter giggled. “That’s right! Cold, cold, cold!” Sloane cooed. 

The front door opened and Sloane turned to find her husband red-nosed and huddling under his coat. When Sutton saw him, her face lit up like a Christmas tree, showing off her two little teeth on the bottom row. He took off his gloves and hung up his sherpa before greeting them, “Good mornin, button. How’re my girls?” Sutton reached her arms out for her father, and Joel scooped her up and swung her around in the air. 

Sloane cocked her head and smiled because she knew that man right there was Sutton’s favorite person in the entire world. Sutton loved her Ma just fine, but if her Pa was in the room, Sloane knew she was small potatoes compared to Joel. Joel leaned down and pressed a kiss to Sloane’s forehead before she answered, “Doin just fine. We folded some laundry and ate some breakfast. How’s the horses?”

“Oh, they’re fine. Ruger was pissed it was me this mornin and not you,” Joel chuckled. His dark brows furrowed as he looked around the room. “Where’s the boy?”

Sloane gestured a hand upstairs. “Where’d you think?”

“Lord Almighty, that boy can sleep,” Joel replied as he shook his head. “I reckon we shouldn’t be complainin, but damn.”

“Eats, shits, and sleeps just to sleep some more,” Sloane chortled. “That’s my son, alright.” 

“Ma’d be so lonely without you keepin her company, huh, Sutton girl?” Joel asked as he rubbed the baby’s cheek with his forefinger. Sutton cooed and Joel nodded. “That’s right. You look after her when Pa’s gone cause all your brother wants to do is nap.” 

“I ought to go check on him anyway,” Sloane offered.

“Don’t worry none, I got ‘em,” Joel replied. “Plus you gotta go get dressed anyhow.”

Sloane crossed her arms and grimaced. “I ain’t doin nothin other than what you’re lookin at. It’s in the 20’s right now.” 

“Why ain’t you just do as I ask, huh, little savage?” Joel looked down at her as he tilted her chin up. Sloane blinked slowly as a shiver ran down her spine. His thumbpad brushed against her lower lip. “Always givin me lip that I ain’t ask for,” he tutted.

“Maybe I wouldn’t if you told me where we was goin,” she husked, unable to thin the desperate adoration in her voice. 

“No,” he replied simply. “Go get dressed. And pick somethin warm.” 

Sloane gave him a long look–not for any other reason than wanting to look. The corner of his mouth tilted up into a smug smirk. Joel knew what he did to her, and he knew it well. She’d been an alpha her whole life, her stubbornness always pushing back at the smallest things. Because she could. But Joel: her husband, provider, and protector…was the only person she relished in giving way to. 

He tapped on her backside and urged, “Go awn.”

Her gaze oscillated between his lips and eyes a few times before she clicked her tongue. “Fine.”

Sloane made sure to put on layers that would still allow her to move if she had to. The thing she disdained so much about winter clothes was how they made her feel like the Michelin man in a straight jacket–all puffed up and nowhere to go. She wrapped a scarf around her neck and went to the twin’s room. Sutton was bundled up with a coat, mittens, a hat, and boots as she sat in a floor seat while Joel dressed Sawyer. 

“Uh uh,” Sloane shook her head with her hand on her hip. “You wanna bring ‘em out there?”

“Darlin, you act like they’re gonna fall out from a little cold weather,” Joel said as he zipped Sawyer’s coat up. When he saw Sloane’s sour face, he softened her up with a charming smile. “Y’know, I read somewhere once that the Swedes let their babies nap outside in cribs. They’re bundled up ‘n just fine. In fact, it’s s’pose to be good for their immunity or some shit.” 

Sloane’s face twisted in both confusion and delight. Joel wasn’t particularly bookish, but he often shared random tidbits of trivia. Sloane found his strange attempt at comforting her endearing. “Fine, but we’re wrappin them in blankets too.” She held out her arms for Sawyer. “Now, gimme.” 

Joel passed their child to Sloane, and she nuzzled his face against hers. Sawyer let out a long yawn. “Oooh, how dare we wake you, Duke.” 

The nickname had come after a series of sleepless nights as new parents led them to watching a marathon of John Wayne movies, and it just stuck. Sawyer laid his head on Sloane’s shoulder.

“Are you gonna be the quiet, stoic type or what, son?” Joel teased as he cocked his head. 

“Not with a sister like Sutton, he ain’t,” Sloane huffed.

As if on cue, Sutton took the pacifier from her mouth and threw it on the ground. She clapped her hands and laughed–a funny little wheeze. 

“You tell ‘em, girl,” Joel chuckled as he tickled her stomach. 

Once Joel roused their little family from the house, he left Sloane on the sidewalk holding the twins in a bundle of blankets. He told her that he’d be right back, and after ten chilling minutes, she’d begun tapping her booted foot. “Your Pa dragged us out here and for what?”

Sloane turned her head when she heard the unmistakable clop of horse hooves on pavement, even with it muffled a touch from the freshly-fallen snow. Joel waved from the back of a sleigh being driven by Willy and the sweet mare, Sugar.

Willy, clad in a Santa suit, pulled the sleigh out in front of them and declared, “Ho-ho-ho!”

Sloane put a gloved hand over her mouth and busted out laughing. “Golly, Willy,” she began, trying to catch her breath. “How’d Jo convince you to do this?”

“Willy here knows the importance of Christmas magic,” Joel interrupted as he clapped the sleigh-driver on the back. “And I mean, I did help him mend his fence this fall.” 

Willy nodded to corroborate. “It’s a damned good fence.” 

Joel leapt from the sleigh and gestured to it, “So what you say, little savage?”

As Joel stood there with a goofy, proud grin, it tugged at Sloane’s heart. Joel was told by his father at a young age that one day he’d be the man of the house and that he needed to take care of Tommy and his mother while his father was away at work. The eldest Miller son took that charge to heart and carried it with him, both as a guidepost and millstone, the whole of his life. It rooted itself so deeply within him that Joel had trouble being present because he was always worried what would come next. What other mountain would he have to climb? What other foe would he have to face? Sloane was happy to see that Joel was living in the moment, free and easy, then. It wasn’t a sight that came often, and she just felt blessed to be a part of it. 

“Hell yeah’s what I say. I mean look at this!” she replied.

Joel grabbed Sawyer in one arm and held out his free hand to Sloane. He helped her into the sleigh, and she smiled to herself to find that the seats had been lined with other blankets. He sat down beside her with a sigh, baby Sawyer in his arms. “Pretty awesome, right?” he asked.

“Pretty awesome’s the understatement of the year,” Sloane beamed as she snuggled Sutton closer to her chest. 

“Ya’ll ready?” Willy asked from over his shoulder.

Joel looked at Sloane and when she nodded, he replied, “Hit it!” 

Willy urged Sugar forward, and she responded with a leisurely pace. The mare was one of the most mellow and gentle horses in the whole of Jackson, but she liked to work just as much as her spicier barnmates like Ruger and Wesson. 

The afternoon sun helped bring the frigid morning up a few degrees. As they moseyed down the street, there were plenty of snow patches that weren’t yet tramped by footprints, making it look like a soft blanket of white over the paved neighborhood sidewalks. The trees were swathed too, their branches occasionally shedding the extra snow as if sprinkling fairy dust. 

“Look just there,” Joel pointed to Seth’s front yard. 

There was a buck, and judging by his size he wasn’t more than a year or two old. His antlers were small and awkward, and he was looking at them with morbid curiosity. 

“Wonder if we’re gonna catch Seth runnin him off bein all, Get off my lawn!” Sloane joked with a shit-eating grin. 

“Wouldn’t put it past him,” Joel agreed, his chuckle warm like sitting by a fireplace. 

Sloane slipped her free hand in her husband’s, and he brought it up to kiss. Sugar pushed them into the Main Street, and the family was greeted by passersby as they went about their days. Some children pointed confusedly at Willy, unsure if it was him or really Santa Claus, but Willy tried to drive it home with a jolly chuckle. The downtown stores were all decorated for the holidays, the least of all being The Watering Hole. Sloane was surprised that Maria even managed to convince Seth to hang so much as a wreath on the door. Multicolored lights hung across the street and wrapped down streetlights, although they wouldn’t be lit until the evening hour. Sloane still found herself admiring them, however, just by how neatly they were put up, showcasing her community’s dedication to creating holiday magic that had been lost to them just years before. 

Her most favorite part about Jackson Hole in winter was the large Christmas tree that stood proudly in the town square. It was the first thing that she’d really noticed when they arrived at Jackson, and its effect still wasn't lost on her. If she had to summarize what it meant to her in one word, it would be hope. It reminded her that life hadn’t ended when they thought it had, and that everything she’d done for survival had been worth it, one way or another. There was still more to be had, so to speak. 

Willy stopped the sleigh in front of the tree, and Joel stepped out with Sawyer. He helped Sloane out as Sutton watched everyone from under her purple pom-pom toboggan. Joel grabbed a gift bag and handed it to Sloane. 

