Declan was rough chopping some potatoes and carrots for dinner when the landline rang. Picking the phone up from the cradle, he tucked it under his cheek.

“Hello?” he said, moving back to the cutting board.

“Dec, you would not believe what just popped up on Facebook!” Iris squealed in his ear.

He grinned into the phone. Whatever was making Iris this happy was A+ in his book. “They finally found Bigfoot,” he guessed, tongue in cheek.

She paused for a moment, decided he was kidding, and plowed on as if he hadn’t said anything. “Piglets! Mr. Harther got an early crop of them, and his granddaughter took pictures and put them up on Facebook. Oh Declan, you should see them. They are adorable! I already called and asked how much they are, and they’re not expensive at all. He said that for you, he’d—”

“No!”

The sound came out harsh and rough and rude but he hadn’t been able to stop himself.

There was silence, dead silence, on the line.

Declan laid down the knife next to the chopping board and rubbed his eyes wearily with the palms of his hands. “Millers are farmers, not pig farmers, Cookie. There’s a difference. I—”

“Don’t Cookie me, Declan!” she snapped, cutting him off at the pass. “Someday, you’re going to tell me why the hell you refuse to get into the one thing you’ve always loved and adored. Don’t patronize me in the meanwhile.”

And then she hung up.

Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

Declan dropped the phone to the counter and stared sightlessly at his cutting board and his half-finished dinner.

It’d been about three months since he’d finally knocked some sense into Iris, and convinced her to apply for disability. She actually had, which Declan had been shocked to see happen. He would’ve bet good money on the fact that she wouldn’t go through with it, but she had. With those checks coming in and living in her parent’s MIL apartment, she was barely squeaking by.

He’d offered to pay for her medical bills, to take those payments off her plate, but Iris hadn’t changed that much. She was bound and determined to pay the bills off all on her own.

She’d been making canes, perfecting the art and craft of it, and researching where and how to sell them, and had moved on with her life.

He hadn’t moved on with his, though.

He knew it. He knew he’d done nothing but ignore the reality haunting him: He couldn’t propose to Iris until he told her the truth about him. It wasn’t fair to her to shackle herself to him for the rest of her life, if she didn’t know just how stupid he was.

And, how stupid he could make their kids. He still didn’t know if dyslexia was a genetic thing, and without revealing that he had it, he couldn’t think of a good reason to ask someone to do the research for him and tell him the answer.

So he’d just been drifting along, happy to take Iris out on dates, make love to her, and then leave her at her house as he drove back to his.

Two weeks ago, Wyatt had told him point-blank that it was “time to shit or get off the pot,” and then mumbled something about telling Abby thanks for that bit of advice. Declan had stared at him for a moment, but had decided to let it pass.

And anyway, he and Iris were both 35, and if they were gonna have even a small fraction of his 10-kid posse he’d joked about, they probably should get a move-on.

Which meant marriage.

And telling her the truth.

Which led him right back to his current predicament.

He’d been much happier ignoring all of this, of course. If she knew and chose to break up with him because of it…

He wasn’t quite sure he’d live through the heartache.

But if she gave up on him and moved on without him because he refused to move their dating relationship up to marriage level, well…

He wasn’t quite sure he’d live through the heartache of that, either.

With a growl, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Austin’s number. “Hey,” he said as soon as Austin picked up, “you got time to come on over here and chat for a minute?”

* * *

Austin was quick to show up, something Declan was grateful for. He was pacing around in his barn like a caged animal when he heard tires on the gravel driveway. He headed outside to meet Austin at his truck. The weak spring sunshine felt good on his shoulders. It was a relatively peaceful spring day – no rain and only a light breeze – which was some kind of record for Long Valley. He would enjoy it while he could take it.

They shook hands and then Austin looked around. “You need help fixin’ your combine for next season?” he asked.

“Oh no, I gave up on that piece of shit. I’ve already signed the paperwork with the bank for a new one for next season.” He dug his toe into the rain-softened gravel and then said with a fake cheerfulness, “What about a ride?”

“Sure,” Austin said, his brow creasing with confusion. Being the kind of guy he was, though, he didn’t demand answers, but rather just followed along behind Declan into the barn, where they saddled up his two horses, Hero and Badlands, in companionable silence.

