Epilogue
Sam
Christmas in Havenwood had always been a lot.
The town didn’t do casual when it came to the holidays.
Fresh pine garlands and twinkling lights wrapped around every lamppost in the Rivermere District, wreaths adorning every front door, big velvet bows tied at their centers, and Christmas trees twinkling in café windows.
Snow dusted the sidewalks, the air carried the faint spice of cinnamon and pine.
The Green Bean Café had its annual hot cocoa bar up and running, and Stag & Lantern was busier than ever, holiday parties filling the space with laughter and warm, spiced whiskey in heavy glasses.
It was cozy. Familiar. The kind of thing that made you breathe a little easier, settle in a little deeper.
And tonight?
Tonight was even better.
Jules and Elliott’s place was warm in a way that had nothing to do with the crackling fire in the hearth throwing flickering shadows across the walls.
The scent of cinnamon and woodsmoke curled through the air, mingling with the rich, buttery aroma of the cookies Callie had baked earlier.
The Christmas tree twinkled in the corner, soft golden light reflecting off ornaments that ranged from classy and traditional to deeply offensive inside jokes as the branches shifted from the draft of people moving around the room.
Voices filled the space, laughter, the occasional debate over what Christmas movie should go on next, the clinking of glasses, the scrape of plates being set down.
Even Maxie Glam was there tonight, sans drag, which meant Max (though we still called him Maxie) was sharp-tongued and unapologetically glittery in spirit even out of heels.
He was lounging on the loveseat in jeans and a cozy sweater, sipping something with bourbon in it and snorting at one of Avery’s stories.
He didn’t often make appearances outside the Rainbow Taproom, but tonight he was firmly planted in the mix, a subtle reminder of the community’s roots.
Presents, if you could call them that, were scattered across the floor, remnants of the annual white elephant exchange.
Jordan was still clutching the ridiculous (but admittedly kind of amazing) “Daddy” mug he’d stolen from Renzo, while “Young Max” was dramatically bemoaning the fact that he had, for the third year in a row, somehow ended up with a gag gift that was, in his words, “completely useless but just too specific to regift.”
This year, it was a hot pink Snuggie with a giant print of Dolly Parton’s face on it.
“You bitches did this on purpose,” Max accused, clutching the fleece monstrosity in his lap.
“Incorrect,” Liam said cheerfully. “I personally orchestrated it. This is what happens when you’re mean to bartenders during Mercury retrograde.”
Max groaned. “I swear to God… ”
“Relax,” Callie cackled. “It goes great with your gym thirst trap aesthetic.”
Max narrowed their eyes. “One day, I’m gonna win this game. One day, I’ll leave with something actually good.”
Noah snorted from his spot in Evan’s lap. “We tried to steal you the fancy whiskey, but you were the one who wouldn’t let go of Dolly.”
Max grumbled something unintelligible under his breath but still hugged the Snuggie a little tighter.
Laughter spilled through the room, voices overlapping, warmth settling deep in my chest.
And through it all, Liam.
Five minutes ago he’d been perched on the arm of the chair doing a wildly exaggerated reenactment of Max’s white elephant betrayal, complete with accents and dramatic hand gestures.
Before that, he’d somehow ended up behind the kitchen island helping Jules plate cookies like he’d been assigned a very serious mission.
Now he was back beside me, like gravity eventually pulled him where he wanted to be.
I felt him before I saw him. His presence was warm and solid beside me on the couch, his fingers lazily tracing patterns over my knee, his eyes still tracking half the room like he was clocking punchlines in advance.
Not tense or hesitant. Just there. Like this was normal now.
Like he had finally let himself be here.
I leaned back against him slightly, my fingers threading through his, my body instinctively settling into his space.
If someone had told me a few months ago that we’d end up here, I don’t know if I would have believed it.
Not because I didn’t want it.
But because Liam had spent so damn long convincing himself that he couldn’t.
And yet, here he was. Holding my hand. In front of everyone.
It was subtle, sure. But it was Liam, and subtle was a fucking miracle.
And maybe I was allowing myself to believe it was real now.
Because Liam had done the work.
He hadn’t just shoved his way back into my life like nothing happened.
He’d apologized. Genuinely. And not just to me, but to everyone.
Callie. Ezra. Noah, Evan, Max. Renzo. Harper, Avery, Tess, Jules, Elliott, and Jordan.
Even Maxie Glam got an apology. One by one, he’d sat down with them, owned up to how he’d acted, how he’d lashed out, how he’d treated them, and me, like shit.
He hadn’t made excuses. Hadn’t tried to charm his way through it. Just… owned it.
And that?
That was why I was here.
That was why I was his.
Because as much as Liam Carter could be a reckless, stubborn, flirty pain in the ass, he was trying.
And I loved him for that.
“You’re staring, Ortiz,” Liam murmured, voice low, taunting.
I smiled. “You love it.”
Liam smirked, pressing a quick, sweet kiss to my temple. “You love it.”
“Alright, alright,” Maxie groaned, flopping dramatically against the couch. “I have to say it, this year’s Havenwood holiday crew is looking suspiciously drama-free.”
Jordan scoffed from across the room, arms crossed. “Speak for yourself. I’m still recovering from my last dating disaster.”
“Recovering from a guy you dumped?” Callie pointed out over the rim of their wine glass.
Jordan sighed. “Details.”
Noah snorted from his spot in Evan’s lap. “At least you have disasters. Evan and I are, what, thriving? Never thought I’d say that.”