“Open,” he told her. Sloane knew that he was chomping at the bit to watch her open it judging by his widened, expectant gaze. 

Sloane reached inside and pulled out two matching heart-shaped wooden ornaments. From what Joel had taught her about wood, she figured that by the light color of it, they were made out of some sort of pine or maple. She ran her finger along the edge and grinned. “I know this smooth finish anywhere. Did you make these?”

“Sure did,” Joel replied with a dip of his chin. “But you haven’t even gotten to the best part yet. Read ‘em.” 

She turned them over to find that they were engraved with the twin’s names–one for each of them. Under their respective names it said, “Baby’s first Christmas”. He’d carved the same stunning filigree details that he’d done on their cribs. She pressed them against her chest as she looked up at him, the corners of her mouth drooping. 

“What’s wrong?” Joel asked as he touched her arm, his smile fading. 

Her lashes fluttered and before she knew it, she was crying. Her tears weren’t heavy or hurried, but rather soft and slow. Sloane never was much of a crier, but after being with Joel, she seemed to do it at least once a month. Because he moved her time and time again with his declarations of love, both spoken and unspoken. 

“How’re you real?” Sloane sniffled. “I mean, how’d you think of stuff like this?”

Joel’s eyes softened when he realized what she meant. “I’m the way that I am cause you’re the way that you are. It takes a good love to make a grown man this damned corny.” 

Sloane laughed lightly and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “Yeah, you’re ruinin my edge,” she joked. She looked down at the ornaments again and rubbed their surface with her thumb, tracing the indentations. “I love ‘em. Just like everythin else you do.”

Sutton’s tiny hands grabbed for the ornaments, and Sloane held them out so the twins could see. “Lookie here at what your Pa made you, ya’ll.” 

Sutton smiled wide, making the pacifier in her mouth hang out of the side. She looked at Joel and clapped her hands. 

“You like ‘em too, button?” Joel asked with a toothy smile of his own. “You do? Well, I’m sure glad. You ought to tell your brother that cause he don’t give a shit.” 

Sloane looked at Sawyer and cackled. His little head was moving on a swivel as he watched the snow and the townspeople. “He sure don’t,” Sloane agreed. “He’s too busy bein nosey.” 

“He oughta be a cop or somethin when he grows up,” Joel huffed in disbelief. “No one’s secrets are safe round you, are they, son?

Sawyer looked briefly at Joel to acknowledge him then turned back away, making Sloane laugh again. “Duke’s just gatherin intel,” Sloane shrugged.

“So I was thinkin that we let the kids hang their ornaments on the tree,” Joel explained. “Every other family’s got some on it, but we haven’t. Not yet, anyway.” 

It would never cease to amaze Sloane how thoughtful Joel was. She remembered being told as a young girl by other women in her life that men didn’t notice things because of some horse shit like their brains weren’t wired like women’s were. As if they were biologically predisposed not to remember the little things or put in extra effort. And that always bugged Sloane because it was like women were making excuses just for their men not caring enough. Her Pa and Todd had proved that sentiment wrong by being wonderful, stand-up men, but Joel superseded them. There wasn’t a single thing that he didn’t remember nor a single thing that he didn’t notice. It’s just who he was. 

“That’s a great idea, baby,” she responded to him as she held out Sawyer’s.

When Joel dangled the ornament in front of Sawyer’s face, the child only looked up at his father with his almost nonexistent light brown brows furrowed. “Go awn, son,” Joel instructed him. “Take the ornament.”

Sawyer hit the ornament with his hand, sending it swaying back and forth. He moved around in Joel’s arms as he went to hit it again. The baby let out a pleased, squeaky inhale.

Joel huffed a laugh. “That ain’t what I meant.” He took Sawyer’s hand in his and held the ornament for them. He leaned the baby forward a bit to help him reach and placed it on one of the branches. Joel gave Sawyer a wide-eyed grin as he pointed to it. “Lookie there!” 

Sutton clapped, and Sloane praised them with her. “Yay, good job brother!”

A half-lipped smile showed on Sawyer’s face before turning his head to observe the environment again. Nothing could quite capture his interest than what was going on around him. 

Sloane carried Sutton around the perimeter of the tree and asked her, “Where we thinkin we should hang this, button?” 

The two of them settled on a spot, and Sloane helped her daughter place the ornament on the tree. Sutton clapped for herself, and Sloane couldn’t help but laugh. It seemed to be the child’s default reaction to anything that happened. 

Sloane walked back over to Joel and upon noticing the children’s pink faces she said, “We oughta get ‘em back inside.” 

Joel came closer and brushed the tip of his nose against hers. “If you cold, just say that, little savage,” he teased with a smirk. 

Sloane clicked her tongue and admitted through a shiver, “I am pretty cold.”

Joel tightened the scarf around her throat gingerly with one hand. “C’mon then and we’ll get Willy to take us home.”

“Thank you. For doin all this,” Sloane beamed. “We’re lucky to have you.” 

“Happy to do it,” Joel replied. “Honestly never thought somethin like this was possible after everythin.” 

The admission came clear and easy on his flushed rounded cheeks, and Sloane had never loved him more.

December 23, 2013 Jackson, Wyoming

“Thirteen inches, can you believe this shit?” Joel grumbled with a groan as he stabbed his shovel into a snow pile. When the metal met ice, there was an audible crunch. 

Jackson was known for its heavy snowfall, but it piled exceptionally high and early in the winter of 2013. So much so that Maria asked most residents to pause their work assignments to shovel it. The snow and cold were a given, but fierce winds had chapped Sloane’s face–even under her red bandana. 

Sloane propped her shovel against her leg as she flexed her gloved and numbing hands. She grimaced as another gale sent the snow dust flying, and she hunched under her coat to shield herself. “Outta the whole of Jackson,” Sloane’s voice came muffled. “Ain’t nobody gotta snow plow?”

“I wouldn’t fuckin be out her if we did,” the normally jovial Tommy huffed. 

“Come on you three,” Maria interjected, her voice as soft and sunny as a summer morning. “It isn’t that bad. It reminds me of childhood winters in Connecticut shoveling snow with my father.” 

“That’s real sweet ‘n all, but I doubt ya’ll was shovelin over a foot at a time,” Sloane teased.

“Sometimes,” Maria corrected her with a nodding grin.

Sloane’s face went slack with a deadpan glance. “In these tundra ass conditions? C’mon now.” 

“Fine, you got me,” Maria chuckled. “No, not in weather this cold.” 

“This the kind of shit that sucks the joy from your fuckin soul,” Joel shivered. 

“Yeah, why was winter and snow so fun as a kid?” Sloane asked no one in particular upon remembering her own childhood in upstate Pennsylvania. 

“Three things: no school, snowball fights, and all the cartoons we could watch,” Tommy counted out on his hand.

The corners of Sloane’s lips tugged up into a smile as she rubbed her hands together to chase some heated friction. “So why don’t we?” she asked with a cocked head. “Have a snowball fight?”

Ice split and gave way to the soft snow underneath as Joel continued working. “Cause I’m closer to 50 than I’m 30. Too damned old.” 

“Oh glory be, old man Miller,” Sloane exhaled, sending her warm breath into a cloud. “You’re just actin precious cause you’re cold. If the twins asked to have a snowball fight with their Pa, you’d do it.” 

Joel chortled as the shovel slammed down again. “Yeah, but I ain’t gotta worry bout that cause they ain’t even a year old. Plus, we gotta shovel two more driveways still. We got work to do.” 

“Snow’s still gonna be here when we done,” Tommy shrugged with a mischievous smile. 

“See! I knew you’d wanna do it!” Sloane pointed at Tommy. She gave Maria a look as if to ask her answer.

“Oh, I’m in,” Maria replied, flashing her eyebrows up-and-down. 

Sloane clapped her gloved hands before turning to Joel and looking at him expectantly. 

“If ya’ll wanted your ass kicked so badly, just say that,” Joel bragged as he threw the shovel down. It hit the snow with a dull thud. 

“Talk shit, get hit,” Tommy ribbed his older brother. “Game on.” 

“We playin everyone for themselves or teams?” Sloane queried.

“Maria and I need a rematch from the babysittin competition,” Tommy nodded smugly. 

Joel loosed a low whistle. “Big mistake. It’s just gonna end the exact same, but sure, let’s do it. I like to win just fine.” 

“You two are going to be eating your words and snow,” Maria joined in on the shit talking which earned her a proud wink from Tommy. 

Something about Sloane is that she had a fierce competitive streak. As soon as the mouthing off started, she was already devising her plan in her head. 

“Tommy, start your watch,” Sloane instructed him with a nod. “Ya’ll got three minutes to come up with your plan.”

“I like when you get that look in your eye,” Joel commented as he patted her butt. 

“What look?” Sloane asked, knowing full well what he meant.

“That cutthroat one when you wanna win somethin so damned bad,” he explained with a smirk. “Your eyes get all beady serious ‘n whatnot.” 

