POV Ivory

* One Year Later *

The church overflowed with wildflowers and September sunlight.

I sat in the front row between my cowboys, the triplets squirming beside us. Kameron’s hand rested warm on my knee while Colt’s fingers intertwined with mine on the other side. A year had reshaped everything: we didn’t care about other people’s opinions.

And watching my brother stand at that altar felt like witnessing proof that broken things could mend.

Ryan looked younger than his years. His eyes glistened as Stella walked toward him in white lace, her smile bright enough to fill the whole sanctuary.

The ranch thrived under shared management now. Kameron competed in occasional rodeos but always returned within days, drawn home by three children who tracked his absence like a wound.

Colt had expanded the cattle operation, his quiet competence earning respect throughout the county.

My veterinary practice had grown so much I’d hired a second vet last spring, finally allowing myself rest.

The triplets had flourished most visibly. Levi rode confidently now, fearless on horseback in ways that made my heart swell with pride. Luke had grown into thoughtful curiosity, asking questions that stumped adults regularly. Lily announced last month that she wanted to be a veterinarian like Mama—or maybe a rodeo star like Dad.

The ceremony was brief and beautiful. Ryan cried when he said his vows. Stella laughed through hers. I reached for Kameron’s hand on one side and Colt’s on the other, squeezing tight as my brother kissed his bride.

The reception spread across the church lawn under white tents. Music drifted from a small band in the corner. Children ran between tables while adults clustered in laughing groups.

Marisol cornered me near the cake table, her sharp eyes narrowing with concern. “You look pale, Ivory. Have you been sleeping?”

I waved off her worry, reaching for a glass of water instead of champagne. “Wedding stress. Helping Stella with last-minute details wore me out.”

“That’s not what I’m seeing.” Her voice dropped lower. “You’ve been exhausted for weeks. I noticed at the rehearsal dinner too. And you just passed on champagne, which you never do.”

Something twisted in my stomach. She was right. The exhaustion I couldn’t shake. The nausea in the mornings I’d blamed on bad coffee. A missed period I’d attributed to stress.

Marisol’s expression shifted as she watched my face. “I’ve seen this before, honey. On you, actually. About seven years ago.”

The realization hit me like a freight train.

I found my cowboys near the bar, laughing at something Ryan said. I pulled them both aside, my hands trembling as I led them to a quiet corner behind the tent.

“What’s wrong?” Colt’s brow furrowed with immediate concern. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m late.” The words tumbled out in a rush. “Very late. Weeks late. I might be pregnant, and I don’t know which of you—”

Kameron’s face split into a grin so wide it transformed his whole expression. He interrupted before I could spiral further.

“If you’re pregnant, it’s definitely Colt’s.”

I stared at him, completely lost. “What are you talking about?”

Kameron glanced at Colt, then back at me. His eyes held no trace of jealousy or disappointment. “Two years before we came back to the ranch, I had a vasectomy. Too many close calls on the rodeo circuit. Too many women who might have wanted to trap a champion rider.”

He shrugged, his grin softening.

“The triplets are mine by miracle or timing or whatever force aligned that single fertile night seven years ago. But any future children will belong to Colt.”

Colt had gone very still beside me. His hand found my stomach, palm flat and protective against the fabric of my dress.

“You’re sure?” His voice cracked on the words.

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