Epilogue
Six Months Later
Laney
Saint built the swing himself.
That probably doesn’t surprise anyone.
He said the one in town “wasn’t anchored right” and then disappeared into the garage for two days and came back with something that could probably survive a hurricane.
It hangs from the big oak behind the house, we bought after the wedding, the one that catches the late afternoon sun just right.
Emmy is in my lap on the swing, squealing every time we move.
Saint stands in front of us, one hand steadying the rope, the other holding a lemonade he definitely forgot about.
“You’re spoiling her,” I tell him.
He looks at our daughter like she’s the center of the universe.
“That’s literally my job.”
Wolf and Havoc are on the porch arguing about something that may or may not involve a grill and definitely involves too much confidence.
The Magnolia ladies are inside, reorganizing my kitchen again.
Some things never change.
Life is quieter now.
Not empty.
Just… settled.
Saint still goes out sometimes on jobs. He still wears the armor when he needs to.
But he always comes home.
Always.
That’s the promise he keeps best.
I watch him push the swing gently and think about how different he looks.
Not weaker.
Just… unburdened.
He laughs more.
Sleeps all the way through the night.
Sometimes he still checks the locks.
But then he comes back to bed.
Later, when the sun is setting and Emmy is asleep on his chest, we sit on the porch together.
His arm is around me.
My head is on his shoulder.
“I was thinking,” he says.
That’s always dangerous.
“Oh?”
“We should build a bigger table.”
“For what?”
“For everyone,” he says simply.
I smile.
“Okay.”
I look out at our yard.
At the swing.
At the house.
At the man who once lived like the world was a battlefield and now lives like it’s a home.
“We did good,” I say.
Saint kisses the top of my head.
“Yeah,” he says. “We did.”
And for the first time in a very long life…
Nothing is waiting in the dark.