Sloane threw her head back and laughed. “Gee, thanks. Every woman loves to hear her eyes described as beady.” She tugged on the sleeve of his jacket. “Now c’mon, time’s a wastin.” 

“Oh,” he exhaled a shiver. “But I ‘specially like it when you’re bossy.” 

Despite rolling her eyes, Sloane couldn’t stop smiling underneath her bandana. Sometimes it took leading a stubborn horse like Joel to water for him to have fun, but once he ended up drinking it all in, he was an absolute riot. The eldest Miller brother wasn’t adverse to relaxation, he just needed a little encouragement every now and again. Deep down, he was as big a child as any of them. 

“Okay here’s what I reckon,” Sloane began, getting right down to business. “You should focus on snipin them while I try ‘n be all sneaky-like up close. I can’t attest to my accuracy, but I can do sneaky.” 

Joel dipped his chin. “I can hide behind that pile of snow while you move round. You’re quicker than I am anyway.” He squinted his eyes in contemplation. “I can worry bout makin the snowballs too. Shit, I could even make the a fort or somethin.” 

The construction gears turning in Joel’s head made Sloane chuckle. He couldn’t help himself when it came to thinking of ways to make things with his hands. “Snowballs–yes. Fort–might can. I dunno if we’ll need it yet. I reckon it depends how hot ‘n heavy they come in,” Sloane planned. 

Sloane could tell by the way that his lips became a thin line, he was displeased to hear about the snow fort. “Who knows, maybe they’ll play the long game ‘n we’ll need the snow fort,” she encouraged him. 

“I like the way you think, little savage,” Joel winked. “They ain’t even gonna know what hit ‘em.” 

“Time’s up!” Tommy announced with his hand in the air. 

Sloane and Joel exchanged knowing glances. The snowball fight was meant to be lighthearted, but they both had a competitive glint in their eyes. Sloane counted down from ten, and once she reached one, all four of them burst into action. 

Joel tucked himself behind the pile of snow and took to compacting snowballs between his large hands. He set them with a quickened finesse that surprised Sloane; by the time she made one, he’d made three. 

“Here’s what you’re gonna do,” Joel coached her as his eyes trained down on the task at hand. “Take as many as you can carry and move out. Come back, reload, repeat. You’re our eyes and ears.” 

Joel’s tone was rather militant for the game, but Sloane wholeheartedly agreed. She knew they were going to be the ones that took the twin’s little league games far too seriously when the time finally came. 

Sloane cradled snowballs in one arm and stole a peek over the pile. There was no way to see what Tommy and Maria were doing; they seemed to disappear into thin air. Sloane’s eyes scanned for them to no avail. “I ain’t know where they went,” she drawled from the corner of her mouth. 

Joel dipped his head to peer too. “So they goin stealth-mode, huh? Seems like they had us found out from get.”

Tommy knew Sloane well enough to guess that she would be the one to go gung-ho. She just couldn’t help herself. 

“So what we do now?” Sloane queried with squinted eyes. 

“Prove ‘em right and let ‘em think that they got the jump on us. I reckon you should check under the porch first,” Joel explained with a slow nod. 

The four of them had been shoveling Maria and Tommy’s driveway when the suggestion was made. I didn’t even think bout them havin home court advantage. Sloane delivered a curt nod in Joel’s direction before raising herself slowly. She had made up her mind that she was going to do her best to keep low to the ground. 

Sloane looked both ways before leaving the safety of the snow pile as if she were crossing the street. Her senses were on high alert for any indication of Tommy and Maria’s presence. She held a snowball, primed and ready in her hand. Upon hearing nothing out of the ordinary, Sloane shuffled diagonally across the snowy lawn and hid behind a large Red-oiser Dogwood. She would be able to be spotted behind the thin-branched bush, but it made an ideal spot for a transition point. The horse-tamer caught her husband’s eye and shook her head. Joel signaled her to move forward.

Sloane found herself repeating an old nursery rhyme to herself, “Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack jump over the candlestick.” She wasn’t sure what recess of her mind it had come from, but it brought a childish grin to her chapped face. Sloane snuggled against her scarf. She only had once chance to get it right because just like dodgeball, all it took was being hit by one snowball for her to be out of the game. Jump over the candlestick, and with that Sloane was off in another diagonal stride across the lawn. 

As if a sleeper cell, Maria revealed herself from under a pile of snow. It reminded Sloane of when she used to bury her little sister in the sand at the beach. Tommy had managed to camouflage his wife quickly and efficiently because Sloane had been none the wiser until she emerged.

“Jo! Ria’s on the lawn!” Sloane alerted him, her voice coming hoarse and fast.

Maria launched a snowball a little too low, and Sloane jumped up to avoid it. Maria’s element of surprise was gone, and Sloane had plans to outlast her, so she ran for cover under the porch stairs. Joel’s head emerged from the side of the snow pile, and he threw three shots that missed as Maria struggled to her feet.

As Maria sloughed off the layer of snow, Sloane took the opportunity to hit her target. She managed to hit Maria in the dead center of her back. 

“Woman down!” Maria groaned playfully as she fell to her knees.

“Y’errrrrr out!” Sloane gestured her hand as if she were an umpire. 

Amidst the excitement, Sloane didn’t realize the shuffling happening behind her until a figure flashed in her peripheral. 

“BEHIND YOU!” Joel warned her.

Sloane whirled around and saw Tommy wearing a maniacal grin as he made his way to her. She yelped and began running away in a zigzag, occasionally looking back to try to throw one of her snowballs. Tommy was quicker than Joel, but he still wasn’t quicker than Sloane. 

“It was a set up!” Sloane shrieked weakly as the cold filled her lungs. “We walked right into it!” 

“Ya’ll dirty little rats!” Joel whooped as he tried to snipe Tommy from his vantage point. There was one that came close to hitting the youngest Miller, however it missed. Joel struggled gauging where to throw it because of his moving target.

Out of snowballs and options, Sloane turned herself around and stood still in her tracks. This earned her a twisted look of confusion from Tommy as he stopped too. 

The corner of Tommy’s mouth turned up into a smug smirk as he proceeded to throw his snowball in the air and then catch it before throwing it again. “And just what’re you up to, Savage?”

Sloane gave him a wild look and began running again in pursuit of the makeshift snowfort. “Jo, now!” Sloane called as she went. 

The diversion had worked, but not how she’d meant it because just as she was running, she felt something cold and hard strike her leg. When she looked down, she saw the hardened ball sticking to her jeans. 

“I been hit!” Sloane yelled.

“You thought!” Tommy beamed as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Naw, you thought!” Joel corrected him as he leapt up and hit Tommy on the shoulder. 

The incredulous look on Tommy’s face as he struggled to conceptualize what had happened was enough to send Sloane hooting and hollering. 

Sloane ripped down her bandana so it hung around her neck. “Nah-nah-boo-boo!” she taunted as she made a silly face by sticking her tongue out and putting her thumbs to her ears and twisting her hands. 

Joel clapped his hands together and laughed, “LOOOOOSERS!”

“Now ya’ll are just bein downright childish,” Tommy huffed as he wiped his jacket with a gloved hand.

“Sorry, can’t hear you over us winnin!” Joel retorted with a matter-of-fact frankness. He clapped his hands together again once and waved Sloane over, “C’mere, darlin.”

Sloane jogged over to Joel and tackled him to the ground, and her husband landed with an OOF! But the low rumble of his laughter told her that she hadn’t hurt him. The self-satisfied, triumphant grin he wore made her feel like a kid again. So yeah, maybe they were being childish by making a big deal of winning a snowball fight, but Sloane thought there was something to be said about how important moments like that were amidst the drudgery that came with day-to-day life. 

Chapter Text

February 4, 2014 Jackson, Wyoming 

Sloane and Tristan sat at a small cafe table in Tristan’s kitchen. The light pouring in the window was harsh–the starkness of the sun on the late-winter snow making itself known. Tristan stirred honey into her tea, the heat wafting in the air like a wraith and the metallic spoon rhythmically clinking against the ceramic mug. Sutton slapped her hand against the tray, demanding more food. 

Tristan chuckled and shook her head as she rose from her seat. “I’m about done with you, miss Sutton. I’ve already filled that plate twice!” 

“She eats more than me! I’m a big kid, and she’s a baby!” Hollis commented as she concentrated on the game Operation with her tongue poking out of her mouth. Sloane’s niece  groaned when the game buzzed, indicating that her tweezers had touched the sensor. 

“Take a breather and stretch that hand. Steadiness is important for a doctor,” Tristan, a doctor herself, said. 

Sloane winked at Hollis before looking at Sawyer. His high chair was turned towards the window, and he serenely watched the outside as he ate his mashed berries and oatmeal. Her son had pitched a fit earlier when faced towards his family, but immediately calmed once sat in front of the window. All that boy needs is some food and a view.  

Sawyer was easy breezy and mild tempered, but he’d let his parents know when something was amiss. Sutton, on the other hand, was always babbling, clapping, and squealing about something. It was as if Sloane’s daughter was in a rush to speak. Hell, she still tried anyway. Sutton was mild too for the most part, but she was a clingy little thing. Every time her dad left her sight, she’d bawl her eyes out. Some mornings, Joel would have to sneak out of the house before Sutton noticed so as to not distress her. 