Evan grinned, nuzzling into his neck. “Miracles do happen, babe.”
Sam leaned over toward Maxie, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh, by the way, Brenda the Reindeer has officially donned all her gay apparel over at the Stag and Lantern. She’s been Maxi-fied for the holidays.”
Maxie clutched his chest like he’d been personally serenaded by Mariah Carey. “Stop it. Is she glittering?”
“Glitter, feathers, rhinestones, and a tiny faux-fur stole.”
“Brenda is a queen, and I see her.” Maxie turned to the group, arms wide. “Let it be known that if I die before New Year’s, I want to be cremated and scattered at her hooves.”
“She is an icon,” Tess added, sipping from her wine. “Honestly, it’s her era now. Brenda’s the moment.”
Ezra nodded solemnly. “The gays wish they had her commitment to seasonal excellence.”
“Oh please,” Avery chimed in, laughing. “She’s Maxie’s drag daughter and you know it. All rhinestones, no apologies, and always center stage.”
Max raised a hand dramatically. “You’re all just afraid she’s coming for Maxie’s crown. A holiday usurpation. Head queen of Havenwood? Brenda’s got ambition.”
Maxie beamed, soaking in the adoration like it was stage light and thunderous applause. “Let her come, darling. It’s about time I had a worthy rival.”
Noah flashed Maxie a glare that would turn Medusa to stone. Maxie didn’t miss a bit, nor did he look up at Noah when he said, “I see you, Patel. Mother knows when her children are casting evil spells with their gorgeous eyes. It seems an animatronic reindeer queen has surpassed you, my dear.”
Noah jumped up, dramatically crossed the room, and made his way behind the couch where Maxie sat.
He put one arm around him and held out mistletoe with the other.
He said, “‘Tis the season, mama!” He then kissed Maxie right on the cheek.
Maxie raised an arm to pull Noah tighter as he squealed with laughter.
Jules, curled up next to Elliott on the couch, rolled his eyes. “Alright, before this turns into another fucking Jonathan Bennett Hallmark special, someone put on a movie before I die.”
Renzo grabbed the remote. “If you bitches think we’re watching anything other than Die Hard—”
“IT’S NOT A CHRISTMAS MOVIE,” Max and Ezra shouted in unison.
“Blasphemy,” Renzo declared.
Liam gasped. “If Die Hard is a Christmas movie then Mean Girls is a religious text and I will die on that hill.”
I laughed. “You give lots of queer vibes, Renzo. Like… all the time. And then you say things like that, and you leave very little doubt.”
Renzo blinked, genuinely caught off guard for half a second.
Then he smirked.
He shot me a wink, blew me a kiss, and said, “What can I say? I like to keep the people guessing.”
I chuckled, shaking my head, letting my body relax into Liam’s warmth.
And for the first time in weeks, I wasn’t worried about what came next.
I wasn’t guarding myself.
I wasn’t bracing for disappointment.
I was here.
With him.
With all of them.
With family.
I turned slightly, meeting Liam’s eyes just as he leaned in and brushed his lips against my temple. His eyes were warm, steady, a little amused.
I tipped my chin up, just enough for our lips to meet in a quick kiss.
A few months ago, this would have felt impossible.
Now?
It just felt right.
Liam leaned forward to steal a cookie off Jules’s plate, got swatted, stole it anyway, and popped it into his mouth like a victorious raccoon before settling back beside me.
Maxie, was curled up with a glass of spiked cider and a strand of tinsel draped dramatically around his neck like a boa, leaned toward us with a mischievous smile.
“Alright, lovebirds, what’d you two get each other for Christmas?
Don’t tell me it was matching flannel pajamas and a promise not to fuck it up. ”
Sam chuckled, squeezing my hand. “Actually, no gifts this year.”
Maxie raised a perfectly sculpted brow.
“We’re taking a trip instead,” Sam said. “Just the two of us. A week at this gay campground down in Florida. Warmer weather. Fewer layers. Lots of hot country boys in very little clothing.”
“I will be shirtless within twelve minutes of arrival,” Liam announced. “For emotional reasons.”
Callie made a face from across the room. “Gross.”
“Don’t pretend like you wouldn’t be into it if they wore boots, sleeveless muscle shirts, and backwards hats,” Jules shot back, laughing.
“I mean,” Jordan added, “why wouldn’t we all go? Think about it. Winter road trip. Queer getaway. Tacky tourist stops. Matching speedos.”
Ezra raised his glass. “I’d drive the first leg. I’ve got the playlist ready.”
Avery chimed in, “We can call it Gays Gone Mild: RV Edition.”
I held up a hand, laughing. “Okay, okay. Maybe next time. But this trip? This one’s just for us.”
Maxie made a low, dramatic hum of approval, then reached for my hand and kissed the back of it with surprising tenderness. “Merry Christmas, boys,” he said with a wink at Sam. “Take care of each other.”
Liam grinned, clearly pleased with himself, his fingers tightening around mine. “Merry Christmas, Sammy. Our gift to each other is country boys in boots, sleeveless muscle shirts, and backwards hats. Merry Christmas to me!”
I rolled my eyes and laughed, shaking my head. “Shut up and watch the damn movie, Carter.”
His laughter rumbled low in his chest, and I swore I felt it all the way to my bones.
And that was the thing, wasn’t it?
I had spent so long wanting him. Wanting this.
And now?
We weren’t fighting it anymore.
Now, we were finally choosing each other.
I nuzzled into him and softly said, “Merry Christmas, Liam.”