EPILOGUE
The Next Christmas
It’s snowing like mad. Fat flakes coast down, layering a thick blanket on everything outside the Vermont Rose Inn, as I adjust my tie for the third time in as many minutes.
“You're going to strangle yourself,” Justice says from his seat by the fireplace, looking annoyingly calm in his charcoal gray suit.
It looks like he’s posing for a magazine. The room a perfect setting for some New England travel mag. Exposed timber beams, stone fireplace, the whole place decorated in classic Vermont Christmas style.
“Helpful, thanks.” I yank the red silk loose and start again.
Calm, Spence.
Breathing deeply doesn’t help. It only fills my nose with pine, spruce and cinnamon scents from the decorations.
Beast appears in the doorway, his massive frame filling it completely. “She's almost ready. Rosalie says five minutes.”
Five minutes until my entire life changes and Liberty Cruze becomes Liberty McCallister.
“Breathe, brother,” Scout says, materializing with a tumbler of amber liquid. “Whiskey helps.”
“I'm good.” I wave it off, then reconsider and down it in one swallow.
The burn steadies me slightly, but I have a feeling nothing is going to prepare me for the moment my fiancée walks down the aisle.
“Come here, fool.” Justice crosses the room to fix my tie with practiced efficiency. “You remember what I told you when you asked for my blessing?”
“That you'd kill me if I hurt her?”
“After that.”
I search his face, seeing not my teammate but my soon-to-be brother-in-law. The man who raised Liberty when their parents didn’t. Who protected her fiercely and still struggles with letting anyone else take on that role.
“You said she deserves to be happy, and somehow, impossibly, I do that.”
“Damn right you do.” He straightens my lapels, his expression softening. “I've never seen her like this, man. She’s free. Joyful like she was before the terrible things happened to her…”
“You don’t need to say anything else.”
He stops, nods once, his expression heavy with sadness about what his sister endured from her violent ex-boyfriend.
“I'm going to spend the rest of my life making sure she stays that way,” I assure him.
We’re both silent for a beat. She’s ours now. I’ll keep her safe, protect her heart. But Justice will be there guarding our six as well.
“I know you will.” He grips my shoulder briefly, then steps back. “Now let's get you married so we can go raise some hell on those snowmobiles.”
“You might be raising hell tonight on a snow machine. I’ve got a marriage to consummate.”
He shudders. “For the love of all things sibling, do not talk about that.”
I grin at him. “Just riling you up, man.”
“I’m riled up enough already. Let’s go before I change my mind about you.”
All humor evaporates when we walk down the long hallway and enter the great room. My stride falters. Feet coming to an abrupt stop.
Hell, yes. Now this is some Christmas magic.
The room has been transformed into something from a dream. Candles flicker on every surface. White roses and evergreens drape along an aisle down the center of the room.
There’s an arch absolutely dripping with white flowers and twinkling lights.
Our friends and family fill the chairs on either side of the room. Not everyone could make it—for real this time—but most Agile’s second team are here.
Marshall is waiting by the arch. Danee, his wife is in the front row.
Truck and Allison meet my eyes as I walk down the aisle. Eli and Marianna both grin at me, probably enjoying my stressed state.
Scout and Aria are whispering to each other. Camille clutches a tissue, wiping her eyes while Beast takes up too much room, causing his leg to stick out into the aisle.
Rosalie is watching me from the arch. Her wine-red dress a contrast to the rest of the room. She looks as emotional as I feel.
“No crying,” I stage-whisper to her with a wink. “One sniffle and I’m gonna lose it.”
She laughs, dabbing her lashes. “I’m counting on it.”
So am I.
I take my position, Justice at my left as my best man, and try to remember not to lock my knees so I don’t face plant during the most important moment of my life.
The guys would love that far too much.
The guitarist in the corner kicks off something soft and beautiful. I don't know what it is. Liberty and Rosalie picked it. Truthfully, I can barely hear it over my pounding heart.
Steady, Spencer.
Someone clears their throat. All heads whip around. And there she is.
Liberty steps into the room, and everything else disappears.
“Good God,” I choke out. “I’m one lucky man.”
My bride is an utter knockout. She’s beautiful every day, but wearing a simple ivory gown that skims her curves and flows to the floor, is almost more than I can take.
I can’t wait to knock that elaborate hairstyle lose and scatter the flowers all over the bed when I make love to my wife for the first time.
My eyes can’t leave hers.
