Epilogue - Dawson
I slam the backseat of my car door shut and hold onto the very obvious gift bag that I’ve been wanting to give Emory for the better part of the last week. It’s not terribly heavy, a few pounds or so, but I know it’ll match the impact of a boulder flying down the side of a mountain.
With excitement in my step—because I have a lot to look forward to in my life again—I make it to the beach entrance point and nearly race down the ramp to the sandy terrain.
The tourist season is long gone, and in its place, is the lifelessness of winter’s approach.
Although, the water is always alive and thrashing, no matter what the weather is around it.
I glance out at the waves and how they roll from one into another until there’s a sudsy film on the surf. It’s midafternoon, and even though the sun is out and warm, there’s a frigid breeze that sweeps inland with the pull of the tide.
My eyes track down the shoreline, and then I spot her—my Emory, my honey, my whole fucking world. My heart immediately lights when I take notice of her hair whipping against the wind, even if half of it is underneath a tan beanie.
There’s not a single day that goes by that I don’t realize how damn lucky I am.
For a split second, I think of my ex and how it was so easy for her to bail.
And how she got into my head, making me think I was too difficult to be there for.
I’m not saying I wasn’t, but I also think people are always willing to go the extra mile and sit in someone else’s discomfort when they truly love that person.
Naturally, I walk in Emory’s direction, because where she is, I always want to be. Every single day since I’ve known her, she’s wielded this super power over me. For the most part, she’s humbly oblivious to it. It makes me love her all the fucking more.
I’m quick to cover the distance between us, my shoes slipping in the sand with every step.
She has her standard setup behind her—a blanket, her bag, and camera.
Since it’s been cold, she’s added a thermos of hot tea to that list. I’m usually the one that prepares it for her each morning before I’m out the door for work.
These days, I spend a lot more time in the hospital setting and travel to Coralhaven’s sister hospitals in surrounding counties when I’m needed. It makes for long days, but the best part is always coming home to Emory and witnessing the absolute love in her eyes when I walk through the door.
It never falters.
It never fades.
And it’s not shrouded in fear—something I thought would happen with how quickly our relationship has grown. Lance kicking her out and her having to find her own footing has been challenging, but she’s handled it like the queen she is.
She doesn’t hear me approach, too caught up in the breeze on her face with her eyes closed as she faces the ocean. My brave little soul. There was a time she wouldn’t have dared to do such a thing, and especially not by herself.
I gently place the gift bag on the blanket and walk up behind her.
I lift my hand and collect her hair. It’s almost like fire in my palm this time of year.
Her body doesn’t jump like I expect it to, which means…
“You heard me, didn’t you?” I pull her hair over one shoulder and rest my opposite hand on her waist.
“You’re never quite as quiet as you think,” she murmurs in a slow breath, one that’s doused in calmness. To say it’s been a sweet victory to see her healing process is a huge understatement.
I drag my nose along her neck then up to her ear. “That’s rather interesting because I could say the same thing about you.”
There’s a smile in her voice when she says, “Okay, I surrender to the truth that statement holds.”
I sneak my hand up under her jacket—thankfully, it’s not skintight—and spread my palm over her warm stomach, my pinky dipping dangerously close to the band of her jeans. I hum. “Anything else you’d like to surrender to, Miss Prescott?”
She relaxes back into my hold, going as far as separating her legs a step—an invitation if I ever saw one. I press two slow kisses to her neck, loving the way she squirms in my hold. “Dr. Cole, I’m not sure you’re supposed to be asking me that.”
“Mmm, well, I guess it’s a really fucking good thing I’m not your doctor anymore then, huh?”
“More than that, you should be happy Lance never went through with his threats to report you to the board.”
I let out a sigh of relief, because for a little while there—when Lance was still abhorrently angry over what transpired—he told Emory that he was going to contact the state’s licensing boards and have my license revoked.
Much to our surprise, he never followed through. I’m not exactly sure why, though we think it might have something to do with the new woman he’s been seeing. From what we know, she’s served as a good distraction for him, filling his cup in all the ways it likely felt empty.
She swivels around, and my hand misses her immediately, but it’s okay because having her face solely on mine is the next best thing.
She peers up at me with so much happiness in her eyes that it nearly brings me to my knees.
Hell, it’s happened multiple times in the past. I’m not ashamed to admit it.
“What can I say, I’m one lucky guy.”
Her hands frame my face, and she pulls me to her. “I’d say so,” she says before sliding her perfect mouth against me. It doesn’t matter what time of day it is, she always tastes like a vanilla sundae.
Her tongue slips into my mouth first, and I groan in appreciation when it languidly glides against mine.
A line of fire zips down my back, and I guide her backwards toward her blanket, gently pulling us down onto it.
She’s quick to assume one of my favorite positions—her on top of me—as I lean back on my hands and let her have all control.