When Sutton saw her aunt bringing her more food, she seemed to cheer as she let out an amused squeal. As soon as it landed on her plate, she was already swiping it up with her greedy hands. 

“Go awn girl,” Sloane praised her daughter. “Get real strong now.”

It was a luxury for Sloane to have a pediatrician as a sister, for Tristan was able to give the twins exams and answer Sloane’s questions. Sloane was still a nervous new mother, but her panic came less frequently because Tristan assured her that the twins always passed with flying colors and were hitting all of their milestones. 

When the game buzzed again, Hollis threw the tweezers down on the table. “I’ve been trying to do that piece for ages now!” 

“Try, try, try again,” her mother reminded her. 

“Forget that,” Hollis huffed. “This is for the birds!” 

“Maybe you ought to take a break, Holly,” Sloane offered with a sympathetic smile as she rubbed her niece’s head. “Y’know, maybe you’re just thinkin bout it too hard with that giant brain of yours.” 

“Yeah, I think so Auntie Sloane,” Hollis sighed. “I should go play with Atta. She always seems to calm me down.” She hopped down from her seat and pointed at Sutton. “Because honestly, Sutton has been working my nerves with all her noises. I was trying to concentrate, after all.” 

Tristan and Sloane exchanged tight-lipped glances to try to keep from bursting out laughing. Sloane knew that Atta was Hollis’ anatomy doll, and it often soothed her to take Atta apart and put her back together when she was having a particularly hard time. Hollis was a mini-adult stuck in a child’s body, for she was incredibly self-aware, thoughtful, and oftentimes talked like she was grown. 

Sloane nodded in agreement. “Good idea. Nothin wrong with a little peace and quiet.” 

“Call me if you need anything,” Tristan told her daughter.

“Please don’t come to my room to bug me, Mom,” Hollis said with her hand on her hip. “I’d like to be alone.” 

When the child’s red hair disappeared from view, Sloane couldn’t help but snicker. It never ceased to amaze her how intelligent and well-spoken Tristan’s kids were, but damn, they said some funny things. 

“Golly, least you ain’t never gotta worry bout what’s on her mind. She’s a straight shooter, that one,” Sloane observed with a smirk. “But she’s so polite bout it too. How did ya’ll manage that?”

“Yeah, she’s something, alright,” Tristan agreed with what could only be described as a proud smile. “Luck mostly, I think. But we always take care to help them talk through their emotions with them, especially negative ones.” 

“Hmm, good to know,” Sloane mused as she tucked back that piece of information to save for later. It was an interesting thing to be learning so much from her younger sister, but Tristan had been a mother for over a decade, so she had a wealth of knowledge to share. 

“You know,” Tristan began as she sat herself closer to the table. “I had a dream about that day you taught me how to ride a horse last night. That’s one of my most vivid memories with you as kids. I remember especially how impatient you were getting because I couldn’t manage to get the hang of it.” Her younger sister chuckled and sighed. 

“You damn near fell off half a dozen times tryna get in that saddle,” Sloane recalled with nostalgia filling her voice. “But once you got the hang of it…” Sloane whistled. “You were takin off just fine.” 

“Never could ride as well as you though,” Tristan replied. 

“Wasn’t for lack of tryin,” Sloane countered with raised brows. “You always told Pa and I you had other things to do.” 

“And I did,” Tristan confirmed, her mouth tilting down slightly into a frown. “But I think mostly it’s because I was scared. Scared of the horse and scared of taking something from you.”

“What you mean?” Sloane asked with furrowed brows. This was news to her. 

“Riding was always your and Pa’s thing,” Tristan shrugged. It was as if suddenly, Tristan appeared before Sloane as if she were little again–red pigtails, bucket hat, and magnifying glass in her hand. 

“Honestly, we just reckoned that you didn’t like it.” Sloane clicked her tongue. “I’m real sorry. I’d no idea.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Tristan smiled genuinely. “Turns out that I ended up becoming really good at those other things I had to do.” 

Tristan always had been more interested in reading books and baking with their Ma when she was inside. But when she was outside, she would run around the yard capturing bugs, frogs, and other little critters. Hollis was like her mother in that way–inclined towards figuring out how things worked. Sloane would never forget how much Tristan flipped her lid when she opened up a chemistry set for her birthday. Tristan was right, however, her passions had developed and led her in the direction of medicine. 

“It’s not too late y’know,” Sloane mused with a cocked head. “To ride horses. We’ve got plenty to choose from.”

“I know,” Tristan nodded. “I just haven’t ridden once since our journey to Jackson. I don’t really think I’d be suited for it like you are.” 

There was a ghost of a smile on Tristan’s face, indicating some semblance of interest in the proposition. Sloane wasn’t sure why she did that–hide behind things or not say the entirety of what she meant. But the older sister had no problem pulling it out of her. 

“Aww, c’mon, Tris. It’s just like ridin a bike,” Sloane encouraged before putting her hands together as if she were praying. “I’ll be real nice ‘n patient this go-round, I swear it. We could do it right now!” 

Tristan’s smile grew a little wider, but still she went on, “I don’t know. I mean, who’s going to watch the babies?”

“Don’t worry bout that none.” Sloane waved her hand. “They’re bout damn near headin towards a food coma. I mean, just look at ‘em.” Sawyer’s head was already slumped on his shoulder, soft snores coming from him while Sutton’s lashes were fluttering as she was fighting sleep. “So we can go while they’re nappin. Vinny could keep an eye on ‘em when we're gone, couldn’t he?”

“Oh yeah, he wouldn’t mind. He loves the twins,” Tristan said, still somewhat meekly.

“Then what’s the problem?” Sloane teased as she squeezed Tristan’s shoulder.

“You mean it?” Tristan asked. “It wouldn’t be any trouble?”

“Of course I mean it,” Sloane nodded with certainty. “No trouble at all.” 

The Savage sisters made it to the stables, and Sloane greeted her equine friends. Ruger grew restless at the sight of Sloane, indicating that he was ready to be saddled up. Sloane fished an apologetic sugar cube out of her pocket and handed it off to him by way of saying, Not right now, bud. Ruger took the treat with a vexed huff. 

“Don’t you look at me like that,” Sloane told him as she rubbed his mane. “It can’t all be bout you all the time.” She lowered herself to his ear and whispered, “No matter how much you my favorite.” The horse-tamer looked over her shoulder and threw the mustang a smile before taking Tristan by her arm. 

Tristan scratched her head. “So, which one do you think would be patient with a novice like me?”

Sloane smirked. Their rodeo cowboy father would be rolling over in his grave to hear a Savage calling themselves a novice when it came to horses. But Tristan had always had a sense of trepidation when it came to the equine creatures, and now Sloane had an inkling why. Tristan had wanted to but counted herself out. 

“Oh, they’re all real great, but I think Old Beardy or Sugar’d be more your speed,” Sloane explained as they made their way to the back of the stables. “Why don’t we let you chit chat with them, and you decide?”

“Just pick for me, please? I mean, how will I know which one?” Tristan asked with a concerned frown. 

“Y’know what I reckon? You think too damned much, chiclet,” Sloane admitted as she patted Tristan’s back. “Some things you gotta feel with heart.”

Tristan’s shoulders slumped, but she gave an acquiescing nod. Sloane grabbed her sister’s hand and pressed sugar cubes into them before prompting her in front of Old Beardy’s stall. 

The stallion’s gaze had softened with time and age, and little gray hairs began to sprout up on his deep chestnut muzzle. Old Beardy had since retired from the exhaustive patrols, but he wasn’t quite old enough to be edged towards retirement completely. Sloane mostly opted to use Old Beardy to train the children of Jackson, for he was incredibly mellow and well-tempered. 

Tristan’s fist closed over the sugar cube, and she gave Sloane a hesitant look. The oldest Savage reached out her hand and stroked Old Beardy, and the horse nuzzled against her. “See?” Sloane asked. “Sweeter than a bomb pop in July.” 

Tristan gave her a half nod before opening her palm and putting her hand out. Sloane moved Tristan’s hand a little before Old Beardy gingerly took it from her hand. A small laugh escaped Tristan’s mouth and a smile erupted across her face. 

“Go awn and give him a scratch behind the ears,” Sloane whispered. “He loves that.” 

Tristan’s fingers flexed as if considering it, and her hand moved cautiously. Her forefinger stroked slowly and softly.

“Really scratch,” Sloane chuckled with a smirk. “I promise.” 

Tristan now scratched behind the horse’s ear with all her fingers as if he were a dog. Old Beardy gave her a thankful huff and leaned his head closer to her. Tristan’s bright smile returned, and she looked at Sloane for approval. 

“Told you so.” Sloane dipped her chin. 

“Can I?” Tristan asked as she pointed inside the stall.

“Go for it!” 

