Epilogue
Two Weeks Later
DYLAN
Present Day
T aylor stays with me for four days before she finally has to head back home. Our goodbye is emotional; she has been my rock over the past five months.
As I watch her drive away, a small part of me feels scared to be on my own in a town where I know no one. But there’s another part of me—one that thrives on the unknown—that is secretly thrilled.
I don’t have a plan, just a rough sketch of what I want to do. I’ve already decided to start my own interior design consultancy. I have nothing to lose.
Grabbing my sketchbook, I head downstairs to one of the cafes lining the sidewalk.
I settle on one that’s quaint and quiet, with tables facing the ocean. I order an oat milk cappuccino and find a spot at the bench near the open bifold windows.
The day is stunning.
Sunshine dances across the water, each wave sparkling like diamonds. I open my sketchbook and begin sketching the view, letting the rhythmic crash of the waves take me to a place far, far away.
I stay there until mid-afternoon, absorbed in my art, before finally heading back upstairs to my apartment.
***
Lighting a salted caramel scented candle, I decide to pour myself a glass of red wine and watch the sunset from the balcony.
It's brilliant, as usual.
Billie Eilish’s haunting voice flows from the speakers. I lean on the balustrade, sipping my wine, listening to her and Khalid sing 'Lovely.'
My heart still aches, but it’s tolerable. For the first time in months, I feel like I'm coming back to life.
Then I hear it: the low roar of an engine.
I glance down at the street below, watching as a black Camaro pulls into a parking spot directly across from my building. The fine hairs on my neck stand on end as a heavily tattooed man steps out of the car.
I already know it's him.
He moves with ease, walking around the hood before leaning casually against it. He’s wearing a backwards white hat, a black shirt that hugs his broad shoulders, and dark jeans.
And then the devil looks up.
My world comes to a complete stop.
A smile tugs at the corner of his delicious mouth and I inhale sharply, nearly dropping my wine glass.
What the hell is he doing here? Miller’s Bay is at least a fifteen-hour drive from Grey’s Forest.
My mind spins as I straighten my spine, blinking hard, half-expecting him to disappear like a cruel trick of memory.
But he doesn’t disappear. This isn't an illusion.
He stands there for a few moments, waiting for a break in traffic before crossing the road.
Frozen, I watch him disappear from view beneath my balcony. My pulse pounds, loud and erratic.
Is he coming up here?
Turning, I walk inside my apartment, setting my wine glass on the counter. My eyes stay glued to the door, the seconds stretching out into what feels like hours.
I run my hands through my hair.
A minute passes. Then two.
Somewhere between the second and third minute, a soft knock echoes through the room.
And then another, firmer this time.
Rap, rap, rap.
I cross the room, my hand trembling as I reach for the handle and open the door.
Standing there in the doorway is Brax.
His wild, stormy eyes meet mine, burning with intensity. There’s hesitation there too, a flicker of vulnerability behind his confident stance, like he’s as nervous as I am.
“Hey, Wild Thing,” he says, his voice husky and warm. Hearing my nickname from his lips sends a wave of butterflies fluttering through my stomach. "Can I come in?"
I give my permission by opening the door wider. He steps inside, his gaze never leaving mine.
“You’re not an easy person to track down.”
“What are you doing here?” I whisper. “How did you find me?”
Smirking, he tilts his head to the side. “What do you think I’m doing here?”
“Don’t answer my question with a question.”
Brax takes my hand in his. I go with his flow, I'm fluid, like water. His fingers slide against mine, warm and familiar. “I came to see about a girl.”
My eyes drop to our hands, his tattooed fingers tracing the ring I wear. The motion sends a shiver through me.
Here he is, after everything.
He came for me.
“It’s been 164 days.”
I frown, confused. “Since what?”
In one swift motion, he releases my hand and presses me against the wall. His palm rests just above my head, fingers splayed. His other hand slides around my waist, pulling me flush against him. His body is solid and warm, exactly as I remember.
“Since I laid eyes on you,” he murmurs, his smoldering gaze dropping to my lips. “Since I touched you.”
The way this man could get under my skin—it was maddening.
Then his mouth finds mine, soft at first, brushing against me like a whisper. But the kiss deepens quickly, hunger taking over as months of longing, of waiting, of missing each other pours into the moment.
I moan into his mouth, it's frenetic and needy, while my bones turn to gold dust.
I slow the kiss down and break away, gasping for air, while burying my face in his chest. His heartbeat thunders beneath my forehead.
“You came for me.”
“I’ve wanted to for the past 164 days,” he says, his arms tightening around me.
“But your life in Grey’s—”
“It doesn’t matter where I live,” he interrupts, cupping my face in his hands. “You want to stay here? I’ll move here. You want a house? I’ll build it for you. You want to live on the fucking moon? I'll go with you.”
His eyes burn alive. “I’d fucking die for you, Dylan.”
I know he would.
I know he'd kill for me, die for me, end the motherfucking world for me.
It's always been him.
I would find him in this lifetime, and the next, and the one after that.
“I love you,” he breathes against my lips. “I love you so fucking much.”
Finally, I tell him what I know he needs to hear, what I've never said. He's earned it.
"I love you."
Three words. A lifetime in the making.
Brax lifts me effortlessly, pressing me firmly against the wall. My legs wrap around his powerful body instinctively, pulling him closer as our mouths fuse together again.
Passionately, without restraint, I welcome him home over and over again.
Silently screaming I love you, I love you, I love you with every roll of my tongue.