Epilogue - Colby #2
Music floated from a speaker Bree had borrowed from the shop, something soft and unobtrusive, just enough to say this was a ceremony and not another construction meeting.
The melody wove through the evening air like a promise, mixing with the rustle of leaves and the distant call of birds settling in for the night.
Colby took his place at the front, under the arch he had helped build with his own hands.
The wood was solid beneath the greenery, sturdy and true, and he let himself draw strength from that.
His palms were damp despite his best efforts, and he wiped them discreetly on his trousers and told himself to breathe.
Brian stood to his left, spine straight and expression surprisingly serious for a man who usually couldn't resist a joke. Hank took his place on Colby's right, solid as always, a steady presence that had anchored him through more hard moments than he could count.
"Still zero?" Hank murmured, barely moving his lips.
"Zero," Colby confirmed. "Unless falling over counts as bolting. Because my knees feel like they might have opinions about staying upright."
"Not allowed," Brian said from his other side. "I've got money on you making it through this without incident. Don't let me down."
The music shifted, the melody changing from background ambiance to something more purposeful, more significant.
Everyone turned.
Sabrina stepped out from between the trees at the edge of the path, her hand resting lightly on Bree's arm.
For a moment, everything else blurred. The chairs full of people, the string lights, the arch, the cabins glowing behind him, all of it faded to soft focus, leaving only her.
She wore a dress that followed her lines without swallowing her, nothing fussy or overdone, just simple and clean with a skirt that swayed gently when she moved, catching the last of the daylight like water.
Her hair was half up, half down, soft waves pinned back with tiny clips that caught the light and scattered it in small sparks.
The bouquet she had chosen in the flower shop, the one she had held onto through everything that happened that day, rested in her grip, soft coral and white blooms nestled against green stems.
She looked at him like he was the only thing in the field. Like everything else, the people, the decorations, the weight of the past year, had narrowed down to this single point of connection.
His chest hurt in the best way, a pressure that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the sheer overwhelming fact of her.
Bree kept her pace slow, matching Sabrina's steps, giving her time to breathe, to take it all in. Halfway down the aisle, Bree leaned in and whispered something that made Sabrina laugh, the sound brief and bright, a flash of joy that cut through the solemnity of the moment.
Diaz watched from near the back, her gaze scanning the crowd even now, but a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
When Sabrina reached the front, Bree kissed her cheek, a gesture full of tenderness, then handed her off to Colby with a look that clearly said, Take care of her. I will end you if you don't.
"I will," he murmured, quiet enough that only Bree could hear.
She nodded once, satisfied, and stepped back to take her place among the witnesses.
Colby turned to face Sabrina, taking her hands in his. Her fingers were cool against his palms, trembling just slightly, and he wrapped his own around them, steadying her the way she had steadied him so many times before.
The officiant, a local judge Kara had strong-armed into service through means Colby suspected he didn't want to know about, cleared his throat and began.
Colby barely heard the opening words. His attention was fixed on Sabrina's face, on the way she looked at him, on the ring he had placed on her finger months ago when he went to one knee in cabin three and asked her to spend her life with him.
Her fingers tightened once in his grip, quick, like a signal, like she was saying I'm here, I'm ready, I'm not going anywhere.
"Repeat after me," the judge said, his voice carrying across the gathering. "I, Colby…"
He did.
He promised to show up, every day, in every way that mattered.
To stand beside her when things were good and when they were hard.
To tell her the truth even when it was messy, even when it would be easier to stay quiet.
To fix what he could with his own hands and call for backup when they needed more than he had to give.
The words came out rough, catching on the emotion lodged in his throat, but he meant every single one.
When it was Sabrina's turn, her voice shook on the first word, a tremor that made his heart clench. Then it steadied, finding its footing the way she always did.
"I, Sabrina, promise to argue with you about tile and faucet finishes until one of us surrenders or we both forget what we were fighting about.
To remind you that you are not a machine, that rest is not weakness, that asking for help is not failure.
To make lists you will pretend to hate and secretly rely on when you think I'm not looking.
" Her voice caught, steadied again. "I promise to build this life with you, plank by plank, day by day, even when it feels like we're starting from ashes.
Especially then. Because that's where the best things grow. "
Soft laughter broke through the gathered crowd, the sound warm and knowing. Colby's throat burned with something he couldn't name, something too big to fit into words.
By the time the judge reached the part about rings, his vision had blurred at the edges.
Sabrina slid a band onto his finger, her hand sure and steady now, the metal warm from where she had been holding it. "You're stuck with me now," she said softly, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "No returns. No exchanges. All sales final."
"Good," he said, his voice rough. "That's exactly how I want it."
"By the power vested in me by the state of South Carolina," the judge said, a smile breaking through his professional demeanor, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."
He did.
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her like he meant it, like she was the only thing that had ever mattered, like every hard day and sleepless night had been worth it for this single moment.
Applause rose around them, a wave of sound that made the little clearing feel too small and exactly right at the same time.
Someone whistled, probably Brian. Someone was definitely crying, probably Kara.
And somewhere in the back, Diaz was watching with that small, satisfied smile that meant all was right with her corner of the world.
Later, under a sky that had dimmed enough for the string lights to come into their own, they ate and laughed and leaned into the people who had refused to let them fight alone.
Food covered tables that had been set up between the cabins, dishes brought by neighbors and friends, and a few people Colby didn't recognize but who had apparently heard about the wedding and wanted to contribute anyway.
That was Copper Moon, he was learning. A place where people showed up without being asked and stayed longer than expected.
Hank raised his glass, the amber liquid catching the string lights.
"To two very stubborn people," he said, his voice carrying across the gathering.
"May they always aim that stubborn in the same direction.
May they fight for each other as hard as they've fought for this land.
And may they never, ever ask me to build another arch, because my back hasn't forgiven me yet. "
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
Bree followed, climbing onto a chair because she said it gave her better emotional projection.
Her dress swirled around her ankles as she steadied herself, glass raised high.
"To my dear friend Sabrina, who thinks she can out-plan fate and sometimes actually manages it.
To the woman who stood in the ashes of everything she'd built and decided to build again instead of walking away.
And to the man who saw her standing in a field of ruins and said, 'Sure, we can work with this.' I love you both. Now, let’s watch the sunset together.”
More laughter, warmer this time, full of recognition and affection.
Brian's toast was shorter, delivered from his feet with a glass that might have been slightly overfilled.
"To the cabins," he said. "To the bike shop.
To Copper Moon and everyone in it who made this possible.
And to the fact that if anyone ever tries to mess with any of that again, they now have to deal with a whole lot of us.
And I mean a lot. We've got numbers now. "
Diaz wandered over near the end of the toasts, her dress clothes still intact despite the long day. There was something lighter in her posture than usual, a looseness in her shoulders that spoke of relief.
"Court ran long," she said by way of greeting. "Turns out paperwork multiplies like rabbits when you arrest corporate creeps with expensive lawyers."
"How's Gavin?" Bree asked, her voice pitched too sweetly to be innocent.
"In custody," Diaz said, satisfaction threading through each word. "And unlikely to attend any weddings without a very different dress code for quite some time."
Sabrina's shoulders dropped a fraction more, a layer of tension Colby hadn't even noticed she was still carrying sliding away like water off stone. He reached over and took her hand, threading his fingers through hers, and felt her squeeze back.
As the night wound down, people drifted toward their cars or the guest cabins that had been prepared for those staying over.
Hank disappeared toward the parking area with Bree on his arm, the two of them arguing good-naturedly about whose idea the arch had really been and who deserved credit for its success.