Epilogue
SIX MONTHS LATER
The first light of the summer solstice broke through in the eastern sky, a hint of soft pink and gold.
Jake stood at the head of the ancient stone circle that surrounded St. Bridget’s, watching as dark yielded to light.
The longest day of the year had arrived, the wheel turning once more, bringing them to the height of summer.
Beside him, Ru was a warm, steady, and patient presence.
Jake glanced down at him, his heart twisting.
One year ago to the day, and in another life, he’d stood in the same spot, lonely and alone, as the sun rose on another empty, desolate day.
“It’s starting.” Jake took Ru’s hand, his voice hushed in the stillness of early morning.
Ru nodded, his expression rapt as the first sliver of sun crested the stark moorland. Golden light spilled across the moor, transforming the landscape, bringing definition to what had been shadow. Jake watched Ru as much as he watched the sunrise, captivated by the quiet wonder in his eyes.
Six months. It had been six months since Christmas, and the storm that had brought Ru to his door. Six months since everything had changed. Sometimes Jake still couldn’t believe how thoroughly his life had been transformed, how completely the frozen, isolated existence he’d built had thawed.
The sun climbed higher, its rays now striking the tallest of the standing stones and the stumpy tower of the tiny stone church.
Jake’s hand tightened around Ru’s as he led him inside, ducking his head beneath the pitted archway and the rough carving, a weathered image of the Green Man.
St. Bridget’s was little more than a hermit’s cell, its walls carved with symbols both pagan and Christian.
A simple wooden cross stood on the stone altar, draped with greenery.
“Look.” Jake pointed to where the sunlight was beginning to stream through the narrow eastern window, creating a beam that would, in moments, strike the altar directly.
As the sun hit the stone altar, Jake felt something shift inside him, a sense of completion in this moment of perfect balance.
The wheel had turned, from the winter solstice when he and Ru had kept vigil together through the longest night, watching for the dawn and the return of the light.
Now, with the sun at its zenith, they stood together again, witnessing another turning point.
The fleeting moment passed, the perfect alignment shifting as the sun continued its climb. Ru turned to Jake with a smile that still made Jake’s heart skip.
“That was incredible,” Ru said, his voice hushed. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
Jake nodded, unable to find words for what he was feeling. Instead, he pressed his lips to Ru’s in a gentle kiss, closing his eyes as Ru sighed at the touch.
When they emerged from the church, the morning had fully arrived, the moor spread before them bathed in soft sunlight. They found a sheltered spot away from the ancient church and stones, settling on a patch of sun-warmed grass with a wide open view across the rolling landscape.
“Hungry?” Jake pulled provisions from his backpack.
“Starving. The hike up here took more out of me than I expected.”
“City boy,” Jake teased, grinning as he handed Ru a doorstep of a sandwich.
Ru huffed. “Always will be to a degree, though I’m getting better at this country life stuff, you have to admit,” he said through a mouthful of bread.
Jake couldn’t argue with that. After Christmas, and the thaw, Ru had gone back to London to pack up his life there.
His flat had gone on the market, to be snapped up and sold within days, leaving him free to relocate to the isolated farmhouse.
Over the past months, Ru had adapted to life at the farmhouse with a flexibility and enthusiasm that still surprised Jake, as Ru had embraced the change with the same open hearted approach he seemed to bring to everything.
They ate in easy silence, the only sounds the distant call of birds and the soft whisper of wind through the gorse.
Jake found himself studying Ru’s profile, the line of his jaw, the way his hair, a little longer now than when they’d first met, still fell across his forehead and probably always would.
“What?” Ru asked, catching him staring.
“Nothing.” Jake hesitated. “No, not nothing. I was thinking about how different everything is from six months ago.”
Ru’s expression softened. “Good different?”
“The best kind of different.” Jake reached out, brushing Ru’s hair back, a gesture that had become a habit. “I never thought I’d have this again. Someone to share things with.”
“Is that what we’re doing? Sharing things?” Ru’s smile was teasing, but his eyes were serious.
“We’re sharing everything.” The words came easier than they once had. “My life. Yours. The farmhouse. The business.”
And it was more than true. Ru had become not only the centre of Jake’s personal life, he’d carved out an indispensable role in the business.
Ru had taken on the administrative side of Whitby Survival, freeing up Jake to focus on what he did best. The website, revamped by one of Ru’s friends for ‘mates rates’, was, alongside Ru’s social media management, bringing in new clients and giving the business a level of visibility it’d never had before.