We don’t glance away. Not for a second.
I've faced down enemy combatants, jumped from planes, and diffused bombs in crazy environments.
Nothing has ever sobered me more or thrilled me more than watching Liberty Cruze walk toward me to become my wife.
When she reaches me, she passes off her bouquet so she can put her hands in mine causing heat to permeate my whole body.
“Hey, gorgeous.”
“Hi,” she whispers, her eyes shining with love.
It’s just us. Nothing matters now but this moment.
“You look incredible,” I say, not caring at all I sound like I’ve swallowed a flaming knife.
“You clean up darn well yourself, big guy.”
Marshall, clears his throat with barely suppressed amusement. “If you two are done being adorable, we have a wedding to conduct.”
Soft laughter ripples through the room.
“We are gathered here on Christmas Eve,” Marshall begins, his words rising over the crackles of the fire. “To celebrate. You’re surrounded by the people who love you most, the people who conspired to hook you up, who are here to witness your marriage.”
So it’s admitted on the record. Before now, the whole lot of them were evasive.
Sneaky bunch.
Marshall pauses, looking over at me. “I’ve known this man for over a decade now. Served beside him in combat. Seen him at his worst and his best. And I can tell you without hesitation that I have never seen him as alive as he is when he's with Liberty.”
Camille makes a sound and Beast loops his arm around her. Rosalie lost the battle, her tears as streaking down her face, despite her smile.
I’m swallowing every few seconds.
He says, “Liberty came into our lives carrying her own battles, her own scars.
But she also brought light. A reminder that strength doesn't always look like muscles and tactical training—sometimes it looks like choosing to let someone in again after trust has been broken. Choosing to love again after love has hurt you.”
I squeeze Liberty's hands. Her fingers are trembling, but she’s steady. Marshall couldn’t have said it any more perfectly.
“Spencer, Liberty wanted to let you speak first.”
I nod, as I try to find words adequate for what I'm feeling. I practiced obsessively, but now everything feels too insignificant. So I come from the heart.
“Liberty, you walked into my life, a ray of sunshine in the darkest of storms. I had lost my way, but you showed up and gave me something I didn’t dare dream I could have.”
Her eyes never leave mine, tears building on her lashes, and I pause when a tremor runs through my chest.
“I should have ignored your brother’s warnings the first time I met you, because that day it felt like I finally wanted to be alive. I owe everyone who conspired for us to be alone. I got the best Christmas present ever. You. And I couldn’t stay away, even with death threats.”
I brush my thumb over her knuckles. “Thank you for trusting me.”
Her tears spill over, and I catch them with my thumbs. Cradling her face. “You are the world to me.”
My voice cracks on the last words, but I push through.
“I swear to you, I will spend the rest of my life making sure you know how precious you are. How loved. How safe you'll always be in my hands, in my heart, in our home.”
Rosalie is openly crying now. Justice has abandoned his post and has her in his arms like the good man he is. Like the husband I vow to be.
“Liberty,” Marshall says gently. “Your turn, let’s see if you can make him cry.”
She takes a shaky breath, her fingers tightening on mine now that I’m holding her hands again. “Spencer Saint McCallister, you terrified me at first.”
This is something she’s never shared before, it stalls my breath to think I scared her.
But she soothes my panic when she says, “Not because I thought you'd hurt me.
I knew from the beginning you never would.
You terrified me because wanting you felt dangerous.
Like stepping off a cliff without knowing if there'd be anything to catch me, but knowing it would be the ride of a lifetime.”
I stroke my thumb over her hand, silently promising I'll always be there to catch her. I will. That’s my vow.
“I'd spent years protecting myself,” she adds quietly. “Building walls so high and thick that nothing could get through to hurt me again. Then you showed up and just... waited. Patient and steady and so careful with me that I wanted to take the risk.”
Fresh tears coat her thick eyelashes and I fight the urge to drag her into my arms, but instead, I murmur, “I love you.”
Smiling through her tears, she says, “You gave me space when I needed it. You showed me what it means to be cherished. Protected not because I'm fragile, but because I'm precious to you.”
“You are,” I rasp. “So damn precious.”
“I know.” She glances around the room, one by one connecting with the people who are most important to us, before she looks at me again.
“So here, in front of everyone who matters, I'm giving you all of me. My heart. My trust. My future. My forever. I choose you, Spencer. Every day, for the rest of our lives, I choose you.”