Epilogue
Sloane
Five Years Later
By the time I make it up the mountain, the sun is already dropping behind the peak.
The drive doesn’t feel long anymore.
It used to. Every turn felt like a risk, every mile something I had to get through before I could breathe again. Now it’s just part of my day, the climb steady and familiar.
I park beside Carter’s truck and cut the engine, sitting there for a second with my hands resting on the wheel. The quiet settles around me the same way it always does up here, deep, and solid, untouched by anything happening down in town.
When I finally step out of the truck, the first thing I hear is the crack of wood splitting.
I follow the sound around the side of the cabin, the packed dirt and scattered gravel familiar terrain under my boots, and find him exactly where I expect.
Carter stands at the chopping block, bringing the axe down in one controlled motion after another, the rhythm steady and unhurried. Sweat darkens the collar of his shirt, the fabric pulled tight across his shoulders as he works, each movement grounded and precise.
A small figure darts past him, nearly tripping over a log.
“Careful,” Carter says without looking, shifting the axe to his shoulder as our son barrels through the yard with all the haste of youth.
“I’m helping,” he insists, already circling back.
“You’re in the way,” Walker mutters from where he’s stacking wood nearby.
Once we were properly introduced, he started stopping by more and more. By the time Casey was born, he was officially designated an uncle.
I step closer, and Carter’s gaze lands on me, moving over me once, quick, and thorough, before settling.
“Everything good?” he asks.
“Yes.”
That’s all it takes.
He nods once and drives the axe down again, finishing the log before setting it aside. By the time I reach him, he’s already stepping back, wiping his hands on his jeans.
“You’re late,” he says.
“Had a truck come in right before closing,” I tell him. “Reid didn’t want to work late.”
“So, you did.”
“Of course I did. It’s so old it’s practically a dinosaur.”
A corner of his mouth lifts, and his hand comes to rest at my lower back, steady and familiar as he pulls me in close enough that I feel the heat coming off him.
“You eat?” he asks.
“Not yet.”
“I’ll fix that,” he whispers.
We’ve been hosting weekly barbecues all summer long, and he has perfected smash burgers. I could smell the food on the grill from the driveway, and my stomach is demanding a juicy burger.
“Tell her the truth,” Casanova calls from the fire pit. “If it wasn’t for me, none of this would’ve happened.”
I glance over to where he’s stretched out on one of the benches, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
“You mean the part where you used his face without permission?” I ask.
“Minor detail,” he says with a grin.
Carter’s hand presses a little firmer at my back as he guides me toward the fire, not pushing, just making it clear where he wants me.
I follow his lead happily. At times, he’s less talkative but he never fails to stay in the moment with me.
Our life settled into a steady routine without me noticing exactly when it happened. I work at Reid’s Garage during the day, same as I always have and then I come home to my family.
“Mom.”
I look down as small fingers wrap around my hand.
“Can I have a s’more?”
Judging by the sticky marshmallow and chocolate smear on his cheek I’d wager it’s not his first. Depending on how long Casanova’s been here, it might not even be his fourth.
“Ask your dad.”
He doesn’t hesitate, already turning.
Carter crouches without a word, listening as our son talks over himself, then nods once before handing him what he wants.
Watching them together never fails to warm my heart.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” Casanova says, appearing at my side again. “For all of it.”
I glance at him.
“You didn’t set us up.”
“I absolutely did too.”
Before I can respond, Carter looks over, not saying anything, just holding his gaze long enough that Casanova lifts his hands in surrender.
“Alright, you win,” he says, backing off. “Give fate all the credit like I didn’t swipe through a thousand profiles before I found Sloane.”
The air cools as the sun drops lower, the fire crackling steadily in front of us.
Carter steps back into my space, his hand settling low on my stomach, his palm warm and solid through the thin fabric of my tank top.
“You should be sitting,” he says.
“I’m fine.”
“I know,” he replies. “Sit anyway.”
I don’t argue. It’s early in this pregnancy but Carter worries. If resting with my feet up in front of a fire will ease his mind, I’m happy to do it.
Lowering myself onto a bench, he stays close enough that his knee presses against mine, his hand not moving from where it rests.
My fingers come up to cover his, settling there without thinking.
Five years ago, I ran to him because I didn’t have another choice. Now I come home because I do and I’m not going anywhere.
The End
Need more sexy lumberjacks? Check out the entire Sexy Lumbersnacks series!
And
Curious about the danger Aurora and her daughter found themselves in? Read Single Mom for the Cowboy to meet Luke, the man who swore he’d never be a family man but eats his words when he meets Aurora and her daughter. Call him a hypocrite, he doesn’t give a damn.