Sloane watched as her younger sister stood a little taller, growing more confident with each passing moment. Time would never cease to mystify Sloane. They were grown with husbands and children, but when Sloane looked at Tristan, all she could see was that ever-curious, smart aleck, and slightly annoying girl with the magnifying glass. Sloane’s heart seemed to swell, and she put a hand over her chest. 

Tristan spent the next few minutes chatting and petting Old Beardy before she turned to Sloane and told her with certainty, “Alright, he’s the one.” 

With a dip of her chin, Sloane sprang into action. She gathered up the riding supplies and moved through her instructional monologue of how to put it all on. Sloane was certain that Tristan knew most of it, but the youngest Savage didn’t interrupt; she just watched–her eyes like glowing pieces of aquamarine. It took a bit of patience and shifting her around, but Tristan looked down at Sloane from atop Old Beardy with a triumphant beam. 

Sloane let go of the lead once they made it inside the corral fence. She walked a few paces to the posts and climbed up its rungs to sit at the top. Sloane’s hand shaded her eyes from the sun as she observed. “Give ‘em a little tap on the side and click your tongue and he’ll go easy slow!” she called out. 

Tristan’s posture had gone rigid once Sloane left her side. Her fingers squeezed the reins as she replied, “A-aren’t you going to walk me around?”

“Uh-uh, you a Savage, chiclet, so go awn,” Sloane smirked. Her words were reminding her of her father and the way that he used to teach her–never coddling. She pursed her lips and cocked her head when she saw Tristan’s fingers squeeze tighter. Sloane realized what had worked for her had never worked for Tristan–the little girl that would burst into tears at a little tough love. An off-hands approach had always sent a self-assured Sloane jetting off into the sky, but it had a way of keeping a hesitant Tristan stuck on the runway. 

“Y’want me to come over there?” Sloane asked genuinely. “Cause I will. I just thought maybe you’d wanna try it first yourself.” 

“I know it’s stupid but–” 

Sloane jumped down from the fence immediately. Tristan’s sensitivity and cautiousness had once annoyed Sloane to no end, but maturity was allowing Sloane to see her in a different light. Sloane knew her little sister was a badass–just in a different way. 

“It ain’t stupid,” Sloane assured her as she grabbed the lead. “You ready?”

When Tristan nodded, Sloane began to walk them around the corral. She took care not to move too fast, and Old Beardy seemed to revel in the leisurely afternoon stroll as he gave them chuffed snorts. Sloane saw Tristan’s posture loosen, and it brought a smile to her face. 

An inexplicable feeling overcame Sloane–an ambivalent seeping of happiness and sadness simultaneously. The Savage Sisters had treasured memories together, but there had always been a disconnect between them, and Sloane wondered if that had been her fault for not recognizing that all she had to do was approach things in another way with her sister. Sloane resolved herself to believe once that maybe not all siblings were meant to be bonded tightly, but upon further reflection and experience, she’d gotten it all wrong. It was a mournful thing to think that maybe they could’ve had more moments like this earlier had Sloane only gotten out of her own way. Sloane wished that she could’ve been a better sister–more of a guiding post and confidant. What she’d once thought of as a millstone around her neck was really someone who could’ve been her built-in best friend from day dot. Instead of giving way to the guilt, however, she let herself be awash with the joy of second chances. The Savage sisters were given redemption at the end of the world to mend the rift between their inner children, and Sloane wasn’t going to let it pass her by. Not a second time. 

“I’m real glad you’re here,” Sloane admitted as her eyes grew misty. It wasn’t a lament but rather a love letter to the fact that they were here. Together. Sloane reached a hand out for Tristan’s, and her sister gave hers to her with a strange look. It wasn’t until she saw Sloane’s tears that Tristan realized. “You’re my best friend, Tristan, and I’m plum proud to be your sister.”

Tristan gave her a teary chuckle and squeezed her hand. “Right back at you, Sloane,” she told her as she shook her hand for emphasis. 

There was much more that the siblings could’ve said to each other, but they didn’t need to. For in that exchange they were able to portray everything–both said and unsaid. It was often easy for Sloane to let herself get dragged down by the currents of her past, but Tristan’s tethering touch kept her toes planted in the sands of the present. 

Sloane’s lip wobbled before morphing into a smile. She let her eyes glisten as she looked at Tristan. “How do you feel?” she asked. 

Tristan withdrew her hand and used it to pat Old Beardy as she sniffled. “I think we’re ready to fly solo now.” Tristan pointed her finger at Sloane. “You can let go of the rein, but just…”

“I’ll walk with you,” Sloane nodded as she let the rein fall. 

Tristan raised her chin and sighed. “Okay, good.” 

Sloane followed Tristan and Old Beardy quietly. After the second circling of the corral, Sloane could tell that the confidence was building within Tristan. 

“How do I tell him to go faster?” Tristan asked with a toothy smile. 

“Nudge him just so,” Sloane explained as she demonstrated the best she could. “And say walk on.” 

Tristan mimicked her, and when Old Beardy picked up the pace, she began laughing. 

“That’s it!” Sloane praised them with claps. “Look at you, you’re doin it!” 

“I guess I am, aren’t I?” Tristan beamed. 

How bout that, Pa? Sloane thought of her dad. Finally got her on that horse. 

Chapter Text

April 1st, 2014 Jackson, Wyoming

It was no mere April Fool’s joke no matter how badly Sloane had wanted it to be–the twins were turning one years old. A common piece of sage advice she’d heard from other parents was something like don’t blink because as soon as you do, they’ll be grown. And while they were far from grown, it sure felt like they were. Sloane took their word for it too, but she just hadn’t expected it to fly so damned quickly. 

The parents had planned a birthday party, and the theme was wildest ‘ones’ in the west. Sloane just couldn’t help herself. It seemed too perfect. Not only were they indeed in the west, but they had all the things that the theme could need at their disposal–horses, barn animals, and a love for cowboy hats and boots. 

The truly special thing about Jackson was that the community always seemed to turn out for events, no matter how small. Birthdays, graduations, weddings, or even just karaoke at the Watering Hole on Thursday nights; it didn’t matter. Everything was deemed worthy of celebrating at the alleged end of the world because they weren’t only celebrating the event or person, they were celebrating life. 

Sloane let the screen door slam behind her as she carried in the dessert tray from Seth. It was mostly just cookies and brownies, but most importantly, there were two smash cakes no larger than a fist for each of the birthday children. Normally Seth robbed her blind with favors in return for making desserts for her, but this time, he did it free of charge. Sloane had insisted on doing something for him, but he told her, “I’m not doing it for you or your husband anyhow. I’m doing it for the kids and the kids only.” 

This made Sloane chuckle because as much as Seth could put on a cold front icier than a Wyoming winter, he was a straight sucker when it came to children, especially his grandchildren. She wanted to tease him with something like, “You gettin fuckin soft in your old age, ain’t ya?” but she decided to leave well enough alone and take his generous offer in kind to which it was given. 

The sound prompted Joel to appear, and he grabbed the tray from Sloane before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Howdy there, partner,” he said as a way of greeting. There was a cheesy grin on his lips, and Sloane knew he thought himself clever.

As if by procession, Sutton and Sawyer crawled behind their father. When Sloane saw their matching blue jean and red flannel shirt outfits, she gasped. Sloane scooped the twins up and swayed them around, “Look at these little cowpokes!” 

“That ain’t even the best part,” Joel said as he leaned over to set the tray down. He picked up the paper mache cowboy hats that Hollis had made for her cousins and set them on their heads. 

Sloane chuckled at the sight. Hollis had gone so far as painting them, citing something about how just because the twins’ heads were too small for real hats, they should still have some of their own for their birthday. “Ya’ll are the darntootinest and cutest I ever did see. Yes, ya’ll are,” Sloane cooed. She turned to Joel and her lips vibrated with another laugh. “Golly, this is too funny.” While they were indeed cute, they did partly look ridiculous. 

“I know it. Y’know, can’t believe they’re practically teenagers now,” Joel joked. 

“Don’t remind me,” Sloane scowled. It turned into a frown as she fought the quivering of her lip at the mere mention of it. The older that they got meant the sooner that they wouldn’t need her like this anymore.

Joel cocked his head and rubbed her shoulder. “Hey, I’m only jokin.” 

Sloane let out a wet sigh. “It’s just…” She slumped her shoulders. “Seems like only yesterday. I mean, one? When in the fuck did that happen?”

“Today, apparently,” Joel countered with a smirking attempt to make her feel better. Sloane smiled despite her eye roll. Joel’s thumb brushed the phantom tears that were threatening to spring from her eyes at a moment's notice. “Don’t worry bout it none, alright? I mean Hell, we ain’t even got to the terrible two’s yet. You’ll really be wishin they were older then.” 

Sloane exhaled sharply and nodded because she knew that he was right despite her mournful feelings about it. Joel squeezed her shoulder once and firm before holding his hands out to grab one of them. Sloane shook her head and nuzzled them close to her as she muttered, “Naw, it’s okay. I wanna hold ‘em both right now.” 

