Epilogue #2
I chuckle at her laugh, then guide her through the space, pointing out where we plan to have displays of some of our best work as well as the office area.
There’s a small bar that we plan to turn into the main counter, a leftover remnant from the building’s earlier days.
We’ve found a guy who can retrofit the ornate wood and turn it into something special.
“And we’ll put the bays in here,” I say, waving my hand along the whole wall that leads to the alley in the back. “We’ve already started permits with the city to pave our portion back there, and then it should be easy to get cars in and out.”
“Rowan . . . it’s amazing.” She spins slowly, and I almost drop to one knee right now.
But I want to get her in her dream home first, to make our first memory in the place we’ll live.
So, I sweep her into my arms instead and carry her back to the steps, climbing up until we reach our new front door.
“Now, I’d carry you over the thresholds, but fair warning, there’s a hole in the floor.” I wince, and it takes her a moment to read my face and see that I’m not kidding.
“Oh. Yeah, uhm. I’ll walk on my own.”
I gesture to the keys in her hand, and she pushes the second one into the lock, swinging our new door open.
The mustiness has faded a bit since Mig and I were up here last week, and thankfully, they’ve kept the curtains open since then as well, because otherwise, I’m afraid we’d accidentally find the hole I mentioned.
“Rowan,” she gasps, covering her mouth as her eyes flicker like a child waking up to snow on Christmas. “It’s . . . it’s everything.”
The sight of happy tears touching her eyes is more than I hoped for. I stand back as she runs her hand along the built-in wooden nook by the door, then continues into the family room, sliding her feet along the old wood floors.
“I love the dents and dings. I want to keep them. Can we keep them, Rowan?”
She turns to me, and I’m already on one knee. I couldn’t handle it. Seeing her sense of wonder, seeing her so happy, literally brought me to my knees.
“Oh,” she gasps, covering her mouth again and dropping the keys to the floor.
I push my hand deep into my pocket, snagging the edge of the setting with my fingernail to retrieve my grandmother’s ring, and I hold it out for her to inspect while I force feeling back into my smiling, numb lips.
“Saylor Kelly, I love you. And I know that it may seem like I’m a grumpy wreck sometimes, but since I met you, I’ve learned a lot about myself.
I’ve learned what I’m capable of. I’ve learned how to love someone with all my heart, and to tell the world so.
I’ve learned to forgive, even when I don’t want to.
And I’ve learned to share the hard things, not just the happy ones.
Most of all, though, I have learned that while I can live without seeing you every damn day, I just don’t want to.
So, what do you say? Will you turn me into a clingy motherfucker? Will you be my wife?”
Saylor’s hands clasp around mine, her fingertips sliding up to meet mine where the crown of the antique ring showcases a princess-cut diamond and two sapphires, her favorite color of blue.
When she begins to nod, I exhale, my head a little dizzy from holding my breath.
“Yeah?” I want to make sure.
“Yes, Rowan. Yes, I will marry you.” The tears begin trailing down her cheeks as she lets me push the ring onto her finger. The fit is a little big, but nothing we can’t fix. We’re used to growing into things, her and I.
“You should know, I asked your dad for permission. Like an old-fashioned cuss.” She laughs through her happy cry, nodding as she runs her arm over her nose and falls into my chest for my embrace. I hold on as I sway her, never wanting to let go.
“And my mom?” She tilts her head up enough to meet my eyes.
Saylor and her mom have made strides in their relationship for sure, but there’s still a lot of trust that needs to be rebuilt.
They talk several times a week, and sometimes they cover deeper ground.
But mostly it’s still casual —the kind of conversation had between coworkers.
Maybe this proposal can be the first of many, though.
A way to wedge open the door to becoming family again, however that needs to look.
“I thought you might want to handle that,” I say, and she nods.
“I do. I will.” She snuggles against me, and I reach into my pocket for my phone, pulling up her favorite song while I sway her in the middle of our dusty, perfect apartment.
The chorus always hits me, but something about hearing Mazzy Star’s haunting voice preach about fading into you hits extra hard this time, and I hold on a little tighter.
“I can’t wait to see it all evolve,” she says, shifting her head enough to gaze up at me. I bend down to kiss her softly, then smile and hold onto her amber brown eyes and promise to make everything in this place exactly the way she wants it.
She shakes her head, though, then sets me straight.
“We’ll make it ours. Just like we made us.”
THE END
If you enjoyed THE OLDER brOTHER, you may like these Ginger Scott books:
The Moon & Back
Johnny Bishop crashed into my life like a hurricane. Not once, but twice.
The first time, we were teenagers. He was the star quarterback destined to save our small town's high school team. I was the music nerd desperate to shine, but always falling short.
Until him.
Johnny was good at football, but he was great at music.
And when I realized we shared a love of performing, I fell for his charm.
I drank in his words and was hypnotized by the way he sang.
I was never fully in the spotlight with him, but the way he held onto me and kept me close felt good enough.
His star was bright enough for both of us, and his dreams were worth all the risks, even if they were my dreams first.
But when he left our town--leaving me in it--the damage in his wake was devastating.
I spent a decade trying to piece together my broken heart.
A decade trying to avoid his music, a nearly impossible feat considering he was selling out arenas and piling up Grammys.
While he tore through city after city, I built a quiet life as a music teacher in my hometown.
I'd made peace with the fact that a now famous rockstar once held my hand and told me he loved me. But when he shows up unannounced, begging for help, I’m sucked right back into his gravitational pull.
I want to hate him. I want to punish him for turning his back on me. But I can’t when he’s so broken. And the more time we spend in our present talking about our past, the more I start to wonder if maybe Johnny left to save us all from the storm.
Maybe that story about me and the famous rockstar has a lot more story to be told.
Hold My Breath
Fractions of seconds can do lots of damage. One decision can ruin lives. A blink can be tragic. And loving a Hollister…can hurt like hell.
I would know.
They say the average person can hold their breath under water for two full minutes when pushed to the extremes.
Will Hollister has been holding his for years.
The oldest of two elite swimming brothers, Will was always a dominant force in the water.
But in life, he preferred to let his younger brother Evan be the one to shine.
Evan got the girl, and Will…he got to bury all of the secrets. A brother’s burden, the weight of it all nearly left him to drown.
The daughter of two Olympians, my path was set the day my fingertips first touched water. My future was as crystal clear as the lane I dominated in the pool—swim hard, win big, love a Hollister.
My life with Evan burned bright. He gave me arms to come home to, and a smile that fooled the world into believing everything was perfect. But it was Will who pushed me. Will…who really knew me.
And when all of the pieces fell, it was Will who started to pick them up.
In he end, the only thing that matters are those few precious seconds—and what we decide to do while we still have them in our grasp.