Epilogue
Tyler
Hickory Hollow in the winter would always be my favorite, but the summer wasn’t too bad either.
Everything was so green, the humidity wasn’t too bad, and Morgan’s Summer Festival was almost as good as the winter one.
There was a lot of live music with shows at the Amphitheater every weekend throughout July.
Harris and I had tickets to the Hart Valentine show next week.
Country wasn’t my favorite, but I dug most of his songs.
I’d settled into life here quickly. Truthfully, I’d expected problems to rear their ugly head before now.
That Harris and I would find parts of us that weren’t compatible and we’d have to work through compromises.
But so far, it had been smooth sailing. The more we learned about each other, the more we realized how well we fit.
I was happier now than I’d ever been, and that was saying something, because I’d loved being a Marine.
But here in this sleepy little town, with the quarterly bursts of insane, I’d found my true happy place.
I’d begged Arlo for a job, hoping I could get a couple of shifts a week.
He’d done me one better, hiring me on as manager.
He claimed he was getting old, though I knew he had yet to see his sixtieth birthday, and he wanted to slow down.
Barrett confided that he thought Arlo wanted someone to pass the pub onto, since Barrett wasn’t interested.
I wasn’t going to count on that unless Arlo made it official, but I loved working here.
It was crazy busy at times, and I’d had to step in more than once to deescalate a heated situation, but I’d found my niche.
I was good with people and Arlo was impressed with how quickly I picked up the admin stuff.
It did allow Arlo to finally have some time off, though it was only one night a week. Tuesdays were usually slow, but it was the only night I worked until close. Harris hated that I wasn’t home when he got done with his day, but he never complained. At least not out loud, anyway.
Which was why I was behind the bar now, covering Candice’s break, and listening to Carrington’s latest rant about Elliott Barlowe.
“You need to cut the guy some slack, Cary,” I said, making his next drink.
I didn’t let him see that I watered it down.
He’d already had two, after a long day of work, and he’d barely eaten.
Carrington could hold his own, but he was a tiny thing, and I’d learned that any more than three had him listing.
I loved that I knew that sort of thing about our regular customers.
“You know, anyone else who called me that would get a hard kick to the knee,” he said with an impressive scowl. And then it grew even darker when he processed what I’d actually said. “And I do not need to ‘cut him some slack.’ He’s an annoying jerk who does annoying things.”
The finger quotes hadn’t been necessary but it was cute anyway. “He’s just trying to help.”
“He’s a menace to society and he needs to stay in his own goddamn store!” He yelled the last two words and nearly slid off the stool. That’s what happened when a person was so short that their feet didn’t reach the ground.
“Easy there, killer.” I couldn’t help the laugh, which only grew when Carrington flipped me off.
“I hate him,” he muttered into his martini.
No, he didn’t. And that was their problem. But it wasn’t up to me to fix it and neither of them listened to me anyway.
The door opened and I looked up, customer service smile immediately morphing into my real one as I spotted my boyfriend.
He was looking particularly delicious in his faded jeans and ratty T-shirt, ball cap on backward.
I made sure he saw all that on my face as he strode toward the end of the bar where I rushed to meet him.
The kiss was nice. I liked that he always made sure to give me one whenever we parted and saw each other again. Sometimes he even did it when he got up to go to the bathroom. Really, he was just a big marshmallow covered in a hard candy shell.
“Hey. What are you doing here?”
“Just checking in.”
He said it casually, but I knew what that was about.
My blood sugar had been high all day. Not scary, but no matter what I did, I couldn’t get it under two hundred.
I’d been chugging water and running laps as often as possible.
And he knew that because I’d shared my CGM info with him so that he could keep track too.
I’d balked when my parents and brother wanted it, refusing to give them access.
But with Harris, it had been an easy decision.
He looked out for me without the pressure.
“I’m good. Nothing to worry about. I probably need a site change, but I’ll do it as soon as I get home.”
Harris held up the little black bag and raised his brows.
It was all my extra supplies. I had a glucometer and extra insulin in my truck, along with my low snacks, but this was the additional bag.
Extra testing supplies, my ketone strips, extra pumps and CGMs, along with everything else I needed.
Harris had built a cabinet in the bathroom for all my backups, and bought me the zippered bag to hold the emergency supplies.
He’d done it without a word, just made it happen.
Fuck but I loved him.
“Go pee, please,” he whispered, pushing the bag into my hands, wanting me to check for ketones.
I grinned. “Candice is back in five minutes, and then I will.”
“Good boy.”
The words sent a shiver down my spine and I scowled at him, but he knew I didn’t mean it. In fact, it was the complete opposite. But then again, everything he did and said worked for me. He never asked more than I could give, and he gave me more than I asked for.
“What’s the bet ketones are small or less?” I batted my eyes innocently, not willing to admit I’d been staying very well hydrated.
“You know the bet,” he said, voice low. “You get a good reading, you get your favorite reward.”
“I love you so much,” I said, my body heating at just the thought.
“As I love you. Let’s hope you win. Candice is back.”
I raced to the bathroom, bag in hand. As I shut the door behind me, a burst of happiness escaped with a sigh.
I’d had no idea I’d find my future in this place.
In that man. All I’d been trying to do was deliver a sleigh to a friend.
I’d never thought Barrett would offer me a lifeline, that a delivery mishap would put me in Harris’s path, and that the magic of the holidays would bring me a man to love forever.
I’d thought the virus that knocked out my pancreas had ruined my life. But maybe it had just set me on my path to find love.
Want to see how it all began? Check out Morgan and Barrett's story Home for the Hawley-Daze