Epilogue - Sadie
ONE MONTH LATER
The Deepwood Mountain Fall Festival is in full swing, and I'm beyond restless with nervous energy.
I stand next to Ledger at the beer garden's main tent as his hand engulfs mine.
I know he’s just as anxious as I am to hear the results of the contest because I feel his racing heart through my fingers.
"Stop bouncing," he murmurs, with a smile. "You're making Bear dizzy."
I glance down at the black lab sitting perfectly still at our feet, tongue lolling in what looks suspiciously like a doggy grin. "Bear's fine. You're the one who keeps checking the time on your phone."
"I'm not—" He stops, catches himself mid-phone-check, and scowls. "Shut up."
I laugh, rising on my toes to kiss his scruffy jaw.
A month of being together, and I still can’t get enough of him.
The past four weeks have been a whirlwind of adjustments. I've kept my apartment in town, but I spend more nights at the cabin than not. One of my uniforms hangs in his closet next to his flannels and my favorite coffee mug…
Park Ranger: Like a regular law enforcement officer, but much cooler
…sits in his cabinet.
Bear has decided my side of the bed is actually his side of the bed, which leads to interesting nightly negotiations.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" The festival coordinator's voice booms through the microphone, making everyone in the tent turn toward the small stage. "It's time to announce the winner of our annual Home Brewed Beer Contest!"
Ledger's hand tightens on mine and I squeeze back, my heart back at full-throttle.
He entered this contest to prove something to himself, to take that first step back into the world. But somewhere along the way, it became about more than that. It became about him believing he deserves good things again.
"Third place goes to..." The coordinator pauses dramatically. "Harriet Blake for her Lavender Wheat Ale!"
Polite applause fills the tent. Harriet, who runs the local tack and feed store, accepts her ribbon with a bright smile.
"Second place...Griff Pierce's Apple Cider IPA!"
More applause. Griff whoops and pumps his fist, nearly knocking over his own beer display. Then his wife, Stevie, jumps into his arms for a kiss.
My stomach clenches. First or nothing now.
"And our grand prize winner, taking home five hundred dollars and the honor of having their beer featured at next year's festival..."
The pause feels eternal. Ledger's gone completely still beside me, like he's forgotten how to breathe.
"Ledger Ford for his Truffle Huckleberry Stout!"
The tent erupts. People are clapping, cheering, and Ledger just stands there, stunned. I throw my arms around his neck, and he catches me automatically, still looking dazed.
"You did it," I say against his ear. "You won!"
"I..." He blinks, then the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen spreads across his handsome face. Not his usual careful half-smile, but something full and unguarded and purely joyful. "Holy shit, I won."
"Go get your prize!" I push him toward the stage, and Bear barks encouragement, tail wagging and body wiggling.
Ledger walks to the stage like he's in a dream. The coordinator hands him the trophy—a heavy golden beer stein that's going to look perfect on the cabin's mantel—and an envelope with the prize money.
People surge forward to congratulate him, to ask about his brewing process, and to request bottles.
And Ledger...handles it. He answers questions, accepts congratulations, even manages some small talk. The hermit who ran from me in the woods a month ago is standing in a crowd, sharing his passion with strangers who see him as just a talented brewer.
Not an ex-con. Not someone to fear. Just Ledger.
"That your man?" A voice beside me asks.
I turn to find Mrs. Davidson, one of the older town gossips, eyeing me with undisguised curiosity. Word's gotten around about the park ranger and the mountain man, because of course it has. Small towns don't keep secrets.
"Yes," I say simply, proudly. "That's my man."
She purses her lips, clearly fishing for drama. "Heard he's got a record."
"He protected his sister from an abuser," I say calmly, meeting her gaze steadily. "Went too far, did his time, and has spent eight years becoming someone remarkable. He’s the gentlest man I’ve ever known. And that beer he made? It's superb."
She huffs, giving me a look. But obviously robbed of her scandal, she moves on to easier prey.
Ledger returns to my side, trophy in one hand. People keep stopping him, wanting to talk about his beer and about entering next year's contest. Even Brody, the owner of the Rustic Ridge Bar chats with him briefly. He's overwhelmed—I can see it in the tightness around his eyes—but he's not running.
"Want to get out of here?" I ask during a lull.
"God, yes." The relief in his voice makes me smile.
We escape to his truck, Bear immediately claiming the middle of the bench seat. I scratch his ears while Ledger sets his trophy carefully in a cushioned box on the floor.
"So," he says, starting the engine. "Are your brothers really coming for Christmas?"
I laugh at the dread in his voice. "Yes, all three of them. They need someplace to go since Mom and Dad decided to take a Christmas cruise to Mexico. I’ll have to rent a bigger cabin nearby since we don’t exactly have space for guests. But it’ll be fun, you’ll see.”
"Four law enforcement officers. With me. At Christmas." He looks physically pained. "Sadie, they're going to hate me."
"They're not," I assure him. "Okay, Harlon might try to intimidate you because he thinks that's his job as the oldest. And Kade will definitely run a more thorough background check than necessary. And Jayce...actually, Jayce will probably just challenge you to an arm-wrestling match."
"Great." He pulls onto the main road, heading home. To our home, really, even if we haven't put an official label on it yet. "How do I prepare for an invasion of overprotective testosterone?"
"Make more beer," I suggest. “But they're going to love you," I tell him, taking his free hand. "Maybe not immediately. But eventually, because I love you and because you're good for me. They’ll see that."
"You're good for me, too," he says softly. "Better than I deserve."
"Hey." I squeeze his hand. "We talked about this. You deserve good things, Ledger. You deserve happiness and success and family and—"
"And a park ranger who rocks my world?"
“Exactly." I grin.
We pull up to the cabin as the sun sets, the mountains just silhouettes against splashes of gold and purple.
It looks different now than it did that first storm-soaked night.
There's a second chair on the porch. Wind chimes I hung last week.
And a welcome mat Bear keeps dragging into the woods because he thinks it's a chew toy.
"Move in with me," Ledger says suddenly, killing the engine. "Officially. Keep your apartment if you want, but...be here. With me and Bear. Make this home."
I turn to look at him fully. This sexy beast of a man who saved me from a storm and then let me save him from his self-imposed exile.
"On one condition," I say.
His eyebrows rise. "What?"
“You build a big brewing room to add on to the cabin.”
He chuckles, because we’ve already talked about him growing his brewing business. “You got it, baby.”
Bear barks, demanding attention and dinner and probably wondering why we're still sitting in the truck when there's a perfectly good cabin right there.
"Come on," I say, opening my door. "You've got a victory beer to drink, and I've got a mountain man to properly celebrate with."
"Properly celebrate?" His eyes darken with interest.
"So properly that Bear's going to have to sleep on the couch."
Bear whines in protest, but Ledger's already out of the truck, trophy in one hand, my waist caught in the other as he pulls me against him.
"I love you," he says against my mouth. "Thank you for crashing into my life."
"Thank you for saving me from that storm."
"We saved each other," he corrects, and kisses me as the first stars appear over the mountains.