Bonus Epilogue
Shay
Five Years Later
Christmas Eve
The ranch house is a symphony of joyful chatter that only comes when family fills every corner of a space. Laughter, the clatter of dishes, and the occasional squeal of a child chasing a dog through the living room blend with the crackle of the fire in the hearth. Christmas music plays softly in the background, almost drowned out by the chatter.
I pause in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame as I take it all in. Ben is seated in his favorite chair near the fire, holding our one-year-old daughter on his lap while he tells her one of his famous tall tales. Her tiny giggles spill out like a melody, and my heart swells at the sight of her nestled in her grandfather’s arms.
Across the room, Tom and Angus are deep in conversation with their wives, both of whom are trying (and failing) to corral their kids into some semblance of order. It’s a losing battle, and the kids’ delighted shrieks make me smile as they race around the Christmas tree.
And then there’s Henry, standing by the fireplace with a cup of coffee in hand, his gray eyes scanning the room like he’s memorizing every detail. His gaze finds mine, and a slow, secret smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. Even after all this time, that look still sends heat rushing through me.
“Mom, the cookies are done!”
I turn at Max’s announcement. He’s standing on a stool by the counter, proudly holding up a tray of slightly misshapen sugar cookies. He’s five now, all wide grins and endless energy, and I can already see Henry in his strong jawline and determined expression.
“They look perfect,” I say, crossing the room to inspect his handiwork. “You’re getting better at this every year.”
“Think Santa will like them?” he asks, his eyes shining with hope.
“Oh, he’ll love them,” I assure him, ruffling his dark hair. “Especially the ones you decorated.”
“Good, ’cause I made a special one just for him!” He holds up a cookie slathered in so much icing it’s a miracle it hasn’t collapsed under the weight.
I laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and help him down from the stool. “I’m sure Santa will think it’s the best cookie he’s ever had.”
As I place the tray on the counter to cool, I catch sight of my mom sitting quietly at the dining table, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She’s watching the room with a soft smile, her eyes misty as she soaks in the scene.
I make my way over, pulling out a chair beside her. “You okay, Mom?”
She nods, her smile growing as she turns to look at me. “I’m more than okay, Shay. This… all of this… is more than I ever dreamed for you.” Her expression falters for a second, the weight of old pain and regret flashing across her face. But then she straightens, her gaze firm. “Your father made his choices, Shay. And I’ve made mine. I’m proud of you, of the life you’ve built here.”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I’m glad you’re here, Mom. It wouldn’t feel right without you.”
She smiles again, and this time, it’s brighter, freer. “Thank you for bringing me into this, for giving me a chance to be a part of your family.”
“Always,” I say, meaning every word.
Henry’s voice pulls my attention back to the living room. He’s holding Evie now, his broad hands cradling her like she’s the most precious thing in the world. She babbles happily, her tiny hands reaching for the Christmas tree.
“Shay,” he calls, his eyes twinkling. “Come on, we’re about to open the tree presents.”
Tree presents are a tradition we introduced the year Max was born, each member of the family opening one present on Christmas Eve in memory of Ruth, Ben’s wife.
I rise, pulling my mom up with me, and we join the rest of the family by the tree. The room is a whirlwind of wrapping paper and laughter, the kind of mess you never want to clean up because it’s proof of Christmas joy and a life well-lived.
I stand by the window as the evening winds down, watching the snow fall softly outside. Henry joins me, slipping an arm around my waist and pulling me close.
“Happy, love?” he asks, his voice low and warm.
I lean into him, resting my head against his shoulder. “More than I ever thought I could be.”
In this house, surrounded by laughter, I’ve found everything I was searching for. Home. Family. And, most importantly… love.
Thank you for reading Auctioned to the Cowboy.