by Kinley Cole
“Where the hell do you think he is, Buck?” Don asks sarcastically.
“The field.” I roll my eyes and laugh, sticking my hands in my pocket.
Shuffling my way to the field, I fumble around with the velvet box. As soon as I reach my destination, Jack makes eye contact with me and leans the pitchfork he’s been wielding against the fencepost.
“Hey, man. Dakota’s inside. She’s been throwin’ up all mornin’.”
“Oh, shit. Really? Well, I better make this quick, then.” I pause, swallowing down my nervousness. “I didn’t come here to see Kota. At least, not yet. I came here to see you.”
Concern washes over Jack’s face. “I swear to God, Buck, if you came here to tell me you’re gonna break up with my little sister, I’m going to shove this pitchfork so far up your ass it’ll come out with your eyeballs stuck on the end,” he growls.
“Whoa there, cowboy. I’m not breaking up with Kota.” I pull the emerald green box from my pocket. My hands are shaky and clammy, my knees wobbly as hell. “I came here to ask you for Kota’s hand in marriage.”
“Holy shit. Are you kiddin’ me?” he asks, obviously surprised. I can’t read his facial expression past that, though, to tell whether or not he still wants to shove the pitchfork up my ass.
“Nope, I ain’t kiddin’ ya.” I swallow again, anxious for him to say something else.
“Fuck, yes, you have my blessin’.” He shakes my hand firmly and pulls me in for a bro hug. I breathe out a sigh of relief and happiness.
“I gotta get runnin’, then. I need to ask Auntie Rae and Uncle Don now.”
“You know they’ll say yes,” Jack reassures me, his mouth still curled into a proud grin.
“I’m not worried about what they’ll say. I’m confident they’ll say yes and give me their blessin’. What I’m nervous about is askin’ Kota. I want it to be perfect.”
“You’ve always been a perfectionist, so I’m sure you’ll knock the proposal out of the park no matter how you ask her.” Jack pats my back, grabbing the pitchfork again.
“Thanks, Jack.” I give him a gracious smile before walking back toward the porch.
After getting Auntie Rae’s and Uncle Don’s blessings, we exchange warm hugs and I open the screen door. I make my way up the stairs silently. I can hear Kota getting sick again, and I lightly tap my knuckles against the door before going in.
There she is, on her knees in front of the porcelain bowl, her dark hair tied on top of her head in a messy bun. An ache forms in my chest. I hate seeing her sick and knowing she’s miserable as hell.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, her pale green face turning a shade of red. “I look awful and I’m sure I smell just as bad.” She starts to dry heave, and I kneel down beside her to rub her back soothingly. “False alarm,” she advises me weakly, struggling to smile. “I thought I was going to upchuck again.”
“Kota, you look beautiful. Even with puke on your face.” I take my thumb and wipe away the vomit from her chin, rubbing it onto my jeans. “I know this probably isn’t the perfect time to ask you but I can’t wait any longer.” I pull the velvet box from my pocket, opening it to reveal my grandma’s teardrop-cut diamond ring. “Kota Lynn Jenkins, will you marry me?”
“Are you crazy?” She laughs nervously. “You’re really proposin’ to me when I’m on my knees throwin’ up!” Kota cups her hands on her cheeks, still laughing.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doin’. Through the good and the bad, right? I’m wild about you, Kota. And I couldn’t waste another minute.”
“And I’m wild about you, Buck Dawson. Of course, I’ll marry you.”
I gently pull the ring from the small square box, sliding it onto Kota’s delicate finger. I plant my lips upon hers, not havin’ a care in the world that she’s been pukin’ all morning.
That’s when it hits me.
She’s pregnant...
THE END
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