Epilogue
Four days later, the blizzard is just a memory. The roads have been plowed, the trees stand clean and majestic in the winter light, and down in the valley, the Christmas lights are still glittering.
Up here, the days unroll one after another, each more blissful than the last—the dogs wake us at dawn, tails drumming against the floorboards.
Holt grumbles, drags himself up to let them out, and I lie there listening to the scrape of his boots on the porch, the jingle of collars, the soft crunch of snow.
The ponies whinny the moment they hear him—spoiled already.
When I join him outside, he’s usually leaning on the fence, coffee in hand, watching them nose through the hay. One of the dogs always ends up with straw in its fur; another sneaks a mouthful of oats when Holt’s not looking.
Inside, the parrot squawks its usual commentary—half insults, half Christmas carols. The cat rules the armchair like a throne, batting at anyone who gets too close.
The cabin smells of woodsmoke, coffee, and fur. There’s always noise—paws on the floorboards, wings fluttering, Holt’s deep laugh when chaos breaks out. I’ve never known anything so alive, or so perfectly ordinary.
Sometimes, when I catch sight of the faint mark on my neck in the mirror, I still can’t quite believe it. But then, his arms go around me, the world quiets, and I know I’m home.
And, pregnant, apparently. Holt says the baby has taken hold.
I have no idea how he knows this, but I’m not going to argue with a man-bear whose senses and instincts are thousands of times sharper than mine.
No, I’m going to enjoy the warmth that spreads through me every time he lays his hand on my belly, and growls, “our little family.”
He hasn’t let me lift a finger since that night. Every time I try, he finds a way to distract me that has nothing to do with chores.
This morning, though, he’s already dressed when I wake, tugging on a clean shirt that somehow makes him look even bigger. There’s a faint smile playing on his lips—one of those secret smiles that says he’s up to something.
“What’s that look for?” I ask, pulling the blanket tighter around me.
“Just thinking how good you look right there,” he says, voice lazy as honey. Then his grin turns sly. “But we’ve got something to do today.”
I stretch, still lazy from sleep. “Is this going to involve actual clothes or can I stay like this?”
He glances back at me, eyes flicking over the blanket and the bare skin above it. “I vote for the blanket,” he says after a pause, “but yeah—you might want clothes. We’re going out.”
“Out?” I echo, blinking. “Where?”
His grin widens. “You’ll see.”
I wrinkle my nose. “You realize I’m not built for suspense before coffee, right?”
“Then we’ll fix that first.” He hands me a mug that’s already waiting on the table, steam curling from it. I take a sip, then squint up at him.
“Okay, mysterious mountain man. Where are we going?”
He tugs on his jacket, that little smile never fading. “To meet my clan.”
The words land like a jolt. “Your clan?”
“New Year’s Eve get-together. Happens every year. My brothers, their mates, a couple of cousins. Bonfire, food, way too much whiskey.” He pauses, eyes searching mine. “They’ll want to meet you.”
My pulse jumps. “They know about me?”
“They know I’ve finally found my mate.”
For a second I can’t find my voice. The idea of walking into a crowd of people who already love him—and being introduced as his—feels huge and a little terrifying.
“They’re going to adore you,” he says. “Especially once they find out you can wrangle a parrot, four dogs, one cat and two ponies before breakfast.”
That makes me laugh, and the tension eases. “Deal.”
The truck growls to life. Holt reaches across the seat and tightens my seat belt, like he doesn’t quite trust it to keep me safe. His hand lingers at my collarbone, thumb brushing my skin. “You know I love you?” he murmurs.
“Maybe?” A smile tugs at my lips. He tells me he loves me a hundred times a day, and I never get tired of hearing it.
“I love you, Lila. More than anything.”
My smile spreads into a grin. “Me too.”
The tires crunch as we start the long descent down the mountain.
I glance at him. One hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on my thigh—warm, heavy, possessive. The flannel he’s wearing stretches over his shoulders; he looks so masculine, so handsome. I don’t think I’ll ever stop drinking him in.
“You’re quiet,” he comments.
“Just thinking.”
“About what?”
I smile faintly. “About meeting the people who created this.” I gesture to him—all six feet plus of stubborn, protective bear.
He chuckles. “You’re gonna charm the fur off them, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, but I’m still human,” I tease. “What if the clan doesn’t accept me?”
That earns me a growl. “You’re not just human. You’re mine. That’s all that matters.”
I bite my lip, warmth unfurling in my chest. “You keep saying that like it’s supposed to calm me down.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“Not even a little.”
He grins and squeezes my thigh. “Then I’ll just have to remind you later.”
The road curves around, and the valley opens below us—golden lights scattered between dark trees, a trail of bonfire smoke twisting into the night. After days of nothing but snow and silence, it looks impossibly alive.
I look out the window, heart thudding, and whisper, “Your clan home.”
His fingers tighten around mine. “And you’re part of it now.”
The lodge comes into view just as twilight settles over the valley—a sprawling timber house strung with lights, smoke curling from the chimney, laughter spilling out through the open doors. Trucks and snowmobiles crowd the yard.
