Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
The floor was hard and cold beneath Fiona’s knees, but she barely registered the discomfort. Her fingers were wrapped around Rhett’s hand, his callused palm against her skin.
They’d made it. They were home.
The golden light surrounding them faded like morning mist, revealing the familiar overhead bulbs of Eliza’s bakery.
The scent of yeast, sugar, and fresh-brewed coffee washed over her, so different from the wood smoke and winter cold of 1878, for a moment she couldn’t quite catch her breath.
But they were back. Safe. All three of them.
“Jamie,” she whispered, her heart in her throat as she pulled back to look at her son. His cheeks were pink, his eyes blinking open with sleepy confusion.
“Mom?”
“I’m here, sweetheart. We’re okay. We’re home.” The word caught in her throat, carrying more meaning than she could possibly express.
Footsteps hurried across the tile, and Eliza was there, Wyatt close behind her. Eliza had a stack of blankets in her arms, as if she’d been waiting for exactly this moment.
“You’re freezing.” Eliza draped a blanket around Fiona’s shoulders before wrapping another around Jamie.
The warmth of the fabric made Fiona realize just how deep the cold had settled into her bones, how close they’d come to not making it back at all.
Wyatt crouched beside Rhett, resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You all right?”
Rhett nodded, though his hand was still locked around Fiona’s as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go. When he spoke, his voice came out rough with emotion.
“We’re through. All of us.”
Something in his tone, relief and wonder and exhaustion all mixed together burned Fiona’s eyes with unshed tears.
She spied the Christmas card lying on the counter. The painted surface began to change, the colors swirling and darkening, the Montana landscape folding in on itself like a photograph curling in flame.
Wyatt reached for it, but before his fingers could make contact, fire bloomed across the card’s surface.
The flame was bright and pure, consuming the thick paper in a single breath.
There was no smoke, no acrid smell of burning, just brilliant light and then nothing but a small pile of ash on the counter.
For a long moment, nobody moved. Nobody spoke.
Finally, Wyatt broke the silence, his voice quiet but certain. “That’s it. No card, no way back.” He turned to look at Rhett, and something unreadable passed across his face. “Welcome to 2025, partner.”
Fiona felt Rhett’s hand tighten around hers, felt the tremor that ran through him even as he tried to suppress it. He’d given up everything—his entire world, his century, any chance of going back—all to bring her and Jamie home.
“Guess I am,” was all he said, but those three simple words carried the weight of finality.
Her throat constricted with emotion. “Rhett, I’m so sorry—“
“Don’t be.” His blue eyes met hers, calm and steady despite everything he’d just lost.
“But you can never go back. Everything you knew, everyone from your time—“
“I know what I lost, Fi.” His voice was gentle but firm, and something in his gaze made her breath catch. “I also know what I found.”
The words hung between them, too big and too complicated to fully process in this moment, but solid enough to hold onto.
Eliza was the first to move, her practical nature taking over. She touched Fiona’s shoulder with gentle understanding. “Let’s get you all home. Jamie needs rest, and so do you.”
“Home,” Fiona echoed. Then reality crashed back. “Wait—how did you even get here?”
A sheepish expression crossed Rhett’s face as he reached into his coat pocket and produced a key. “I, uh, borrowed Tessa’s truck.”
Fiona stared at him. “You drove here? By yourself? In the middle of the night?”
“Mostly in a straight line,” he said with a wry smile that made something warm flutter in her chest despite everything.
The absurdity of it—this man from 1878 driving a modern truck through her town to rescue them—bubbled up as laughter. It came out a little hysterical, but grateful too. “Then I’m definitely driving home.”
While they’d been talking, Eliza had bustled behind the counter and was now filling a small box with pastries wrapped in wax paper, adding a thermos that sloshed with what sounded like soup, napkins, and bottles of water.
The simple kindness of the gesture—planning for their breakfast when morning came—nearly undid Fiona completely.
“Thank you,” she managed, her voice thick. “For everything.”
“Go home and rest.” Eliza’s smile was warm with understanding. “We’ll check on you tomorrow.”
Wyatt held the door open, cold air rushing in to remind them it was still the middle of winter. “You need anything, anything at all, you call. Day or night.”
Rhett stood and bent to lift Jamie, settling the drowsy boy against his chest with such natural care that Fiona’s heart squeezed. Jamie’s head dropped to Rhett’s shoulder, his eyes already drifting closed again, trusting this man completely.
Fiona pushed to her feet, her bare toes curling against the cold tile.
“Wait.” Eliza disappeared into the back and returned with a pair of worn canvas shoes. “These are mine. They’ll be way too big, but better than nothing.”
