Epilogue
Noah
One Month Later
“Idon’t do planes.” Lily slings her backpack over her shoulder as we exit.
The jet bridge is cramped, but I don’t mind. Not when I’m with her. Lily shoots a look over her shoulder, nose scrunching at the crowd traffic behind her, and I smile. “You already did the plane, Lil.”
She rolls her eyes.
People are jittery, hustling to get ahead of others, and I shake my head. Who in their right mind would be in a rush to leave the airport in Jackson, Mississippi? I shift to the side, letting a mom with a stroller squeeze by, and I offer a smile to the gray-haired guy huffing behind her.
The air on the jetway smells like fuel and recycled air, but there’s something about stepping off a plane in Lily’s home state that excites me.
I roll my shoulders back, stretching out after the long four-hour flight.
My hoodie already feels heavy in the humid spring air, and we haven’t even stepped outside yet.
Someone brushes my arm with their carry-on and grumbles out an apology.
I nod unbothered, and watch Lily speed-walk up ahead, weaving through people.
She says she’s dreading it, the reunion with her family, but she doesn’t realize she smiled the whole flight.
Ducking through a gap, she skips ahead—God, she’s beautiful.
Especially when she’s unguarded, open, all heart and vulnerable words.
I’d follow her anywhere. But this? Her rushing toward something healing, something good that she’s been missing—yeah, this is the kind of moment I’ll remember forever.
Something slips from the back pocket of her black jeans and flutters to the stained jetway carpet.
I bend to grab it before it gets trampled, assuming it’s trash, but it’s not.
It’s a napkin, but not some greasy leftover from her in-flight fast-food tacos.
It’s been folded with care, crumpled yes, but ink-smudged and slightly torn at the edge.
Her messy script runs down the length, looping in blue pen:
First things to say to my parents:
1. I love you.
2. Something bad happened to me, but I want to share my adventures with you first. I want you to know who I am.
3. This is Noah. I love him.
I blink at it, my heart clenching. When I glance back up, she’s still threading through the crowd, pretending to mask her pace by playing with her phone in her hand. I slide her list into my jacket pocket just in time to see another piece of paper fall from her backpack.
I chuckle, running to snatch it up. Only this time, it truly is trash. A Snickers wrapper torn to shreds. I tuck it into my jeans pocket right before calling out, “Lil, slow down.”
She spins, eyes widening once she calculates how far ahead she is. Standing there, she lets the flow of people break around her as she taps her thick boot, arms crossed. “You know? Max would’ve kept up.”
When I reach her, her eyes flick up to meet mine for a second, but it’s enough to see the storm of emotions she’s trying to hide behind her sarcastic tone.
I know she was sad to leave Max. I was, too, but flying with a working K-9 is tricky.
It can be common for handlers to take their canine partners with them on vacation, but with Max in his prime, it’s best to leave him with the other handlers so he can continue his routine.
Especially because I’ve been out on medical and haven’t gone back yet.
He needs to keep working, and I want what’s best for him.
Lily does, too, but I know how much Max eases her anxiety.
I slip a hand around the back of her neck, my thumb brushing the soft hair at her nape. She sighs, like my touch instantly relaxes her, and I guide her forward to press my lips to her forehead. It isn’t quick, and I don’t let her go.
She exhales against my chest as she wraps her arms around my torso and nuzzles into me. “I couldn’t do this without you,” she says.
I break from my kiss. “Yes, you could. But I’m glad to be here with you.”
Her head fits under my chin, and when her shoulders sag a bit more, I tug her closer.
Someone mumbles, “get a room” in a thick southern accent, and I laugh as Lily snaps back, “Oh, we will!”
I shake my head and take her hand to pull her along through the terminal. “Will we now?”
She winks at me. “I brought one of your ties. Well, really the only one, but still.”
“Funny,” I deadpan.
“I’m serious.”
I squeeze her hand, fighting the heat that floods me. Perfect. That’s all I need before I meet her brother and his wife. Hi, I’m Noah. I love your sister and have trouble controlling myself around her. He’d kill me.
“I haven’t seen the bed-and-breakfast in so long. I’m excited to see the updates my grandparents made. I’ve peeked at the new website Fleur did, and the photos she took of the property are stunning, but seeing it in person … after all this time …”
I double pump her hand again.
Most of the people from our flight are waiting at baggage claim, and Lily fidgets with the fabric of her T-shirt tucked into the front of her jeans. She chews her lip, then moves to her thumbnail.
I yank her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles. Her eyes dart around, roving over the ground level until—
Her gaze snags on something. One minute she’s at my side, the next she’s gone as the claim belt creaks to life. Her boots thunk across the tile, and her pack falls off her shoulder to the floor behind her. She darts between suitcases and strangers and doesn’t slow down.
“Liam!” Lily yells as she runs to a bulky man with shoulder-length blond hair. A tattoo sleeve runs up one arm, and under the other a petite blonde with long hair braided under a baseball cap beams.
Liam steps forward just before she slams into him full force. She wraps her arms around his neck as she balances on her toes. He staggers back half a step and wraps his arms around her. The girl, Fleur, beside him, wipes at the tears welling in her eyes as she grins at their embrace.
Ignoring the bustle of baggage claim, I grab her flung bag and stride up behind her as Lily releases her brother and turns, searching for me. When she realizes I’m right here her bright eyes sparkle, and the similarities between hers and Liam’s are uncanny.
“Noah, this is Liam. My oldest brother.” She’s breathless, but her grin is wide. “Liam, this is Noah.”
He extends his hand, and I take it, meeting the forceful grip with one of my own. “Thank you for bring my little sister home, even if it’s just for two weeks.”
I smile. Bring her home, like the whirlwind herself didn’t have a say. I laugh to myself.
“This is Fleur, my wife.” Liam hauls Fleur into him, and I know that feeling. That protective, can’t-believe-she’s-mine, won’t-let-anything-happen-to-her feeling.
Fleur breaks away from Liam and pulls Lily in for a hug. “It’s so wonderful to meet you in person. I feel like I know you from our emails, but it’s good to have you back in Mississippi for a visit. The photos of the house are amazing so far.”
In the weeks since my stint in the hospital, we’ve gutted half the kitchen.
Well, our contractor has. At first, when we ripped out the dated backsplash, it was heavy.
It felt like removing a small piece of my mother—her passing still so fresh.
But I imagined my mother looking down over us and calling us idiots, saying Oh please, I’m dead, not blind.
It’s tile, not a shrine. Make this house a home with her already.
It’s become easier, and now when they strip the walls or tear up the flooring, it doesn’t feel so much like a loss, but creation. I want to build this for us. A place to hear her unencumbered laughter, a place for her to write unburdened, a space for her chaos to exhale.
Liam doesn’t say much more, just keeps glancing at Lily and then back at me. His eyes are steady, scruffy jaw tight, but then his expression softens. He nods to me. No smile, just a mutual understanding between two men who both love the same woman in different ways.
Fleur grins at the two of us. “Come on. Let’s get your bags. Ruin is waiting.”