But more than that, so much more, Ru had brought life and warmth back into Jake’s life, one that had been cold and static, devoid of all colour.
The farmhouse felt like a home again, filled with conversation and laughter, with Ru’s books scattered everywhere, with drawings he’d done of Jake and Monty, and of the farmhouse and the surrounding countryside, all of them framed and hung on the walls alongside some of his own photographic endeavours.
“I have something for you,” Jake said, reaching into his pack again. “For the solstice.”
Ru’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You’ve bought me a present?”
“Not bought,” Jake replied, suddenly self-conscious. He pulled out a small wooden box. “Open it.”
Ru took the box, glancing between it and Jake, and back again. Biting down on his lower lip, he lifted the lid.
Inside lay a simple pendant, a small, hand carved Green Man, hanging from a leather cord.
Ru’s eyes widened as he lifted the pendant from the box. “It’s beautiful. You made this?”
“No. My nan gave it to me when I was eighteen, just before I joined the army. I couldn’t always wear it, but it went with me on every deployment. She said it’d keep me safe. I want you to have it—”
“I—I can’t. I mean, your nan gave it to you, and I know how much she meant to you.”
Jake leant in and closed Ru’s hand around the pendant. “She did. But you mean more. She would’ve wanted this, I know it in here.” Jake touched his chest, over where his heart lay.
“I don’t know what to say,” Ru said, his voice wavering.
Jake smiled. “Then say nothing, and accept it for the gift it is.”
Ru nodded. “Will you put it on me?”
Jake took the pendant, moving behind Ru to secure it around his neck. His fingers brushed the warm skin at Ru’s nape, lingering there for a moment before he moved back around.
The generations-old little wooden carving rested just below Ru’s collar bone. Jake’s chest tightened at the sight.
“Thank you.” Ru’s warm palm cupped Jake’s cheek. Without thought, on instinct, Jake pushed into the touch.
Jake nodded, unable to speak for the swell of emotion in his heart. It wasn’t a ring, because the small carving was more than a metal band would ever be.
The day warmed around them, the solstice sun climbing higher.
“We should probably head back soon,” Jake said eventually, reluctant to let the moment go. “It’s going to get hot later.”
Ru nodded, but made no move to leave. Instead, he stretched out on the grass and crossed his arms to make a pillow for his head. “Five more minutes,” he murmured, eyes closed against the bright sun. “It’s too perfect to leave just yet.”
Jake stretched out beside Ru, their bodies close enough to touch, a relaxed and easy intimacy that still, sometimes, took Jake by surprise. There was a rightness about it, along with who’d they’d become together in such a short period of time.
When five minutes had stretched to fifteen, Jake sat up. “Come on, city boy. Time to move.”
Ru groaned but complied, helping to repack the backpack. As they prepared to leave, he paused, looking back at the ancient church. “Do you think we could come back? For the autumn equinox?”
Something warm unfurled within Jake at the question, at the casual way Ru saw their future together, months ahead. “Yes, we can,” he said, his voice a little rough, a little uneven.
They left St. Bridget’s as they’d arrived, on foot, the first hikers of the day having the moorland paths to themselves.
The journey down was easier than the climb up had been, but halfway they paused to rest, finding a sheltered spot beneath an outcrop of rock.
As Jake took a drink from his water bottle, Ru moved closer, his hand coming to rest on Jake’s chest.
“Have I told you today how glad I am that I got stuck in that snowstorm and never made it to Bobblecombe?”
Jake set the water bottle aside, his hands coming to Ru’s waist. “You might have mentioned it once or twice.”
“Well, I’m mentioning it again,” Ru murmured, leaning in to brush his lips against Jake’s. “Best wrong turn I ever took.”
The kiss deepened, slow, sensual, and unhurried. Jake, his back against the rock, pulled Ru closer, savouring the familiar weight and warmth of Ru’s body against his. The solitude of the moor wrapped around them, offering a privacy that invited more than a kiss.
Jake’s hands slid beneath Ru’s shirt, finding warm skin. Six months, and he still couldn’t get enough of touching Ru, or of the way Ru responded, of the small sounds he made when Jake found a sensitive spot.
“Here?” Ru asked, breathless, when they broke apart. “Really?”
Jake looked around at the empty moorland, at the clear blue sky overhead. “Why not? There’s no one for miles.”