“Alright, darlin,” Joel’s voice came low and gentle as he gave her an understanding look. 

—

The twins sat in high chairs side-by-side and tore apart their smash cakes. Sutton smacked her hands into it and flung it around as if she were playing in a puddle while her brother inspected his fingers and tasted them carefully. His eyes widened at the taste, and sooner than later, he was shoveling it into his mouth by the handful. Joel had been walking around the party with a polaroid taking pictures of everything and everyone so that they wouldn’t forget one moment. While Sloane was glad for it and would be even gladder for it in the future when they looked through photo albums, she was more inclined to take mental pictures in her mind. 

After socializing and giving each child a turn on Old Beardy around the corral, Sloane tucked herself away into a corner picnic table underneath a hulking pine tree. She looked into its canopy and followed it up, up, and up. Its branches reached so high and so far that it looked to almost hold the sky upright all on its very own. She closed her eyes to the sounds of children’s laughter and reminded herself that she was here and this was real. 

It was an important moment for the 37-year-old woman–maybe one of the most important of her life. Even before the Outbreak, she’d been convinced by herself and doctors too that this was something that would never happen for her. The stubborn horse-trainer tried and tried, insisting that they didn’t really know what they were talking about. But the oddest thing is, it had happened when she’d all but given up on the prospect altogether. There was something funny in the way God did this, she thought–how when you wanted something so badly and it was all you could think about that it didn’t happen, but when you finally let go and freefall, sometimes you’d be surprised…

And Sloane, if anything, was surprised by the way her life had turned out. Because here Sloane was at her children’s first birthday party. It wasn’t always rainbows and butterflies, but she wouldn’t have wanted it to be. Life was suffering, yes, but it was those in between points alongside suffering that made everything so damned worthwhile. She always tried to pay gratitude as much and as often as she could, but this time on that bench, she could feel it rattling her bones like some windchimes in a storm, and she was in awe of its song. 

“You always doggin me for bein corny.” Joel’s jovial tone pulled her from her thoughts. “But here you are damn near bout to fall out over a western-themed birthday party.”

Sloane chuckled and looked up at him. Even though he was only teasing, she felt the need to spell out that gratitude to him too, for he had such a vital part in all of it. “It’s so much more than that.” 

Joel heaved a sigh and sat down beside her, the weight of the bench groaning a little under his powerful body. He rapped on the table with his knuckle before sneaking a peek at their children being adored by their aunts and uncles. “Ain’t it just,” he said. He moved his hand to her thigh and rested it there. “It’s hard to sum it all up into words sometimes. Just how much more it is.” 

Sloane rested her hand on her husband’s as she said, “And I don’t reckon we’ll ever know how, darlin. But if one thing’s for certain and two thing’s for sure, I’m real glad to be wrapped up in it with you.” 

Joel adjusted the cowboy hat on her head and grinned before it fell slightly. “I was of the mind that my time had run out, y’know? Like all God’s goodness had already been spent on me. I had a good life ‘fore all this, and…” he sighed. “I dunno what I’m tryna say.”

“You don’t feel worthy of it sometimes,” Sloane interjected, her silver voice low and hushed as if it were some secret shared between the two of them. 

“Not by a long shot,” he exhaled a breath. “But for reason’s I don’t fuckin understand and won’t argue with, I was handed the winnin lottery ticket.” 

“Me too,” Sloane whispered as she put her hand on his cheek. 

It wasn’t something that she’d forgotten about, but she was reminded all over again why she’d been so drawn to Joel. There was no way not to, for their souls seemed to harmonize with each other, whether it be a dirge or victory song. There was an uncanny way that they could decode each other’s words, and maybe they’d been paired together to help untangle things that didn’t make sense on their lonesome. They needed each other to spool the thread again. 

Sloane leaned in and pressed her lips to his featherlight. Joel wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in closer. If they got any closer, well, they’d have been inside each other’s skins. His kisses had a way of enchanting her and reassuring her all at the same time. Calm, steady, and guiding. Before pulling away entirely, Joel pressed another kiss on the tip of her nose.

Sutton let out a happy screech suddenly, making them turn around. She was clapping her messy hands together as Maria painstakingly tried to clean them. Sloane and Joel looked at each other and busted out laughing. 

“Y’think them two are gonna sleep tonight?” Sloane asked once the wind had returned to her chest. “Or they gonna be hoppin off to Mars on all that sugar?”

“Y’wish, little savage. Them two jokers ain’t gonna sleep not one wink,” Joel replied with a shake of his head. 

Sloane gave him an agreeing chuckle, but the prospect didn’t bother her. She had a full night’s rest to look forward to once the kids were grown, but right now, she was going to try and soak up every moment with them like a sponge, chaos or otherwise. 

Chapter Text

April 10th, 2014 Jackson, Wyoming

Sloane knew that the day had been coming, and she tried to ignore it just as she did every year. Not out of malice or contempt, but for fear of bringing her back to a place that she had to fight with everything in her to get out of. It had been nine years since Todd died, and Sloane wished that time would work its steady hands on her so that she could observe the day with the adoring remembrance that it deserved. Sloane still talked to her late husband as if he were an angel watching over her and thought of him reverently, but she had never properly mourned him because there was just one part she couldn’t wrap her head around. It didn’t make sense to her that God had allowed her to keep on living, even when she tried to die, whereas Todd met his death so young and so suddenly. There were times that she wished that he’d gone on living instead of her, and if she’d been asked to switch places with him, she’d have done it. 

Before, anyway. Then came Joel and their town and their kids. Sloane was grateful now because she had so much more life left to live. There were still so many things that she wanted to do, see, and experience. She wanted to swallow all of life whole.  It just stung her heart so damned badly that Todd never got the chance. He got bit. He killed himself. The end. 

*****

Sloane awoke with a start. The cracking sound was familiar–a bang and boom she’d known the whole of her life. It was the percussion of guns. But it was almost as if she knew inherently, this unmistakable shot was different from the rest. It didn’t just clap through the sky like a bout of thunder, it raptured through her very chest and shattered her heart to pieces. 

Before she could orient herself, Sloane’s bare feet had already flown across the floor of their house, and she collided with the screen door, pushing it open. The five mile estate seat of the Savages was sprawling, but Sloane’s feet moved of their own volition. She was her own bloodhound, metaphorically sniffing the metallic tinge on the air. 

Her long legs carried her past the stables, the chicken coops, and the small one room building that once housed one of the ranch hands. The world was impossibly still like everything had stopped altogether. Perhaps it was her peerless focus and swimming head, but Sloane didn’t hear any brays, or neighs, or caws. That stillness wasn’t just foreboding, it was fearsome. Because it allowed Sloane to hear her heart thunder her ears. 

Sloane’s body led her towards the cow pasture, or perhaps it was some invisible string tugging her along. Her brown eyes squinted as she neared the fences, and what had begun as a speck, now grew larger and larger until it took on the visage of a person. A man. Sloane pumped her legs harder, and she ignored their protests and the way her chest heaved with hellfire. She had never run so fast in her life. 

Once she reached the enclosure, Sloane looked down at the mess of the person at her feet then back up at the cows. One of them seemed to tilt their head at her, just watching. Sloane shook her head and looked down again, and her eyes fluttered at the way the lush green grass splattered with gore and matter.

Sloane couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing. She blinked again and craned her head up to the sky. The dawn was pushing into day, and the horizon was dashed with red. Her Ma had told her once, “Red in the morning, sailor’s warning. Red at night, sailor’s delight.” Sloane had marvelled at such sunrises, admiring how they streaked and dipped over the Endless Mountains. But for the first time, she understood it. However, it wasn’t a mere warning, it was a promise. The red wasn’t brilliant. It was a hateful and violent red–the color of blood.

The bargaining had already begun. “Naw, this ain’t Todd,” she told herself. There was no way for Sloane to conceive that her tall blonde-haired husband, who she’d gone to bed with hours before, was now crumpled into a heap. She shook her head. She didn’t see any blonde hair. In fact, she didn’t see much of a head at all. Parts of it were blown to pieces, scattered around her like confetti. Sloane saw the shotgun beside the body and frowned. “How did this person get Todd’s gun?” she wondered. This person may have worn his favorite green flannel shirt and the boots that Sloane got him for Christmas, but it wasn’t her husband. Anything to convince herself. 

Sloane crouched down and dared to touch. Her body jerked back when she found that the body was still warm. Its skin still flushed slightly as if live’s blood still ran through its veins. Her bottom lip quivered because she’d been just moments too late. “It ain’t Todd.” She bared her teeth to herself. The person clutched something in their right hand, and Sloane reached down to inspect it. Her fingers flexed and grasped around splattered and crumbled paper. A rattling wheeze escaped her lungs once she realized that this person was wearing her husband’s wedding ring. 

