Epilogue
Maverick
It’s been three years since one weekend and one Valentine’s Day Auction rearranged my whole life.
A month after that, Nova stood in Lovesbury City Hall in a simple white dress, hands shaking, chin lifted like she was daring the world to doubt her.
Evelyn Hartwood cried like she’d personally invented romance.
Mayor Hartwood officiated with a cautious solemnity while his wife beamed through her tears.
Nova squeezed my hand.
I squeezed back.
And just like that, I knew I was hers. Completely. No going back.
Her ex never came back. Maybe he got the message. Maybe he didn’t. I don’t care. If he ever comes back, I’ll handle it.
What I do care about is that Nova built a life and a business with both hands and no apology.
It started with one scared stray that showed up that first spring. Then a cat. Then a rabbit. Then a limping old hound dumped at the edge of town. Then a half-frozen litter of puppies that would’ve died if Nova hadn’t found them.
One by one, they came.
Until it wasn’t just a habit.
It was a full rescue. Real. Loud. Constant.
She named it Silverpine Rescue, after the river and the trail.
Last summer, I built the bigger barn. Put up the fenced run and the little shelter beyond it. Heated kennels. Strong latches. The kind of work that turns love into something you can lean on.
That was then.
Now, it’s morning, and the cabin is warm while the world outside tries to freeze solid.
The light hits the snow like it’s attempting to be gentle about it.
It fails.
Inside, the fire crackles low. Hot cocoa steams in a mug on the counter, and the place smells like chocolate and comfort.
Nova stands at the kitchen counter in one of my shirts, barefoot, hair piled up messy, humming like she doesn’t have a care in the world.
She does.
She just carries them different now.
She’s six months pregnant, and she has that glow that makes me feel stupid because I still don’t know what to do with how much I love her. Like my chest is too small to hold it.
Nugget is stationed at her feet like a sentry. Three years and five months old now. Bigger, sturdier, still a menace. Still thinks he owns the cabin. Still thinks he owns us.
Nova moves to the couch and sits. I follow her and drop down beside her, and Nugget hops up after us, planting himself against her belly like the baby is his personal responsibility.
“You’re going to suffocate the child before it even gets here,” I mutter.
Nugget blinks at me like I’m the unreasonable one.
Nova snorts. “He’s protecting his sibling.”
“He’s not his sibling.”
“Of course he is,” she says, and I hear the smile in her voice.
I pull her closer against my side and slide my hand over her belly. Nova leans into me with a soft sound.
Then the baby kicks. Hard.
I freeze.
It hits again.
My throat tightens.
Nova laughs, all warmth and mischief. “Told you. Our kid’s strong.”
“Our kid,” I repeat, like I’m testing the words for cracks.
She looks over her shoulder, green eyes bright. “Yes, Maverick. Your kid. The one you helped make.”
I keep my hand there because I can’t stop. I’m addicted to the proof.
Proof that the quiet cabin I built for one has turned into a place where something new is growing.
Proof that I didn’t screw up my chance at happiness.
She turns, reaches up, and cups my cheek like it belongs to her.
“You’re quiet,” she says gently. “In your head again.”
I catch her wrist and kiss her palm. “I’m just…”
“Happy?” she offers, soft.
I pull her close and press my lips to her forehead. “Yeah. Happier than I ever knew how to want.”
Her voice is steady. “You deserve to want it. You deserve to have it. I do too.”
The baby shifts again under my palm, another kick, like it’s agreeing with her.
Nugget immediately sits up straighter, like he felt it too.
Nova watches me watch the belly, her expression softening into something that makes my chest ache.
“You’re going to be a good dad,” she says.
I swallow.
“I’m going to try,” I say, because trying is the only promise I trust.
Nova’s eyes shine. “You already are.”
I pull her closer and hold her like she’s the axis of my life.
Because she is.
“I still can’t believe you bought me at an auction,” I murmur into her hair.
Nova laughs against my chest. “Best impulse purchase I ever made.”
“I wasn’t an impulse.”
“You were,” she says brightly. “I saw you and my brain went blank.”
“That’s concerning.”
“It’s romantic,” she corrects.
I huff a laugh, low.
“You were a bargain,” she adds.
I lift a brow. “Excuse me.”
“Four hundred dollars,” she says, smug as hell. “For all this.”
She gestures down my body like she’s appraising me.
I bite back a smile. “I’m priceless.”
Nova’s grin turns soft “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
***
THE END