EPILOGUE
RILEY
Two years pass like a dream as we hide out in Cedar Falls, though hide isn’t really the right word for it. We have thrived here. Sure, every now and then, travelers will pass through, and we’ll lay low during those times, but we’ve never had to hide here. Never felt as though we didn’t belong.
This is our home, and after everything we had to go through to get here, I wouldn’t have it any other way. The life we’ve built together is amazing. It’s more than amazing, it’s everything. It’s bittersweet because, without the pain, without the suffering, we wouldn’t have landed here.
Stone’s name will never be cleared, and that’s something we both came to terms with a long time ago, and while we seem to have a normal life here on the property, it’ll never truly be normal.
We’ll never stop looking over our shoulders, never walk into a room without scanning it first. But with time on our side, Stone’s name has slowly begun to fade from the media, replaced by new stories, new breakouts, new headlines.
It will never truly go away, but we’re okay with that because, no matter what, they won’t find us here.
Over the past two years, Stone and Ray have put blood, sweat, and tears into this land.
They’ve breathed new life into it. They transformed a run-down, forgotten farm into something sustainable and thriving, with rolling green hills that disappear into the distance and land stocked with cattle, horses, and all kinds of livestock.
Like this, it could thrive for generations to come.
Hell, we have peacocks for fuck’s sake. Who would have ever thought that I’d have a peacock?
I also have a rooster, but I don’t share the same love for it as I do the stunning peacock. The rooster is a dick.
We’re content here. We’re happy and free.
We even took a quick road trip last year and headed back to the abandoned town where the barb-dicked demon may or may not reside to retrieve the black Firebird we left there.
The kind thing would have been to make sure it somehow found its way back to the owner, who likely spent years fixing it up.
Buuuuuut, Stone didn’t want to. He was emotionally connected to the car.
He felt they had bonded during their time together, and he couldn’t bring himself to let it go.
Even when it broke down three times on the way back to Cedar Falls.
So now, instead of collecting dust in an abandoned town, it collects dust here.
But apparently, we wouldn’t have it any other way.
Stone loves working on the farm, and I love watching him do it.
Every morning, he’s out there caring for the animals before working on tractors or fixing fences.
The majority of the time, he does it with his shirt off and tucked into the back of his pants while Barbara and I watch from the porch, burning whatever is in the oven.
Can’t blame us, though. Stone Blackthorne is a glorious beast, the best kind of man meat, and when the blistering sun has a sheer layer of sweat coating his skin and showing off those defined muscles . . . I can’t be held accountable for the wicked things I do to him.
It’s just about six on Sunday evening as Stone walks us up toward the main house, his arms hooked under my thighs on either side of his body as he piggy-backs me.
And no, even at twenty-six years old, a woman is never too old to be manhandled and thrown around by a fine specimen such as Stone Blackthorne, my unofficial husband.
My arms dangle over his shoulders, and I trail my fingers across his strong pecs. My lips hover just by his ear, and I lean in a little closer, kissing his neck. No matter how many lifetimes I live, I will never be happier than I’ve been here in this life with Stone.
Nothing could ever beat this. We’re two halves of the same whole. He’s the peanut butter in my jelly sandwich, and I’m the Bonnie to his Clyde.
Reaching the porch of the main house at the top of the hill, Stone can’t help but pause and turn around, just as he does every time he steps up onto this porch, that overwhelming need to take in the view grasping him in a chokehold.
“Fuck me,” he breathes, taking in this incredible property he’s built with Ray and watching the horses in the distance, frolicking in their paddock. “I don’t know how, but we did something right.”
A smile pulls at the corners of my lips, and I find myself nodding. “We sure as hell did,” I murmur as he turns to look at me, brushing his lips over mine in the sweetest kiss, lingering there for way too long, knowing Barbara’s going to have his ass for keeping her waiting.
Then, as if on cue, the front door whips open, and an angry-faced Barbara stares back at us. “It’s 6:02. What could possibly be keeping you?”
“Sorry, Barb. Got distracted.”
“By the view?” she asks, hopeful, gazing past us to the same horses we were only just looking at.
“No,” he says with a knowing smirk. “I was balls deep inside my wife.”
My jaw drops, and I suck in a loud gasp, my cheeks burning with embarrassment, though I don’t know why it bothers me. It’s not as though constant teasing isn’t a staple in this crazy little family we’ve claimed.
I kick my legs, forcing Stone to release his hold so I can slide down his back and drop to the ground, and the moment I have my balance, I step around him and swat his wide chest. “You’re such a rotten liar,” I tease.
“The only thing he was balls deep in was the hole he dug himself after forgetting to close the cottage door and welcoming George, the seven-hundred-pound prized pig, right into our living room. Do you have any idea what I had to do to get that big bastard out? Not to mention, he stinks. I had to leave the window open all day to air it out. Pretty sure he sharted on the rug.”
Barbara chuckles before stepping out of the doorway and waving us in. “Hurry up and come inside,” she says. “You’re letting the mosquitoes in.”
Rolling my eyes, I hurry inside. There are no mosquitoes this time of year.
They like to hang out in spring, and when they do, it’s a nightmare.
I’ve never seen so many mosquitoes in my life, but for whatever reason, Barbara seems to think they’re hiding out by her front door, just waiting for a chance to sneak in.
Walking deeper into the home, we’re immediately hit by the smell of Barbara’s famous fried pork chops, and my mouth starts to water. There are a lot of meals she loves to make us sweat over, but not her chops. They’re like a wet dream in my mouth.
