Epilogue
Sumner
eight months later
Life had become much calmer over the past months, and I had just reached five months without a panic attack. It was all Sly’s doing. He never pushed me to “move on,” and whenever I needed him to, he sat and listened.
He was still so careful around me, always aware of what might set me off or could upset me, but I knew that was simply who he was. He cared for me in ways big and small, and I loved him for it.
A few weeks ago, we found a small house in a town a few hours away.
It was located somewhere quiet and close to nature, and when we saw it for the first time, we knew we had to have it.
It was just what we needed, and after only a day of thinking it all through, we decided to sign the lease.
We’d move in two months, and I had already packed up more than half of my apartment because of how excited I was.
The thought of leaving this place felt strange, but I knew it was for the best. It was time to leave it all behind. I was ready to start somewhere new with Sly, and with a life that finally felt safe.
I sank into the couch after checking on the roast chicken in the oven, and let my thoughts drift for a moment, imagining what it would be like to unpack boxes in a quiet house surrounded by trees.
Just as I got comfortable, the door clicked open, and Sly stepped in, holding a folder in his hands. He paused in the doorway, narrowing his eyes and sniffing the air. “Chicken?”
I laughed and nodded. “Yeah, it’s in the oven. It’ll be ready soon.”
He looked all pleased as he locked the door before he came to sit on the couch next to me. “Hey,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to my lips.
“Hey,” I replied. “What’s this?”
I watched him hold the folder like it was fragile. The grin on his face told me nothing specific. Mischief mixed with pride and a kind of nervous excitement that made me sit up straighter. I pulled my legs up under me on the couch and nudged him. “What is it?” I asked. “Come on, tell me.”
He set the folder down on his knees and paused, fingers resting on the cover. He took a breath, looked at the folder, then met my eyes. “Okay,” he said slowly, “but you can’t judge me.”
I gave him a mock glare and laughed. “This isn’t a folder full of your nudes, is it?”
“You wish,” he said, then laughed and shook his head. “No. It’s not that. It’s…more personal.”
He handed it over. The weight of it felt heavier than I expected. I ran my thumb along the edge, looked at the cover, then opened to the first page. For a second I only took in the title centered at the top.
Supergirl
A Novel
Written by Sly Webb
Then the words landed.
“You wrote a book.” It wasn’t a question. He’d talked about writing a book before, but I hadn’t known he’d actually started, let alone finished anything.
He nodded a little sheepishly, but mostly proud. “Yeah. It’s for you.”
My fingers hovered over the words again. The title made my stomach flip, and I felt astonished. “For me?” I whispered.
“Yeah,” he said. “You inspired me. What you went through…how you got through it, I just felt this insane urge to put it on paper. I wanted you to have it, in case you ever needed to read it and remember you’re not defined by what happened to you.”
I looked up at him, trying to sort through the surprise and the sudden emotions taking over my body and mind. “But…why?”
“Because I saw you fight and survive and keep being you. I wanted you to see it written down the way I see it, and for you to have all the promises I ever made on something you can actually grasp and see.”
My heart exploded while he spoke, and I couldn’t control the tears rolling down my cheeks as I understood the depth and meaning of this book he wrote. I had yet to read it, but the title and his explanation alone made me an emotional wreck.
“You’re…God, you’re just so…” I choked on my words, unable to get them out.
“I know, I’m pretty damn great,” he teased with a cocky grin.
He knew exactly how to make me laugh. I jokingly punched him in the shoulder and shook my head. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”
At the bottom of the first page there was a short note in his handwriting which I had missed on the first glance.
Sumner, in case you ever forget how strong you are. Read it when you need to. I love you, Sly.
I let the folder fall closed and looked at him. “This is the best thing anyone’s ever done for me,” I said, my voice thick. I pushed myself up and wrapped my arms around him. He hugged me back and held me close the way only he could.
“I can’t wait to read it,” I whispered against his neck before pressing a kiss to his skin. I was still so stunned by the fact that he had written a full novel just for me.
“Good. And while you’re at it,” he said, leaning back slightly to look at me. “Will you check for spelling mistakes?”
That was yet another attempt to make me laugh, and I rolled my eyes at his request. “You’re impossible.”
He grinned. “You’re an editor. I figured while you’re already reading it, you can give me feedback about my writing.”
I laughed softly. “Of course I will,” I said. “But not on the first read. The first time, I just want to enjoy it. I want to read it the way you meant it.”
He smiled and brushed his thumb across my cheek. “Fair enough.”
“Thank you,” I then said, getting serious again. “You’re the love of my life, and I owe so much to you.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” He cupped my face with both hands and pulled me closer to kiss my lips. “You already give me everything.”
Everything I’d been through, every pain and every moment of doubt, had led me here. To this. To him.
This was it. With him was where I needed to be.
He was my home.