Epilogue
MAX
Two Years Later
The Virginia Beach cemetery is quiet in the late autumn afternoon.
I stand in front of Marcus Harris's headstone, my hands shoved in my pockets against the chill. Claire is beside me, her fingers intertwined with mine, her belly heavy with our son who's due in just six weeks.
Our son.
I still can't quite believe it.
"Hey, brother." My voice comes out rougher than I intend. "Sorry it took me so long to visit."
The marble is weathered now, the edges softened by time and rain. Someone has left flowers recently. Claire's mother, probably. Catherine has been making the trip from Grizzly Ridge every few months since she finally left Gerald and moved to Montana to be closer to her daughter.
It took her six months after that night at the inn to find her courage.
Six months of phone calls with Claire, of slowly rebuilding a relationship that had been damaged by years of silence and complicity.
When she finally showed up on our doorstep with two suitcases and mascara streaming down her face, Claire held her for an hour while she sobbed.
Now Catherine runs the front desk at the Mountain Haven Inn. She's softer than she used to be. Happier. The woman she was before Gerald got his hooks into her is slowly reemerging.
"I brought someone to meet you," I continue, looking at the headstone. "Well, two someones."
Claire squeezes my hand. I squeeze back.
"I married your daughter, Marcus. I know that probably makes you want to rise from the grave and kick my ass." A laugh escapes me, raw and real. "I wouldn't blame you. I spent a long time thinking you would hate me for this. For wanting her. For loving her."
The wind rustles through the trees. I choose to believe it's Marcus listening.
"But I think maybe you knew. When you asked me to watch over your girls, maybe you knew that someday Claire and I would find each other.
Maybe you trusted me with more than just protection.
" I clear my throat against the thickness building there.
"Or maybe I'm just telling myself that so I can sleep at night. "
Claire releases my hand and steps forward. She traces her fingers over her father's name, carved deep into the stone.
"Hi, Daddy." Her voice is steady, but I can hear the tears underneath. "I miss you. Every day, I miss you."
She's quiet for a moment, her hand resting on the marble.
"Max takes good care of me. You'd be proud of him. He's built this whole life in Montana, this community of veterans who look out for each other. He makes these incredible sculptures that people come from all over to buy. And he loves me, Daddy. He loves me so much it scares me sometimes."
I move to stand behind her, wrapping my arms around her from behind, my hands resting on the swell of her belly.
"We're naming him Marcus," she says. "After you. So he'll always carry a piece of his grandfather with him."
My throat tightens. We decided on the name months ago, but hearing her say it here, in front of her father's grave, makes it feel more real somehow.
"I wish you could meet him," Claire continues.
"I wish you could teach him to throw a football and take him fishing and tell him embarrassing stories about me when I was little.
" She laughs through her tears. "I wish a lot of things.
But mostly I wish you could see how happy I am. How happy Max makes me."
She turns in my arms, buries her face against my chest. I hold her while she cries, my cheek resting on the top of her head.
"I kept my promise, brother," I murmur, looking at the headstone over her shoulder.
"I watched over your girl. And somewhere along the way, she became mine.
" I pause, struggling for the words that have been building in my chest for two years.
"I hope that's okay. I hope you know I'll spend the rest of my life making sure she's safe. Happy. Loved."
The wind picks up, warm despite the autumn chill. It wraps around us like an embrace.
Claire pulls back, wiping her eyes. "We should go. Our flight leaves in a few hours."
I nod, but I don't move right away. There's one more thing I need to say.
"Thank you," I tell Marcus. "For bringing her into my life. For trusting me with the most precious thing you ever had." My voice breaks on the last word. "I won't let you down."
Claire takes my hand again. Together, we walk back to the rental car, leaving the quiet cemetery behind.
The flight home is long, but Claire sleeps through most of it, her head on my shoulder, her hand resting protectively over her belly. I stay awake, watching the clouds drift past the window, thinking about everything that's changed in the past two years.
We got married six months after that night in my shop. Small ceremony, just the Grizzly Ridge family gathered in Logan's backyard. Claire wore a white sundress and wildflowers in her hair, and I'm pretty sure I cried more than she did.
Sarah was her maid of honor. Logan stood up for me. Little Lucy Creed scattered flower petals down the aisle with more enthusiasm than accuracy. Afterward, we all crowded into Maggie's Diner for dinner, and the whole town showed up to celebrate.