I’m desperate for more when she pulls away an inch and says, “Do you think this is ever going to fade?”
My eyes stay closed, and I jut my chin out, stealing a quick peck from her. “No.”
“That’s it? Just—no?”
“Yes.”
She shoves at my shoulder and pulls away even more. “Dawson.”
I chuckle and open my eyes. We both know I’m not a man of few words. “Flings fade, Emory, but fate doesn’t. When something is meant to be, there’s only one direction for it to move.”
“Yeah, and where’s that?”
I look into her sparkling green eyes. “To a place where both people continuously fall harder. Where they become so obsessed with one another,” I curl my hand around her neck and bring her mouth back to mine, “that they need the other to survive.”
I drag my mouth over hers until she breaks the kiss. “Are you saying I’m the oxygen your lungs need because that’s kind of cli—”
“I’m saying that you’re everything my body needs—not just oxygen.
Your smile makes my blood pump through my body just how it needs to.
Your laughter makes my heart beat in normal rhythm.
Your kindness and the way you are so carefully driven inspires me in ways that make me a better man.
And…” I clear my throat. “I can’t not include your sexy little—”
Her hand covers my mouth, and a laugh of my own slips through her fingers. “You’re so annoying,” she says, but there is so much playfulness in her words that I couldn’t miss it even if I tried.
She slips off my lap and sits next to me. I look at her, loving the way her lips are red from me and not just the winter chill in the air. At the thought, a small worry pushes in.
“You know I’m never going to keep you from doing what you want, but it’s starting to cool down more. Might want to make sure you’re coming out here on the warmest days of the week.”
She sighs and looks out at the horizon. “I was actually thinking the same thing. The last few times have been a bit cold, but it just feels so nice to not be afraid anymore, you know?”
“I know, honey. You should be proud of how far you’ve come and for all the work you’ve put into overcoming all the hard things that tried to break you.”
She drops her shoulder into mine. “I am, but I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”
“Yes, you would have,” I tell her. “It just would have looked different. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing.” I grab the gift bag at my feet and swing it over to her. “Merry Christmas.”
She slowly lifts her head from me and takes it, looking at me with curiosity in her eyes. “Dawson, what did you do? We have another two weeks to go.”
I smile and push my glasses up the bridge of my nose. “I couldn’t wait any longer. Open it.”
She doesn’t waste time. She lifts the carefully wrapped box out of the bag and slowly picks away the corners of the hunter green Christmas tree wrapping paper until there’s a box on her lap. A small gasp leaves her.
It’s not the same exact model she lost out in the water, but it’s damn close—the next tier up. She’s been wanting to replace it for awhile but has had her priorities set on building a personal savings account since Lance left her with nearly nothing.
He only let her go back to the house once to grab the rest of her belongings, which meant some things got left behind.
It probably didn’t help that his mother influenced his actions—she was salty over all the money they put into wedding planning and supposedly forbade Emory from stepping foot into Lance’s house.
So, I bought the camera for her that way she didn’t have to sacrifice her own personal goals.
“I-I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” I tell her in a soft tone, my eyes dropping down to her hold on the box, but more specifically, her hand.
She replaced the bare spot on her ring finger with a promise ring a month ago, a simple golden band with a small emerald—her commitment to always stay true to herself.
“I know it’s not the same exact one but—”
“It’s perfect, Dawson.” When she looks over at me, there are tears in her eyes. “Thank you. I can’t believe this is actually sitting in my lap right now. The one my parents got me was a thrift-store find. They paid a fraction of the price they would have.”
A sadness overcomes me at the mention of her family. “Have you heard from them lately?”
It’s subtle, but she shakes her head. “Just an occasional text here and there. Weeks go by in between. You know how it is. They have other stuff to tend to.”
My chest physically hurts from her answer.
I hate that she doesn’t have a better relationship with the people that raised her.
But I also know that fractured family relationships are more common than any one person understands.
One day, I hope it’s different for her, and they realize how much they’re missing out on.
For now, though, I’ll help her through the pain that comes and goes from them being so absent.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, watching as the sudden frown on her lips flips into a small smile.
“It’s fine.” She opens the box and finicks with the camera for all of one second before she scoots as close as she can to me. “I wonder if it’ll start right up.”
“I don’t see why it wouldn’t.”
She powers it on a second later, the screen lighting up perfectly. Then, she lifts the camera in our direction like she’s going to snap a photo of us. I stare at her, mesmerized and transfixed all at the same time.
I smooth my hand over her cheek and drop my forehead to hers. “I hope you know that I am completely lost when it comes to you. Every day I wake up and fall for you all over again.”
“Always so smooth with your words,” she murmurs along the seal of my lips.
“And always yours.”
A flash of white blankets us in the next second, falling over us like flurries in the middle of a winter day. Except there is nothing cold about this moment.
And I’m not sure there ever will be.
Not when it comes to Emory Prescott.
Not when it comes to us.