Epilogue
Hall
Six months later, I sat on my back deck watching the sun sink behind the mountains.
The air smelled like pine and woodsmoke, and somewhere in the trees a whippoorwill was starting its evening song.
It was the same view I’d looked at for years. And I was sitting in the same chair. And following the same evening ritual with a candy bar in my lap.
But everything else had changed.
I opened the Kit-Kat bar and broke off a chunk, savoring the familiar taste of chocolate and wafer.
Down in the valley, the farmhouse sat dark and quiet. The repairs were almost finished now. It had new wiring, a new kitchen, and fresh paint on the walls. It had taken months of weekends and late nights, but we’d done the rest of the work ourselves.
Not that either of us planned to live there.
Cassidy had made that decision about three weeks after she’d moved back in with me. She’d been standing in my kitchen, humming while she burned my eggs, and she’d turned to me with that smile that still made my chest ache every time I saw it.
“I like it better up here,” she’d said. “With you.”
And just like that, it was settled.
We’d put the farmhouse on the market last month and already had two offers.
The screen door creaked behind me, and I turned to watch as Cassidy stepped onto the deck.
She was wearing one of my flannel shirts, the fabric stretched tight across her belly, and her hair was piled up in a messy bun. The warm glow from the cabin windows lit her from behind, turning her into something golden and soft.
She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
“Scoot over,” she demanded as she lowered herself into the chair beside me with a small grunt, one hand pressed to the small of her back. “Your daughter is doing gymnastics on my bladder.”
I handed her half of the Kit-Kat. “Maybe she’s practicing for the rodeo.”
“Don’t you dare joke about that. If she kicks any harder, I’m going to pee myself.” But she was smiling as she bit into the chocolate.
Cassidy was six months pregnant.
We’d conceived right away, maybe even that first time on the deck when I’d finally stopped fighting what I wanted. The doctor said everything looked healthy, and our little girl was growing right on schedule.
A little girl.
I still couldn’t wrap my head around it sometimes. Me, a father. The quiet lumberjack who’d spent years watching life from a distance, too afraid to reach for anything real.
I put my hand on her belly and felt a tiny kick against my palm.
“There she goes again,” Cassidy covered my hand with hers. “Maya’s going to be a handful. Just like her daddy.”
“I’m not a handful,” I teased, knowing full well I was.
“You literally tackled your best friend to the ground because he asked me on a date.”
“Amos deserved it.”
She laughed, that light sound that had become my favorite thing in the world, and leaned her head against my shoulder.
We sat there in comfortable silence, watching the last light fade from the sky. Stars were starting to appear, scattered across the darkness.
I thought about our wedding day. We’d gotten married at the Little Pink Wedding Chapel, run by Becky and Leland.
Cassidy had worn a white dress that made her look like an angel, tears streaming down her face as she said her vows. Her parents had sat in the front row, her mother crying too. My folks had been beside them, my dad giving me a rare nod of approval.
Amos had been my best man. He’d only made three inappropriate jokes during the reception, which was practically a record for him.
At the time, I’d thought it had been the best day of my life. Then afterward, as we’d settled into the quiet routine of a life together, I’d realized every day I got with this woman was the best day of my life.
Damn, she’d turned me into a fucking cornball. I’d better watch out, or she’d have me crying over rom-coms within a year.
And soon I was going to be outnumbered.
Ladies… two.
Dudes… one.
But who was keeping score, right? And maybe after we got used to baby number one, I’d work on settling the score. What would it be like to have a mini-me running around?
He’d be the roughest, toughest little boy on the mountain. He’d come out of her already holding a saw in his hand and wearing a tiny flannel shirt. I chuckled at the thought of it.
I’d name him Brock.
“What are you thinking about?” Cassidy murmured.
“How lucky I am,” I rumbled out without any hesitation.
She tilted her face up to look at me, popping the last of her Kit-Kat into her mouth. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I kissed her forehead, breathing in the scent of her strawberry shampoo. “I spent so much time up here alone, watching that light in the valley. Telling myself it was enough just to know someone else was out there.”
I looked over at her, the woman who’d burned her way into my life and refused to leave.
“But I don’t need to look for the light anymore,” I said. “I’ve got it sitting right here next to me.”
She kissed me then, soft and sweet, tasting like chocolate.
And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t watching from a distance.
I was exactly where I belonged.