It was nothing like the wedding Claire had planned with Derek. No church, no ceremony, no three hundred guests she barely knew. Just the people who mattered, witnessing something real.
Two months later, we found out she was pregnant.
I still remember the moment she told me. Standing in our kitchen, the one we'd renovated together over the summer, holding a white stick with two pink lines. Her hands were shaking. Her eyes were bright with tears and terror and hope.
"Max." Just my name. Nothing else.
I swept her into my arms and spun her around until she laughed and begged me to stop before she threw up.
That night, lying in bed with my hand on her still flat stomach, I made a new promise. Not to Marcus this time, but to the tiny life growing inside the woman I love.
I promised to be the father I never had. To show up for every milestone, every scraped knee, every nightmare. To teach my son what it means to be a good man, even when the world makes it hard. To love him fiercely and unconditionally, the way Marcus loved Claire.
The way I love Claire.
We land in Billings after midnight. The drive to Grizzly Ridge takes another two hours, winding mountain roads illuminated only by headlights and stars. Claire dozes beside me, and I let the familiar rhythm of the road settle into my bones.
Home.
I never thought I'd have one. Growing up in foster care, bouncing from house to house, family to family, home was a concept I understood intellectually but never experienced. Even in the Teams, surrounded by brothers who would die for me, I always felt like an outsider looking in.
Then Claire walked into my shop, and everything changed.
She gave me roots. A place to belong. A reason to stop running from the man I was and start building the man I want to be.
Our cabin comes into view around the last bend.
We built it together over the past year, on land adjacent to my shop.
Two stories of timber and stone, with a wraparound porch and a nursery painted soft green.
Claire's touches are everywhere. Photographs on the walls, plants in every window, the quilt her grandmother made draped over the couch.
It looks like a home. It feels like one too.
I carry Claire inside and tuck her into our bed. She murmurs something and curls into her pillow, one hand still resting on her belly. I stand there for a long moment, watching her sleep, overwhelmed by the magnitude of what I've been given.
Then I go to the nursery.
The crib sits in the corner, handmade by Brian Givens as a wedding gift. The walls are covered with murals that Maddox painted, mountains and eagles and stars. A mobile hangs above the crib, tiny metal shapes that catch the moonlight through the window.
I made those shapes. Hammered them at my forge late at night when I couldn't sleep, when the nightmares came and the only thing that helped was the rhythm of creation. Eagles for strength. Bears for protection. Stars for hope.
My son will sleep beneath them soon.
My son.
Marcus Maxwell Reaves.
I press my hand against the cool wood of the crib and close my eyes.
"I'm going to tell you about your grandfather," I say softly. "Every day, I'm going to tell you stories about him. About how brave he was. How kind. How much he would have loved you."
The words come easier now than they used to. The grief is still there, but it's softer. Less like a wound and more like a scar. A reminder of what I've lost, but also what I've gained.
"And I'm going to tell you about your mother. How she drove two thousand miles to find me. How she saved me from drowning in my own guilt and fear. How she looked at me like I was worth something when I'd forgotten how to believe it myself."
I open my eyes. The moon has risen higher, casting silver light across the nursery floor.
"You're going to have a good life, little one. I promise you that. Whatever it takes, whatever I have to do, you're going to be safe and happy and loved."
Arms wrap around me from behind. Claire's warmth presses against my back, her chin resting on my shoulder.
"You're going to be an amazing father," she murmurs.
I turn in her arms. In the moonlight, she looks ethereal. Dark skin luminous, eyes soft with sleep and love.
"You should be resting."
"I woke up and you were gone." She reaches up, traces the line of my jaw with gentle fingers. "I don't sleep well without you anymore."
"Good thing I'm not going anywhere, then."
I kiss her softly. Then less softly. The familiar heat builds between us, undimmed by time or familiarity.
"Take me to bed," she whispers against my lips.
I do.
Later, with Claire curled against my chest and the Montana stars blazing outside our window, I think about the journey that brought me here. The pain and the loss and the years of wandering. The promise I made to a dying friend. The woman who refused to let me push her away.
I kept my promise, Marcus.
I watched over your girl.
I just loved her too.
And in the end, that was exactly what you would have wanted.