This was good for the horses anyway. Just coming out of winter, they’d been cooped up for far too long. They’d enjoy a good ride.

Anything to justify putting this off for just a little longer.

Declan decided to ignore that thought, too.

They rode out along the fields, his hard wheat just starting to peek out of the ground. The brilliant green of the softly rolling hills sang spring to his soul, and he took a deep breath, inhaling the sunlight and faint warmth and pure Idahoness of the air.

They stopped at a stream, letting their horses drink as they listened to a few bullfrogs singing, when Declan finally blurted out, “I’m dyslexic.”

Austin sat still for a good long while, not saying anything, not moving, and Declan just let him process it. He didn’t get antsy with him like he would have with anyone else; this was just the way that Austin internalized information before actually responding.

“Well now, that makes a lot of sense,” Austin finally said, tipping his hat back on his head and looking over at Declan.

“It does?” Declan said, surprised. Out of all of the things that he thought Austin would say…well, that particular response wasn’t even in the top 10.

“I’d never met a person more adverse to reading and studying than you,” Austin said with a small grin. “I thought you just weren’t fond of school. I wasn’t either, but…you could avoid studying better than even me, and I thought I had it down to a science.”

Declan remembered all of the Friday nights…and Saturday nights…and okay, Monday, Thursday, and Sunday nights…all right, Tuesday and Wednesday nights too…where he’d done his best to convince Austin that they ought to go out on the town or go for a hike or hell, go to the grocery store – anything instead of studying.

In retrospect, he probably wasn’t the world’s best roommate.

“So why now?” Austin asked simply.

Declan knew what he was asking – why are you telling me this now?

Which was a perfectly valid question to ask.

“Iris,” Declan replied. “I want to ask her to marry me, but I have to tell her how stupid her future husband really is, before she agrees to take me on.”

“And…?” Austin prompted.

“And what?”

“Well, why are you telling me this? Shouldn’t you be asking Iris? It’s up to her, not me.” Austin winked at him.

“Yeah. I know. I just…I don’t know how to tell her.”

Which as soon as he said it, he felt ridiculous. He knew what Austin was going to say, and he didn’t disappoint. “I suggest starting with the fact that you’re dyslexic, and go from there.”

When Declan started to mumble about how helpful Austin was being, Austin cut him off with a wave of the hand. “Declan, how long have you known Iris?”

“About all my life.” He honestly couldn’t remember meeting her. She was just there, always. He hadn’t noticed her as a girl until junior high, but they’d been in most of the same classes in elementary school, and anyway, Sawyer was small enough that even if they weren’t in the same classroom, they saw each other in passing on the playground, field trips, and other school activities. She was usually busy thumping the other boys into submission in any sport they dared to challenge her to.

“How long have you loved her?”

“Since junior high.” The first junior high dance. Eighth grade. He’d spotted her across the gym, chatting with some of her friends, and he felt like he’d been gut punched. He’d never seen such a beautiful girl in all his life, with her hair curled and piled up on top of her head. She looked so grown-up, and so at ease, so confident.

He instantly became tongue-tied, a condition that persisted around her until their tenth grade year together.

“And in all the time you’ve known her, how often have you seen Iris be downright mean to someone?”

“Once.” Declan grinned at the memory. “Oh, but they deserved it. Ezzy and Tiffany had ganged up on Ivy, and Iris let ‘em have it. She told them what she thought of them, their parentage, and exactly what items they could shove where the sun don’t shine.”

Austin chuckled at that. “I think I would’ve paid good money to see that,” he said.

Declan nodded. “Truly one of Iris’ shining moments. I didn’t know she even knew some of those words.” He sobered up. “But what if—”

“Declan, you need to pull your head out of your ass,” Austin said, not even letting Declan finish stating his worry. “I wasn’t there when y’all were going to school, so I didn’t get to see your courtship and whatnot. But I have seen you since she moved back to Long Valley, and Dec, I’ve never seen you so happy in my life. She loves you, truly loves you.

“Don’t be a dumbass and screw that up.”

Declan nodded and swallowed hard. He was right. Of course.

It was just easier said than done.