Epilogue
Jo
Christmas morning, I woke to warmth.
Not the stove-heat kind, though the farmhouse vents were rattling softly, but the Nate kind—the kind that soaked into the sheets and quilt and the space behind my ribs.
His side of the bed was still warm, the indentation of his body a perfect curve leading straight to the edge where he sat now, facing me.
He held out a mug.
“Morning,” he said, voice low and sleep-rough. “Merry Christmas.”
I pushed my hair out of my face and sat up, dragging the quilt with me. “Coffee in bed? Now I have to marry you.”
“Good,” he said, handing it over. “I’d hate to have to kidnap you twice.”
I chuckled. The mug was hot in my hands, steam curling up into the early light. Outside the curtains, the world was pale and bright, the sky glowing the way it only did after fresh snow.
Nate sat there watching me and I could feel that he wanted to tell me. “Nate?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, a tell that used to mean he was about to argue with me and now meant he was about to open up. “I need to tell you something.”
My spine went tight before I could stop it. Years of instinct, of bracing for the next blow, the next disaster, the next moment everything changed.
He saw my reaction and immediately his hand found my ankle under the quilt, grounding me with warmth and gentleness. “Hey,” he said softly. “Nothing bad. I promise.”
I exhaled, tension diffusing just enough for me to nod. “Okay. Tell me.”
He shifted, bringing one knee up onto the mattress so he faced me fully. His expression was earnest. Careful. A little nervous.
“You know how much Martin loves Thunder and Lightning.”
I snorted. “Please. The man would put their baby pictures on his Christmas cards if he could.”
“He probably will now,” Nate muttered. Then he met my eyes. “I gave them to him.”
I blinked. “You . . . what?”
“I signed them over,” he said. “Paperwork done. Official. They’re his now.”
A soft ache pressed against my sternum. Thunder and Lightning had been Silas’s pride. His gifting them to someone else felt like a closing of a door.
“They love it there,” Nate said. “Plus Martin’s kids and his grandkids . . . they light up around these horses.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I know Silas bought them for me, but they’re where they want to be.”
A lump formed in my throat.
“Oh, Nate . . .” I whispered. “That’s beautiful.”
Relief softened his features. He hadn’t been worried about my approval—not exactly—but he’d wanted to honor something sacred, and he’d wanted me to understand.
And I did.
“I got myself a Christmas present too,” he said, voice shifting with something boyish and proud.
“Oh really?” I asked, sipping my coffee. “What’d you get?”
He sat up straighter, like a five-year-old showing off a prize. “A truck.”
I blinked. “A truck.”
“A real one,” he said, warming to the subject. “Big bed. Can haul hay. Has mud flaps and everything.”
I fought a smile. “Wow. Very rugged. Very lumberjack of you.”
“Thank you,” he wiggled his eyebrows. “I thought you might like that.”
“I do.” I was still laughing when his expression changed again—softer and uncertain.
“There’s one more present,” he said. “I wasn’t sure if I should surprise you with it, but I think I want to tell you.”
“You’re on a roll,” I teased. “Hit me.”
“It arrives tomorrow.”
“It?”
“They,” he corrected. “They arrive tomorrow.” He hesitated. “I got them for you. For me. For us.”
My pulse fluttered. “What did you possibly order that comes in plural?”
He exhaled slowly, glancing toward the window where the barn roof peeked through a drift of snow.
“Martin was talking about Silas last night,” he said.
“About how this place felt like a sanctuary. A soft landing. For me. For Silas. Especially for the older draft horses Silas had a soft spot for. Animals who’d worked their whole lives and were ready to retire somewhere quiet.
Somewhere safe. And since Thunder and Lightning are at Martin’s now,” Nate continued, “the stalls here are open.”
Hope swelled up so fast I could barely breathe. “What did you do?” I whispered.
He swallowed. “I adopted an old pair. Big draft horses. Retired from work. They were heading to auction. They’ve earned an easy life, and the owner couldn’t afford to keep them. Martin suggested we take them—he said they would be perfect for us. Our first horses. They’re coming tomorrow morning.”
A trembling laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “Do we need to know anything about horses?”
“We can learn.” He rushed on, voice low and earnest. “But if you don’t want them, Jo, I’ll place them somewhere good. I should have asked you, but this felt right. For them. For us. For Silas’s memory. So if—”
“Nate,” I breathed, setting my mug aside and climbing into his lap before he could finish.
His eyes widened.
“Yes,” I said, cupping his face. “Of course I want them. Retired drafts who need a gentle place to land? That’s everything Silas stood for. Everything we want to build here.”
His relief was almost luminous.
“So you’re okay with it?” he asked softly.
“More than okay.” My voice broke. “The barn is going to feel alive again. Filled with those big, beautiful, older horses. It’ll be like Silas is here, continuing to bring joy.”
His arms slid around my waist, pulling me closer, forehead resting against mine. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I want this.”
“What are their names?” I asked.
He grimaced. “This is where it gets embarrassing.”
“Oh no.”
“Blizzard and Marshmallow.”
I stared.
He winced. “They know their names so we can’t change them..”
I put a hand over my mouth. “Blizzard and Marshmallow.” I laughed—loud and bright—and he looked at me like it was his favorite sound. “I guess that’s better than Butter.”
After a moment, I leaned looked up and said, “I have a present for you too.”
“Oh?” His brows lifted. “Where is it?”
“I didn’t wrap it,” I said.
“Bold move.”
“And it’s not under the tree.”
“Even bolder.”
I leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “It’s me.”
He froze. Then leaned back, very, very slowly, pupils darkening.
“You,” he repeated.
“Mm-hmm. Naked.”
He swallowed hard. “I’m not saying you’re better at giving presents than I am, but—”
“But?”
His hands tightened at my hips. “But can I unwrap mine now?”
I grinned. “Please do.”
And he did.
The END