The shoes were indeed several sizes too large, but they were warm and dry, and Fiona had to blink back tears at such a simple kindness. “I’ll return them—“
“Keep them.” Eliza squeezed her arm once. “Now go. Get some rest.”
The drive home passed in a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. Christmas lights twinkled in windows as they drove through the sleeping town, everything peaceful and normal, as if the last few hours hadn’t turned their entire world upside down.
When they reached her apartment complex, Rhett carefully lifted Jamie from the back seat while Fiona grabbed the box of food Eliza had packed for them.
The sight of her front door hanging crooked on its hinges, the frame splintered where Rhett had broken through in his desperate rush to reach them, made her throat tight with emotion. They’d deal with repairs tomorrow. Right now, all that mattered was getting inside.
The Christmas tree was still blinking its steady pattern, red and green and white, a beacon of normalcy in their little living room.
Fiona followed Rhett down the short hallway to Jamie’s room, watching as he lowered her son onto the bed with the gentleness of someone who’d done this before, for another child, in another lifetime.
Jamie stirred, mumbling something unintelligible before burrowing deeper into his pillow, already fast asleep again.
Standing in the doorway, Fiona felt emotion well up so strong it threatened to overwhelm her. Her son was home. Safe. Whole. After everything they’d been through, after coming so close to losing him forever, Jamie was here in his own bed, sleeping peacefully.
Rhett straightened and turned, his eyes meeting hers in the soft glow from the dinosaur nightlight.
“Thank you.” The words felt inadequate for what he’d done, but they were all she had. “You saved us, Rhett. You came through time itself—“
“I couldn’t have done anything else,” he said. He took a step closer. “You and Jamie—“ He stopped, seeming to search for the right words. “You’re everything.”
The confession hung in the air between them, raw and honest and unguarded.
Fiona reached up and cupped his jaw, feeling the scratch of stubble against her palm. The gesture felt both familiar and new, as if her hand had been meant to fit just there. “You gave up your whole life. Your entire world. You can never go back.”
“I know.” He turned his head, pressing into her touch, his eyes never leaving hers. “And I’m choosing you and Jamie.”
The tears she’d been holding back finally spilled over, but they weren’t tears of sadness, not entirely. They were tears of relief and gratitude and something else she wasn’t quite ready to name.
She wasn’t entirely sure who moved first, whether she rose on her toes or he lowered his head, but suddenly the distance between them disappeared and his mouth found hers.
The kiss was nothing like that almost-moment in the parking lot days ago. There was no hesitation now, no pulling back, no second-guessing. Just raw need and bone-deep relief and the absolute certainty that this was right.
His arms came around her, pulling her close, and she made a soft sound against his mouth as her hands found his shoulders, sliding up to tangle in his hair that was still damp from melted snow.
He tasted like coffee and winter and coming home after being lost for far too long. His mouth moved against hers with a hunger that matched her own, taking and giving in equal measure, communicating everything they couldn’t yet put into words.
When his hand cupped the back of her head, his fingers threading gently through her hair to angle her closer, she pressed into him, eliminating every inch of space between them. She needed to feel him solid and real and here, needed the reassurance of his heartbeat against hers.
When he finally pulled back just enough to breathe, she found herself chasing his mouth, not ready to let go of this connection, this moment.
He obliged with a soft sound that might have been her name, kissing her again, softer this time but no less intense. His lips moved to her jaw, her temple, back to her mouth, as if he couldn’t quite get enough either.
“Fi.” Her name was rough on his lips, somewhere between a prayer and a plea, and it made her heart stumble in her chest.
She opened her eyes to find him watching her with an expression that stole what little breath she’d managed to reclaim. His face was open and vulnerable in a way she suspected he rarely allowed himself to be, full of everything neither of them had words for yet.
He kissed her once more, slow and thorough and full of unspoken promise. When they finally broke apart, she was breathless and dizzy and more certain than she’d been of anything in years.
From down the hall, Jamie mumbled something in his sleep, the sound pulling them both back to the apartment with its broken door, to the impossible night they’d somehow survived, to the complicated future they’d have to figure out together.
But Rhett didn’t let go. His arms stayed around her, warm and solid and sure, an anchor in a world that had been turned upside down.
“We should probably get some sleep,” she said, though she made no move to step away from the circle of his embrace.
“We should,” he agreed, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead that made her eyes burn with fresh tears. “But I’m not quite ready to let go yet.”
“Then don’t,” she whispered.
So they stood there, holding each other in the doorway of her son’s room while the Christmas tree blinked its cheerful pattern in the background. It was ordinary and extraordinary all at once—just two people finding comfort in each other after surviving something impossible.
Everything had changed. Nothing could ever be the same.
And for the first time in as long as Fiona could remember, she wasn’t afraid of what came next.