Epilogue- Isaac
EPILOGUE- ISAAC
One Year Later
It’s been exactly a year.
I’m standing in the alley behind the gym, just behind the dumpster, where the world tilted sideways and everything changed.
The morning air is crisp, and the breeze carries the faint scent of coffee and pastries from The Nook . A few blocks away, someone’s car alarm chirps. Somewhere closer, a bird sings like nothing ever went wrong here.
But I remember.
I remember Tyler’s blood on the pavement. The heaviness of his body. The way my heart stuttered before kicking into high gear. I remember thinking he might die before I even knew his last name. I remember shaking as I held pressure to his head and waited for help to arrive. The sleepless night in the emergency room when I couldn't bear to leave him there alone. I think I knew then that I'd found something— someone —that mattered more than anything.
I almost lost him before I ever had him.
And I almost lost him again, months later, when everything fell apart. Those memories stay with me. They remind me every single day how lucky I am.
It’s crazy to think that was only a year ago. It feels like a lifetime and a single breath all at once. Like something that lives in my bones and haunts my sleep.
He still has nightmares sometimes. Still avoids walking alone at night. But we’re healing.
Life is good.
Mom and Chelsey live closer now, just a few miles out of town. Chelsey transferred to a clinic that partners with the hospital running the chronic pain trials, and Mom was accepted into the program late last year. The medication isn’t perfect, some kind of nerve blocker that needs frequent adjustment, but it’s helping. She has more good days now. Days when she comes to hang out at the gym with us or joins us for Sunday brunches at The Nook , teasing Tyler like she’s known him his whole life.
Brenna moved off to college last fall. She’s thriving. I'm pretty sure Tyler’s already scheming to offer her a job once she finishes her marketing degree.
Mac and Anders miss her like crazy, but they're keeping busy, as always. They just had their grand re-opening. The space next door to them, which used to be a vape shop, opened up, and now they have a whole courtyard. Outdoor seating, fairy lights, local artists playing acoustic sets. We go every Friday night for live music, and every Sunday for brunch. It’s tradition now. Like family dinner, only with the best pancakes you’ve ever had.
The gym took off faster than I ever imagined. Not long after word started spreading about JAX Defense & MMA, we got a notice that the ordinances affecting our building had been reversed. We still don’t know who pulled the strings. Maybe local business owners saw past the gossip and realized I wasn’t the monster I’d been painted to be. Or maybe Talon made a quiet call and fixed the disaster he helped create. Either way, we didn’t have to pay the extra fifteen grand. That, combined with the fundraiser’s success, gave us the space to breathe. The chance to build something real.
We launched at the spring fair, and the support poured in. Tyler’s crowd-funding campaign did more than raise money—it brought people into the fold. His designs gave the gym a face, a story. People walked in because of him, but they stayed because of what we were building together. What mattered most was how it brought people together. They showed up for us, trained with us, brought their kids, told their neighbors. We didn’t just open a gym—we built a family.
We’ve got a kid named Mateo who can climb the rope wall faster than any adult here. Miss Frankie brings her grandkids every Wednesday and bakes cookies for the front desk like it’s a family reunion. Reggie from the hardware store, who swore he was too old for this, signed up for his second sparring match next month. They’re not just clients. They’re ours.
Tyler’s been helping me teach weekly self-defense classes for therapy groups—people who’ve survived abuse or trauma. It’s heavy work, but it matters. And seeing him lead parts of the sessions, watching how people listen when he speaks makes me proud in a way I can’t describe.
Now, we’re looking ahead. We’ve started looking into expanding. There’s talk of opening a second facility. One designed specifically as a ninja warrior-style obstacle gym for kids. We want it to be a place that teaches strength and balance, but also confidence. Resilience. We’ve already had parents asking when we’re opening registration. It’s exciting. And a little terrifying. But we’re ready for it.
I don’t know where we’ll be in five years. Maybe we’ll have that second gym up and running. Maybe we’ll have a dozen kids in the ninja course every day and enough staff for me to take a real day off now and then. Maybe not. But wherever we are, I hope we’re still waking up tangled together. Still chasing each other through doors. Still choosing each other every damn day.