Sloane immediately folded her hand in her game of philosophical poker against herself. She could no longer call her own bluff, not when she was being presented with cold hard facts. Sloane’s nose crinkled as she tried to keep her finger plugged in the dam of emotions. She opened the piece of paper and once she saw Todd’s neat, almost geometric looking cursive writing, she inhaled sharply as she felt a stabbing pain in her side. 

I got bit, Sloaney. I killed it, but not before it got me.  So I’m going to stare at the cows and watch

the sun come up. I already know you’re going to be mad as Hell, but I’ve come to terms with it. 

I’m going to close my eyes and think of you sleeping and warm in bed. I couldn’t do this if you were staring at me with those big brown eyes. I really couldn’t.

It tears me up that I’m leaving you here alone, but you can handle it. You’re meant for so much more, and you’re going to find it. Even after all this.

I’m glad to be loved by you, and I’m a better person for it. Know that loving you was the greatest accomplishment of my life.

Love always,

Todd

Sloane stared down at the writing, and it became a jumble of words that didn’t make sense anymore like it was in a different language. Hot tears slipped down her tanned cheeks and onto the paper, smudging the ink. Sloane furrowed her blonde brows and looked up to check if it was raining. It took her a long moment to realize that she’d begun crying. Sloane sank to her knees slowly. She propped her head on Todd’s chest and reached for his hand. As she spun his wedding ring between her fingers, she finally let out a yawping sob.

Thousands upon thousands of times they’d laid together like that, but no heart beat or laughter rose up to meet her ears. Sloane was left with her own desperate gasping cries. “Why would you–” she struggled to say. “Why would you do this to me?” Her face flooded, and she grimaced again as she clutched her chest. “I NEED you, Todd!” She shook her head wildly and tasted the saltiness in her mouth. “I can’t– I can’t handle it!”

Upon realizing that her words wouldn’t be met with a response like they always were, all there was left to do was cry. Sure, she was angry, but that was only secondary to the hammering aching in her chest. It was a persistent squeezing unlike anything she’d ever known almost as if her very soul was being strangled. And she was inclined to let it as she gasped for air herself between wails. 

*****

Sloane’s eyes flung open, and she clutched her chest at the phantom strangulation. It hadn’t been the first time that she’d relived that nightmare, and it wouldn’t be the last. She shot up from bed and blinked. She touched her hand to her face and realized that she’d begun crying while she slept. Sloane looked around the bedroom–her and Joel’s guitars propped against the wall, his sherpa draped across the rocker, and the photo of them on her nightstand. This wasn’t Pennsylvania, but the dream had felt so real like she was reliving it all over again. 

There was rustling in the bed beside her, and Joel’s voice was thick with sleep. “You alright, little savage?”

Sloane shook her head. Upon realizing that he needed an audible confirmation, she said in a small voice, “Naw. Today’s the day.”

Joel roused himself from bed because he knew what that meant. His bare back leaned against the headboard, and he interlocked her hand in his. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Sloane turned her head to face him, and his tanned face was slack and concerned. His thumb swiped the tears from her cheek, and she gave him a weary smile. His bottomless brown eyes eluded her once, but now she saw them with such clarity. Sloane clicked her tongue softly. “Y’know, I think I ought to talk to him. Go somewhere that I feel like I can reach him.” 

There had been a time when Sloane and Joel went back to her house in the Endless Mountains for supplies. While there, she visited Todd’s grave and laid her necklace with both of their wedding bands upon it. But she’d received little to no solace or comfort in that–just a near death encounter with a Clicker. It was because she’d been talking at Todd, out of anger, hurt, and confusion, and not to him. Sloane wanted to talk to him now. Those were two different things entirely. 

Joel’s eyes moved around her face, taking all of her in until he nodded. “Well, alright. I reckon that’s a good thing. We’ll drop the kids off with Tristan, and I’ll go with you.” 

Sloane lifted up his calloused hand to her mouth and kissed it. She leaned her cheek up against it and savored the way the warmth caressed her skin. “It’s somethin I gotta do myself, Jo,” Sloane whispered. “Don’t wanna hurt your feelings, but–”

Joel lifted her chin so that her eyes were on his again. “You do whatever you gotta do, Slo,” he told her. “Long as y’know I’ll be right here waitin for you. Always have, always will.” 

Another tear slipped past her cheek, and still she smiled. “I know that. I wanna fill him in on what’s happened. I’m sure he can see, but I’d like him to hear it from me too.”

“And you’ll promise to tell him hello for me?” Joel added, his gaze relaxed and genuine. 

His question swathed around her heart, and it swelled with the goodness of his words. Sloane’s tumultuous past had never given him pause because he’d come from one himself. Sloane and Joel were the same suit in a deck of cards, the same side on a coin…cut from the same cloth. “Yeah,” Sloane replied. “I promise.”

Joel’s dark brows furrowed. “Y’sure you ain’t want me to come with ya? I don’t mind none, and Tris would love to see the twins.”

“You’re downright sweet for sayin, and I love you for it. But I need to go at this alone.” 

“Alright, darlin, just checkin,” he understood. “I love you too, and you be careful out there.”

Sloane knew by the way his mouth tugged when he said this that he was struggling against being overprotective. He wanted so badly to go with her not only to make sure that she was okay emotionally, but physically too. Joel longed always to be by her side to keep her safe. He’d both said as much and shown it to her time and time again. 

“I’m fine,” she assured him with a squeeze of his hand. “And I’ll be fine.” 

“Okay,” he agreed.

With each rhythmic step of Ruger’s hooves, the horse-handler could feel them sinking a touch into the ground that was mushy from the thawing snow. The sky was hazy like a dream–wispy clouds streaking across the icy slateness. The day was warmer compared to the long Jackson winter, but Sloane figured that by the way the sky looked, they were due for one more fall. She didn’t have a destination in mind, nor did she lead Ruger. Sloane let herself be moved because when they came to the perfect spot, she’d know. 

A thought flitted into her mind, and she didn’t wince. Instead, she shook her head and chuckled. It was the time that Todd insisted on joining their town’s adult co-ed softball team. Todd had tried to convince Sloane to join, but she told him that she’d make a better cheerleader than teammate. On the night of his team’s first game, Todd was absolutely psyched to play. And as Sloane watched from a camping chair in the cool autumn air of their church’s back field, she saw the team come undone. Sloane snickered to herself as she ate peanuts, but every time Todd turned around to look at her, she made sure to give him an encouraging thumbs-up. 

Todd had always been athletic, but they were both finding out that softball was not in he or his team’s wheel house. For example, Todd and Mr. Barnelby ran right into each other and collided as they tried to catch a pop fly in the outfield. For all their trouble, they missed the ball and lost the game with a losing score of 11-1. The only run made was by Ms. Fisk, a 65-year-old post office clerk. Sloane couldn’t help but tease him all the way back home through fits of laughter. Todd replied by saying they’d have somehow done even worse had Sloane joined. And she couldn’t agree more. 

Sloane felt tears forming in the corner of her brown eyes, but she didn’t dare wipe them away. She was going to let them well if that’s what she had to do. She leaned her head up to the clouds and found herself saying, “We always was cuttin up, weren’t we?” 

Sloane hadn’t thought of that day since it happened. It was a singular moment in a vast sea of decades’ long memories shared with her late husband. She chuckled a bit to herself to find that on this day of all days was the first time that she’d remembered it. Sloane took it as a little love letter from Todd as she used one hand to press flat against her heart as the other held the reins. 

After an hour or two of wandering aimlessly and sorting through a proverbial shoebox of memories in her mind, Sloane found the spot. “Here, Rug,” she announced. 

The stallion listened and halted. Sloane swung herself down and glided her hand across his shiny Appaloosa coat by way of saying thanks. 

Gravel crunched under her steps as she walked beside a water embankment along a meandering stream. Sloane heard the long and high twitter of ospreys, and as she looked around she watched as a group of them circled above a few paces away. 

“You stay here now,” Sloane instructed Ruger, who had already seemed to forget she existed as he drank from the stream. She clicked her tongue and made her way to investigate. 

Over the years of being with Todd, Sloane slowly began to learn the calls and looks of all kinds of birds. Although he was a journeyman as his vocation, his real passion was birdwatching. He’d disappear onto the porch with his hands struggling to carry his cup of coffee, his sketching supplies, and his binoculars. He even had a walkie talkie that he’d call Sloane on if something particularly interesting came into his sights that he wanted her to see. To Sloane, she was mostly just indulging him because she didn’t share his fascination with birds. But ever since her husband passed, it had become a subconscious habit for her to look up at the sky or listen on the breeze and try to pick out which ones were around her. Perhaps it was Sloane’s way of looking for a little piece of Todd everywhere she went. 

Sloane kept her eyes fixed on the circling avians, and she sniffled a touch as she asked, “Say Todd, I thought you said that ospreys ain’t travel in groups. How do ya figure this?”

A shiver danced down her spine under her camel colored corduroy jacket, and for a brief moment, she could hear Todd’s voice. It was clear and crisp like autumn itself, not missing any of its cozy qualities like being bundled up under a scarf. It was a voice that could make someone feel like he’d known them their whole life–friendly and understanding. “You reckon right, but if you recall, them’s a solitary type. They prefer to travel with their mate, and that’s called a–”

“Duet,” Sloane interrupted the train of thoughts as she remembered. 