“Yuuuuum,” I groan, following the smell toward the dining room. “Tell me you did it with mashed potatoes.”
“Of course,” Barb chuffs. “I know what you like.”
“You’re the best—”
“The fuck is that?” Stone grunts, cutting off the boasting session I was about to drop headfirst into.
I glance back at him, my brows furrowed as I follow his gaze to the living room, wondering what the hell has got him sounding so uneasy.
That’s when I see Ray in the living room, hovering by an array of moving boxes.
Everything stops, and I feel my world start to crumble. “What—”
“Come on,” Barbara says, waving us through to the dining room. “Let’s sit down to eat. We have some things we’d like to talk to you both about.”
Stone moves in close to my back, his hand on my waist as we follow Barb into the dining room, taking our usual seats and finding the table overflowing with food.
“Whoa,” I say, taking it all in as Ray comes to sit down, a tightness in his eyes that has more than caught Stone’s attention. “What’s all this? Is there a special occasion I’ve missed?”
My brain scrambles through the list of dates I keep stored in there, but nothing is ringing any bells. “Alright,” Stone says. “Cut to the chase before Riley gives herself an aneurysm. What’s going on?”
Ray glances at Barbara, and they share a moment that almost seems too private to be sitting in on, but as quickly as it came, it goes, and Barb finally speaks up.
“We’re getting on in age,” she tells us, her tone suggesting that little snippet of information might come as a complete surprise.
“I’ll be seventy-three next month. I’m no longer a spring chicken, and getting around has been getting .
. . difficult. I’m struggling with the stairs.
My arthritis just isn’t handling it anymore. ”
“I don’t . . . I don’t understand,” I say, trying to put the pieces together as Stone reaches beneath the table and gently squeezes my thigh. “Are you selling the property?”
“Oh, no, dear,” Barbara says. “Quite the opposite.”
My face scrunches, clearly not following along, and she laughs as she takes my hand. “While we are moving, we’re not selling,” she explains. “We had a meeting with the over-fifty-five village this morning, and they’ve accepted a deposit.”
I shake my head. “No. You can’t go there. This is where you belong. You’re going to fold into the furniture and just be here forever.”
“No, Riley. We’re not. The time has come to pass the torch,” she says.
“I have had many wonderful memories in this home. It has done us well. Seen us through sixty years of marriage, and now it’s your turn.
We’d like to gift you the property. We don’t want to see our home go to strangers who aren’t going to care for everything we’ve built here.
It’s your turn, Riley. You’re our family.
We want the both of you to have many wonderful years here just as we have.
Fill the room with children and laughter.
Thrive on the land, and see what it can do for you. ”
Stone shifts his gaze to Ray. “You’re just offering us the property?”
Ray nods. “When you first arrived, the property wasn’t worth anything, and without you, it would be run into the ground.
You are what’s valuable. You are the one who has put in the work.
You are the one who gave it new life. You, Stone, you are what makes this property thrive, and it wouldn’t feel right going to anyone else. It’s yours now.”
Tears well in my eyes, and I turn back to Barbara, the dam threatening to break. “You’re sure about this?”
Her gaze softens, and she smiles at me with the most brilliant warmth as she takes my hand again.
“We wouldn’t have it any other way,” she tells me.
“Now, that’s enough of that. We can talk details in the morning.
For now, we celebrate. Fill your plates and your bellies, and then scram.
Reruns of Wheel of Fortune are coming on in an hour, and I don’t want to miss it. ”
We don’t even get a chance to thank them before she starts spilling the tea from her bingo group, and an hour later, we’re banished to our cottage, barely getting enough time to finish helping with the dishes.
We walk hand in hand back to our small home, and the moment we step inside and close the door behind us, Stone takes my waist and lifts me up onto the kitchen counter. He steps between my thighs, and I automatically lock my legs around him, pulling him in against me.
“I can’t believe they’re leaving,” I murmur, a profound sadness weighing on my shoulders while also so unbelievably shocked that they’re gifting us this home and magnificent property. “It’s not going to be the same.”
“It won’t,” he agrees. “But Barb can’t manage the stairs. I know you see it when the arthritis flares up. She shouldn’t have to struggle in her home.”
“I know, I just hate that they’re moving away. They’re the closest thing to parents either of us has ever had.”
Stone laughs and leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. “They’re just moving down the road to the retirement village, and it’s not like you’re going to miss water aerobics and shuffleboard with her every week.”
“Ugh,” I groan, playfully swatting his chest. “Don’t use logic against me. It’s not fair.”
He kisses me again, his lips moving over mine. “What’s not fair is having all those big bedrooms up in the main house and not filling them with kids.”
“You want to start having kids?”
“Maybe,” he says with a shrug. “I hadn’t thought too much about it because we’ve been in this cottage and trying to figure out what life on the run is supposed to look like.
Having kids hasn’t been an option, but in that house .
. . I can see it. Sunday morning sleep-ins with kids begging us to wake up and make pancakes.
Little bikes scattered across the lawn. Laughter.
I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty fucking good to me. ”
“It does,” I agree.
“What do you think? We start trying straight away?”
“I think that I have everything I could ever need right here in my arms,” I tell him, his hands sliding up my thighs and under the hem of my dress. “But if a little somebody was to come along with your dark eyes and need to cause trouble, then—”
“Then what?” he prompts, smiling against my lips as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my thong and starts slipping it out from beneath my dress.
“Then I’d be the happiest version of myself that ever existed.”
And with that, he scoops me right off the counter and walks us into our small bedroom, his lips already glued to mine.