Mornings are our favorite. We go for short runs when the weather’s nice, then work out together—lifting, striking drills, sometimes just stretching in silence. More often than not, it ends with both of us flushed, sweaty, and dangerously distracted. Which means we end up in the shower together, laughing, touching, waking each other up all over again.
Tyler works from the gym most days now, but that’s just one piece of everything he’s built. Valdin Strategies is unrecognizable from the monster it used to be. Talon still handles the legal and financial services, but Tyler runs the business management arm—especially the most in-demand commercial graphic design team on the East Coast. People book out months in advance just to have his team design their branding.
Even with all that, he still shows up at the gym nearly every day. Sometimes he sets up at the front desk, sometimes upstairs in the small office we cleared out for him. He wears my hoodies, fields emails with one hand, and gives clients pep talks with the other. He’s the unofficial heart of this place. Hell, half the people who walk in come back just because he remembered their names. He’s a far cry from the guy who used to shy away from people. I think learning self-defense —and putting Guy in his place before I even showed up—went a long way toward healing his confidence.
As for Guy, last we heard, he’s in rehab after getting arrested for DUI and possession. The body cam footage leaked, showing him propositioning the officer, then trying to throw a punch when he got turned down. He’s earned himself a reputation as a political problem child, despite being nearly thirty. He’s made the tabloids so many times, his father had no choice but to retire. Good riddance.
I still struggle with how I lost control after seeing that footage. Most days, I’m not sorry I did it. But I know how close we came to losing everything, and we’re damn lucky it didn’t go that way.
We've moved on. The fear doesn't cling like it used to. We don't think about the worst of it every day anymore. We stopped looking around corners. There’s a tiny part of me that hopes Guy gets his shit together and becomes a better person. We’ve grown so much. And most importantly, Tyler has gotten more relaxed and confident in himself.
The back door creaks open behind me.
“What are you doing out here?” Tyler asks, stepping out.
I don’t turn around right away. He comes closer, and I feel his presence beside me, his shoulder brushing mine.
He follows my gaze. Sees where I’m standing.
He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Just lays his cheek on my shoulder, looking up at me with those blue-green eyes that still knock the wind out of me.
“I wouldn’t take it back,” he says quietly. “If that’s what it took to get your stubborn ass to talk to me.”
I huff out a laugh. “Me? You’re the one who ran away like a frightened kitten every time I looked at you.”
He smirks. “Well, maybe if you didn’t look at me like you wanted to devour me.”
"Maybe I did." I pinch his side, and he squeaks.
We kiss, soft and lingering, and it still feels new every time.
I don’t take it for granted. Not one second of it. The memories of almost losing him before I even really had him, then again when it felt like everything was slipping away, keep me grounded. Every time I wake up and he’s there, every time I hear his laugh echo through the gym, I remember how close we came to a different ending. One where he was gone, or I was locked away, or we just never crossed paths again. It reminds me how lucky I am. How lucky we are.
Tyler pulls back with a groan. “You were supposed to be taking the trash out. And where’s the mop? The floor mats have cake ground into them.”
“How did I let you talk me into hosting a birthday party again?”
He leans up and kisses me sweetly. “Because you love me. And because you’re a sucker.”
Then he’s darting back inside, grinning over his shoulder.
“You are in so much trouble!” I call after him, chasing him through the door.
And just like that, we keep moving forward.
* * *
A year ago, we were strangers. Two people from different worlds, crashing together under the worst circumstances. I found him broken and bleeding behind a dumpster, and I didn’t know then that he’d become my everything.
In him, I found the acceptance I didn’t know I needed. Confidence I didn’t think I deserved. A kind of love that rebuilt me from the inside out.
We almost lost everything—our futures, our freedom, each other. But we made it work. We fought for it. We sacrificed for it. And now… now we have this life we built from the ashes.
Because everything means nothing if we don’t have each other.
And now? We have everything.