“That’s right, a duet. A group is a rarer sight, but no special word for it. Flock works just fine.” 

Sloane’s body shivered again at the exchange. But she didn’t wonder once if she was going crazy or being delusional because it felt as real as anything she’d ever experienced. After all this time, Sloane was finally listening, and she was getting a response too. 

Once she reached the focal point that the ospreys were orbiting around, a squeak escaped Sloane’s throat, and she covered her mouth in surprise. She was standing in front of a church with cement walls. Sloane knew that it was a church because she was able to see a large crucifix still bolted to the northern wall. The southern wall was crumbling away either to time or vandalism or both. The church was no bigger than a schoolhouse that she’d seen in pioneer movies–one small but open room. 

Sloane stepped over some of the rocky ruin and went inside. She walked down the aisle and passed three pews on either side on her way to the dais, her hand gliding across the smooth wooden seats as she went. Sloane wasn’t sure which denomination this church had once housed, but those sort of specifics had never bothered her. Any house of praise, despite the religion, was a house of God to her. Her shoulders relaxed as she felt a vortex of energy surrounding her. 

Once standing on the dais, Sloane leaned over and laid down on the ground. She interlocked her hands over her chest as her head looked briefly at the crucifix. Sloane smiled to herself and turned her head forward. The roof above the dais had crumbled away just enough for her to see the ospreys still performing their cyclical dance. Sloane couldn’t quite put into words how this decaying church in the middle of the woods felt like Todd did. It wasn’t eerie in the slightest. It felt like it was asylum amidst uncertainty. And it didn’t feel like that because it was a church either, but more because it was a diamond in the rough, just like Todd was. Unique, peaceful, and steady. And without even realizing it, Sloane just began talking. 

“Todd, I gotta be honest, in a lotta ways I feel like I let you down. Not cause of how I went by my maiden name again to somehow shield you from the shame of what I done but for how I talked to you when I visited your grave and for how I didn’t–” Sloane braced herself for the impact of the inevitable as her eyes grew weepy again. “Honor your memory the way that I shoulda.” She could feel her heart begin to race. “I was hateful and so, so fuckin mad at you cause I can’t for the life of me understand why you just didn’t tell me. I wanted to go with you, don’t you understand?” Sloane took a long shaky exhale as she relaxed her back against the cold pavement. “Then the whole thing fucked me up so bad that I tried not to think bout it like it would just go away or somethin. There were moments that I felt like I died that day with you too. Or at least a piece of me.” She inhaled sharply as she clutched her chest, and just as sure as rain, Sloane let out a gutwrenching sob. “I’m so fuckin sorry. You don’t even know the half of it.” 

Sloane felt the tears slip down her cheeks like droplets do down a window pane. “I-I w-wish so damn bad that you’da just t-told me. I mean, why?”

There in the silent chambers of the church, Sloane began to find her answers. There wasn’t another soul there, not physically anyway. There was no one to perform for–to be strong for. She could finally let the laces she’d tied so tightly unravel and trip her if they needed to. 

“Remember my letter?” something seemed to answer her. “I told you that you were meant to find more and you did.”

Sloane shook her head, not in discounting but misunderstanding. “But I wanted the more with you.” Her lip quivered. “I mean we were Sloane and Todd long as I can remember.” 

“We’ll always be that, but you were Sloaney first. My time was up, yours wasn’t. Simple as. You gotta quit diggin your heels in and learn that. We loved long and good, and it was a beautiful thing.”

On first instinct, Sloane wanted to argue right back, but instead she let the words sink in and deep. Her hardened outer shell that she protected herself with dissolved, leaving only the molten core of her hurt. Her grief. The ospreys continued round and round like some sort of ferris wheel, and for the first time, Sloane knew that she wasn’t the prey. So many times she felt as if her body were clamped between the sharp jaws of life as she waited to be devoured at any moment. She closed her eyes and whispered, “But I thought you were it for me. I mean, I was ready for you to be it for me.” 

“Y’know better than most that life don’t give a shit what we’re ready for. C’mon now, darlin, tell me about your more.” 

It was then that a reel of moments following Todd’s death played through the theater hall of Sloane’s mind. Waking up in the bath tub, making it to the QZ, meeting Tommy in the queue line, how her breath caught in her throat the first time Joel looked at her, her first run with the Miller brothers, Tommy leaving for the Fireflies, the first time with Joel, telling Joel that she loved him, hightailing it across the country to find Tommy, making it to Jackson in the freezing cold, seeing Tommy again, fighting with Maria, singing with Joel on the bar, finding the horses that she loved so much, marrying Joel with Tommy and Maria as witnesses, reuniting with Tristan, having the twins… It seemed to her that a lifetime of things had happened to her since the Outbreak, and while she was glad for them, she couldn’t help but feel guilty and broken that Todd couldn’t be there to experience the magic of it all. 

“Don’t do that–feelin sorry for me. I ain’t mad. You hold onto that more and tight cause that’s all I ever wanted for you.” 

Finally something within her clicked, and her tears of mourning turned into relief. Sloane had held onto the notion that she was a monster for moving on the way that she did, but hearing those words–wherever they did come from–made her feel absolved. Those feelings no longer felt like a millstone around her neck. She knew then that she could leave them behind in that church if she wanted to, and Sloane had a fleeting thought that she was foolish for carrying them around for so long. Because she knew firsthand in her heart the person that her late husband was. Todd only wanted the very best for her, but more than anything, he wanted her happy. 

“How could I forget?” she asked the open air. 

“Are you done blubberin now cause I’d like to hear about it if you’d let me.” 

A smile cracked across her once anguished face, and Sloane laughed. She raised her upper body from the ground as if she were a zombie being freed from a crypt. With lightness now blessing her shoulders, she realized that she’d been the one to put herself in that tomb in the first place. Sloane crossed her legs and rested her elbow on one of her knees, but she still didn’t wipe her tear-stained face. She let them glisten in the light for the world to behold, even if only for the ospreys and Todd.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I reckon there’s plenty to catch you up on.” 

Sloane sat for hours recounting every blessed and cursed thing that touched her life in the years since Todd’s death–for him and herself. If there had been a fly on the wall, it would’ve seen her laughing and smiling like a woman gone mad as she talked seemingly to herself. She talked at length about Joel, Tommy, Maria, and their town. Sloane even found herself mentioning Seth. 

But more than anything, she talked about the twins. It had been the Boyd family’s collective dream once to have a family of their own. Todd had wanted nothing more than to be a father, and Sloane knew in every nook and cranny in her body and soul that he’d have made a damned good one. But upon an unfortunate series of events, it never shook out that way, and it was only ever the two of them. Sloane made sure to mention her children’s namesake, especially how Sawyer’s middle name was Todd in honor of him. 

When her mouth was dry and the sun began to set, Sloane had run out of things worth mentioning. She parted from that church and those ospreys with the promise that she’d come back as often as she could and talk to Todd. She’d not only tell him the big, joyous happenings, but also the small, annoying inconveniences too. Sloane knew that she’d found a haven just of her very own. 

When the formidable wooden gate of Jackson came back into view as Sloane rode atop Ruger, she felt as if she were, in some ways, coming back a different woman. She was still her, but unburdened by baggage. She wasn’t magically cured and whole, and perhaps she would never be. However, she finally got some semblance of catharsis that she’d been denying herself by finally daring to begin a process that once scared her so much to the point of not being able to talk about it. She was tending to and airing the wounds that had once been left to fester. Sloane wasn’t going to look at her shadows only as weak points or bad things that happened to her, but as the source of strength they’d been the entire time. The most crucial step was admitting their existence. She had the guardian angel on her shoulder to thank too. Sloane had an inkling that he’d been there the entire time, but now she knew as concretely as one knows that the sky is blue. 

Sloane entered her home to find Joel asleep on the hard wooden floor of the twin’s bedroom. She huffed a laugh at the sight because it wasn’t the first or the last time she’d find him like that. Her husband would never admit it, but when the twins were especially fussy or needy at nap time, he didn’t have it within him to leave the room, so he’d sit with them until eventually falling asleep himself.

For a long moment, all she did was look at them–really look at them–all hushed and beautiful. Sloane Savage had walked through hellfire to behold such a sight, and she’d have done it all again a million times over just to see it the once. But the angel on her shoulder reminded her that although time marching on was a certainty, this sight wasn’t as fleeting as she figured. Sloane could bask in it without the fear that it would be yanked away as soon as she let herself enjoy it. 

Being careful to not make too much noise, Sloane took off her cowboy boots. She crept over to the center of the room and laid beside Joel. She didn’t rouse her children or her husband, and she didn’t plan to. There was no urgency–just the first breath of stilled and undiluted relief. Sloane would wait for them to wake and greet them with all the love that overflowed in her once apprehensive heart. But for the present moment, she just basked.