Holt parks at the edge of the clearing and kills the engine. For a second, I just sit there, taking it all in. I can hear kids shouting somewhere nearby, a dog barking, someone calling for more cider. The world feels suddenly big again after our quiet little cabin.
Holt glances at me. “Ready?”
“Yup,” I say, but there’s a tremble in my voice.
He squeezes my hand. “They’ll love you.”
I open the door and step out into a wave of warmth and sound. The cold nips at my cheeks, but before I can even adjust, a man with the same broad shoulders as Holt strides up and claps him on the back.
“Well, look who remembered his clan!” he booms. “Thought you’d gone full hermit.”
Holt grins. “Maybe I just found a reason to come back.”
The man’s eyes flick to me, curiosity quickly turning to amusement. “Ah. This would be the reason.”
Before I can think of a response, another voice calls out, warm and teasing. “Don’t just stand there, bring her inside before she freezes!”
A woman—mid-fifties maybe, with kind eyes and a streak of silver in her braid—sweeps forward, wiping her hands on her apron. She doesn’t hesitate, just pulls me into a hug that smells like cinnamon and warm wool.
“So this is her,” she says against my shoulder. “About time.”
“Mom,” Holt says, half a groan, half a laugh.
She waves him off and holds me at arm’s length, studying me. “Pretty as a sunrise,” she says decisively. “You hungry?”
“Uh—”
A girl about my age steps forward—Holt’s cousin Cynthia, as he introduces her—and presses a mug into my hands. “Cider,” she says with a mischievous grin. “You’ll thank me later.”
I take a sip—sweet, spiced, intoxicating. The warmth hits my chest and spreads all the way out to my fingertips.
Holt stays close, his hand at the small of my back, guiding me through the swirl of people. I feel their glances, their smiles, the friendly nods. He introduces them all—brothers, cousins, clanmates—with a mix of gruff affection and quiet pride.
Watching him like this—relaxed, laughing, utterly in his element—does something to me. I’ve never seen him so at ease. He’s still my mountain bear, all rough edges and growliness, but here he’s part of something bigger, something that feels… right.
When he looks down at me, eyes soft in the firelight, I know he feels it, too.
The music gets a little louder, and laughter ripples through the room. The air is warm and full of joy and life.
I slip out of the immediate bustle and lean against one of the wide timber posts, just watching for a minute.
Holt’s surrounded—two little boys have attached themselves to his legs, shouting something about a bear ride, and he’s growling dramatically, scooping them both up like they weigh nothing. Their shrieks of laughter echo through the hall.
My chest tightens. He used to live like this. Used to belong here.
For the first time, I realize what he gave up when he pulled away from everyone.
A woman joins me, carrying a tray of cookies. She’s a little younger than Holt, with the same strong jaw and sparkling amber eyes.
“Sorry I missed the introductions earlier,” she says, offering them to me. “I was wrangling dinner in the kitchen. I’m Sam—Holt’s sister.”
I instantly warm at the kindness in her eyes. “Hi. I’m Lila.”
Sam smiles, then looks toward the yard, where Holt is tossing one of the boys into a snowbank and catching him again, both of them shouting with laughter.
“Thank you,” she says softly.
I blink. “For what?”
“For bringing him back.” She smiles, watching Holt as he swings one of the boys onto his shoulders. “We’ve been missing this version of him for a long time.”
I can’t speak for a second.
“I didn’t do anything,” I manage.
Sam gives me a knowing look. “Yeah, you did.”
She drifts back toward the others, leaving me standing there with my heart swelling until it almost hurts.
Holt looks up just then, catching my gaze across the room. His grin slips into something deeper—something that says mine without a word spoken.
I smile back, the realization settling in my bones:
I’m not an outsider anymore.
Someone throws open the lodge doors, and a rush of cold air floods in. People start spilling outside, laughing and shouting, drawn toward the bonfire blazing in the clearing.
The firelight paints everything gold—the snow, the trees, the faces of the people I’ve just met but already feel like I’ve known forever. Someone’s passing out sparklers. The crackle of the fire and the rising excitement fills the air.
Holt finds me through the crowd, his big hand closing around mine. “Come on.”
We weave through the laughter until we’re near the flames. The heat licks against my skin, mingling with the icy air, and I shiver—not from cold this time, but from the feeling that I’m right on the cusp of something.
“Ready for a new year?” he murmurs, voice low against my ear.
I tip my head back to look at him. “With you? Always.”
The crowd begins to count. Ten… nine… eight…
Sparks whirl into the sky. The air feels alive, humming with life and joy and the wild pulse of something ancient.
Three… two… one—
The cheer goes up, fireworks burst overhead, and Holt pulls me against him, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that leaves me breathless.
The explosion of color lights his face—gold, red, silver, then gold again—and when I look at him, I see everything we’ve shared, everything still to come.
His hands slide to my waist, holding me like he’ll never let go.
“Happy New Year, my mate,” he whispers against my lips.
“Happy New Year, my bear.”
Fireworks boom above, the crowd roars, dogs bark somewhere in the distance—and at last, I’m exactly where I belong.
THE END