Epilogue
Nadia
One Year Later
There’s glitter glue on my elbow, a paper crown tucked in my purse, and a love note from a nine-year-old scrawled in pink crayon that says “Mrs. Nadia is the best teacher in the world.”
I think I won the lottery.
Lovestone Ridge is small, but it’s mine now. Mine in a way that feels sacred.
I drive past the coffee truck every morning and get my latte from Ava, who always adds a heart in the foam and a wink I pretend not to see.
I wave to the neighbors now, faces I’ve come to know, people who smile and stop to chat when I water the porch plants.
It’s a far cry from the early days, when Saint and I were holed up in his tiny cabin in the woods.
That place was quiet, tucked away, safe in its solitude.
It gave us space to breathe. But this? This is a home.
With creaky floors and porch lights, wind chimes on the railing, and a garden box I keep meaning to weed. It’s bigger. Brighter. Ours.
I grade papers on the porch with a blanket over my knees. I park in the same spot. I kiss my husband before work, and again when I walk through the front door.
And yes—husband.
One week after I met him, Saint slid a ring onto my finger under a sky full of stars and told me he didn’t believe in waiting when something felt like truth.
He was right.
It was fast. Reckless. Probably insane.
But it was real. And it’s only gotten better.
The wedding was small—just family, just the club.
Nya, who owns a flower shop, made me a bouquet that looked like something pulled from a dream.
Wild, messy, perfect. Sage baked the cake, with Havoc helping in the kitchen like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Turns out the man knows his way around an oven. Still not over that.
Saint and I talk about the future a lot.
About noise. About laughter. About kids who grow up feeling safe.
Held. Unshakably loved. Not kids who learn to flinch at footsteps.
Not kids who go to sleep with a plan for how to run.
Ava and I never had the luxury of wondering if we were safe. We knew we weren’t.
But we’re safe now.
The guilt I used to carry for leaving Ava behind doesn’t rule me the way it once did. It still stings sometimes, usually when it’s quiet, usually when I see her smile. But she’s happy now. Loved like she should’ve always been. Viper treats her like she’s the sun he wakes up for. And she lets him.
By the time I get home from school today, the sun is low and warm, casting long shadows over the porch. I slip off my flats, nudge the front door open, and step into the scent of cedar and coffee.
Saint’s already there, sitting on the couch with his cut tossed over the armrest and a half-read book in his hand. His boots are off, one foot bare and the other still socked, like he got too comfortable halfway through undressing.
When he sees me, the corners of his mouth twitch up. “There she is.”
“I was wiping glitter off my desk and lost track of time,” I say, dropping my bag near the door.
He sets the book aside and stands. “You’re glowing.”
I huff. “I’m tired.”
“You’re beautiful.”
I roll my eyes and smile, toeing off my second sock. “You’re biased.”
He closes the distance in three easy steps, pulling me into his arms like he’s been waiting all day to do just that. I sink into him, melting into the familiar feel of solid muscle, leather, and home. His mouth brushes my temple.
“I missed you today,” I murmur.
“Missed you too,” he says into my hair.
His hands are under my blouse a heartbeat later, warm and rough and reverent. He lifts me like I weigh nothing, carrying me down the hall to our room.
Clothes trail behind us: my skirt, my blouse, his shirt. His body covers mine as he lowers me to the bed, mouth finding my throat, my collarbone, the inside of my wrist like it’s the first time all over again.
Saint makes love like he listens to every sound I make. Like he wants to memorize each sigh, each gasp, each whispered plea. And I let him, because when he touches me like this, I forget there was ever a time I didn’t know what it meant to feel safe.
His lips trail lower, pressing against the swell of my breast above my bra. He unhooks it with a flick of his fingers, sliding the straps down my shoulders.
My nipples harden in the cool air, and he takes one into his mouth, sucking gently at first, then harder, his tongue circling the peak.
I arch into him, my fingers threading through his hair, holding him close. The pull in my core tightens with every swirl of his tongue.
"Nadia," he murmurs against my skin, voice husky and low.
His hand cups my other breast, thumb brushing over the nipple until I whimper. He switches sides, lavishing the same attention, drawing out moans that echo in the quiet room. I feel exposed, cherished, every inch of me awakening under his gaze.
He kisses down my stomach, his stubble scraping lightly against my skin.
His fingers hook into my panties, tugging them down my thighs.
I kick them off, spreading my legs as he settles between them.
His breath fans over my pussy, warm and teasing.
He looks up at me, eyes dark with desire, seeking permission in that silent way of his.
"Please," I breathe, and that's all he needs.
His mouth descends, tongue licking a slow stripe along my folds.
I gasp, hips bucking up. He holds me steady with strong hands on my thighs, spreading me wider.
He laps at my clit, firm and insistent, then sucks it between his lips.
Pleasure coils tight inside me, building with each flick of his tongue.
Saint knows my body like a map he's drawn himself.
He slides a finger inside me, then two, curling them to hit that spot that makes stars burst behind my eyelids.
I cry out, grinding against his hand, his mouth.
He hums in approval, the vibration sending shocks through me.
My breaths come in pants, body trembling as the edge approaches.
"Come for me, love," he says, voice muffled against my wetness. His fingers thrust deeper, tongue relentless. I shatter, waves crashing over me, pussy clenching around him as I moan his name.
He doesn't stop until I'm boneless, kissing his way back up my body.
I taste myself on his lips when he kisses me, deep and claiming.
My hands roam his chest, down to his pants.
I fumble with his belt, shoving them down along with his boxers.
His cock springs free, hard and thick, the tip already glistening.
I wrap my hand around him, stroking from base to head. He groans into my mouth, hips thrusting into my grip.
"Nadia..." His voice breaks, raw with need. I guide him to my entrance, rubbing the head along my slick folds.
He pushes in slowly, inch by inch, filling me completely. We both still, savoring the stretch, the connection. His forehead rests against mine, breaths mingling.
"You feel like home," he whispers, and my heart swells even as my body adjusts to him.
Then he moves, pulling out almost all the way before sliding back in. I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him deeper. He sets a rhythm, steady and deep, each thrust hitting just right. His hand finds mine, lacing our fingers, pinning them above my head.
I meet every roll of his hips, our bodies slick with sweat.
He kisses my neck, my jaw, murmuring how beautiful I am, how much he loves me.
The words weave into the pleasure, making it more intense, more intimate.
I feel him everywhere. Inside me, around me, in the way his eyes lock on mine, full of devotion.
The pace quickens, his thrusts harder, more urgent. I dig my nails into his back, chasing the building heat. "Saint... I'm close," I gasp.
"Me too. Together." He reaches between us, thumb circling my clit. It pushes me over, orgasm ripping through me, pussy pulsing around his cock. He follows with a guttural groan, burying deep as he comes, filling me with hot spurts.
Later, we lie tangled in the sheets, skin to skin, sweat cooling. His fingers stroke my hip while my head rests on his chest.
“I love you,” I whisper, drawing lazy circles against his ribs.
He presses a kiss to my forehead, then to my lips. “I love you, Nadia.”
Sometimes the world breaks you.
But sometimes it puts you back together in places you didn’t know were cracked.
Like a little town in the mountains.
Like a classroom full of kids with sticky fingers and big dreams.
Like the arms of a man who saw you on your darkest day and decided you were light.
I never thought I’d be a wife.
But here I am.
His forever.