Epilogue
Julia
It’s ninety degrees in the middle of the city, and the only thing hotter than the air outside is the inside of Ace’s and my new apartment.
Filled to the brim with our parents, our furniture, and about fifty pictures of Ace and me being hung at various angles on the walls, there’s barely enough space for a breath, let alone a breeze.
I’m relieved when I see my dad fiddle with the AC temperature, hopefully turning that baby down to a cool sixty degrees, but that relief is short-lived when I look around the room and see the current state of our move.
Boxes are everywhere, half opened, stacked like a game of Jenga, and threatening to fall over every time someone brushes past them. Cassie and my mom are fluttering around our new apartment like it’s the set of an HGTV show, hanging framed photos of Ace and me with alarming enthusiasm.
I don’t even know where they got all these pictures. Some of them look like they’ve been pulled from the depths of our childhoods, and others must’ve been ripped straight from our Instagram stories and printed off at CVS when we weren’t paying attention.
“Oh my God, look at this one!” Georgia says, holding up a photo of Ace and me at the lake house last summer. I’m laughing with my mouth wide open, and Ace is dripping wet beside me, flipping off the camera.
Cassie grabs it like it’s a family heirloom. “That’s going over the toilet in the guest bathroom.”
Our new place is only a block from Dickson’s campus, in the same building where we lived last year—but we’ve upgraded to a two-bedroom this time. Ace insisted we needed a “study room,” though we both know, if I’m not careful, he’ll turn into a snack closet and nap spot by midterms.
Still, we’ve got more space. A bigger kitchen. A real living room. And a little terrace that looks out over the street.
It’s our first apartment together. And it’s freaking perfect.
Meanwhile, my dad and Thatch are locked in what I can only assume is a testosterone-fueled competition over who can carry the most furniture without throwing out their backs. When Ace started to make it look too easy, they told him to fuck off and find something else to do.
“Tell me again how I ended up moving my daughter into an apartment with your son?” my dad mutters as he drops our coffee table onto the rug.
Thatch grins and claps him on the shoulder. “It’s a beautiful thing, Kline. A Kelly and a Brooks under one roof. It’s like fate and karma had a beautiful baby. We should get matching family shirts made. Ooh, or a crest.”
My dad glares at him but says nothing.
But Thatch isn’t done. “I mean, first college sweethearts… Next stop, wedding bells.”
Ace’s smile is soft and easy as he turns to my dad. “Mr. Brooks, should I get your approval now—or wait until we graduate?”
“Are you serious right now, son?” My dad blinks.
Ace keeps on smiling—so much so, he’s even nodding now too.
“Shotguns,” my dad says pointedly, even raising one eyebrow in Ace’s direction. “I have two now.”
Oh boy. Here we go.
“Dad, can we hold off on the threatening to murder my boyfriend talk until we finish moving?” I quickly question, hoping a little levity might defuse the tension.
“Yeah, Kline,” Thatch adds, but he stops talking when his phone starts ringing loudly from his pocket. He pulls it out, glances at the screen, and groans.
“It’s Gunnar,” he mutters as he puts the phone to his ear. “If you’re not on US soil, I’m going to call the US Embassy and tell them to keep your ass wherever you are.”
There’s a pause, and then his eyes widen. “What do you mean, you’re at the Manhattan police station?”
Ace turns toward his dad, brows raised.
“I have a license, Dad!” I hear Gunnar’s voice yell through the phone.
“You don’t have a fucking CDL license, Gunnar!” Thatch yells back. “You can’t fluffing drive a semitruck through Times Square!”
Cassie looks up from her decorative pillow arranging. “What happened now?”
Thatch slaps a hand over the speaker and mutters, “Our son’s been brought in for driving a tractor trailer through the city. He says it was for his business.”
“His business?” Cassie questions in confusion. “He doesn’t have a fucking business.”
My dad shakes his head, whistling sharply and counting his blessings all at once. “I guess I should just be thankful Julia’s dating Ace and not Gunnar.”
“Cass,” Thatch says, pointing at her like he’s delivering devastating news. “We have to go down to the Manhattan police station.”
“We?” She snorts as she holds up another photo of Ace and me toward the wall. “You mean you.”
“Yes, we.” Thatch sighs. “He’s your son, Cassie.”
“Yeah, but Ace is my favorite son today.”
“Shall I remind you that our son could be going to jail?”
“Thatch, you and I both know jail is the last place Gunnar should be. He’ll learn too much. Make too many friends. I’ll end up entertaining men with teardrop face tattoos named Snake and Meathead. I’m not cut out for that life. I don’t even know how to make toilet wine.”
“Is there a point to this?” Thatch questions, both hands on his hips now.
“Yeah,” Cassie retorts. “The point is that you better get your big ass down there and fix it.”
Thatch turns toward Kline with a hopeful look. “Kline? A little help?”
Kline sighs the loudest dad-sigh in history. “Let’s go get your delinquent.”
As they head for the door, I hear Thatch already calling his lawyer. “Caplin Hawkins, my guy. I’ve got another problem…”
I turn back to the chaos of the apartment, now quieter with half the parents gone. Cassie and my mom are still hanging framed memories like they’re trying to turn our apartment into a museum of “The Love Story of Ace and Julia.”
Ace sidles up beside me and grabs my hand, tugging me gently.
“Come here,” he whispers before pulling me into our walk-in closet and pointedly shutting the door.
I giggle. “What are you doing?”
“Is it creeping you out a little bit how many framed pictures of us our moms are hanging?”
“Creeping me out?” I laugh. “It’s like Chucky started a romance magazine. I already planned to take some down after they leave.”
He grins and leans in to kiss me. “Hello, roomie.”
“Hey, yourself,” I say, smiling up at him. “You ready to live with me?”
He nods and rubs his nose against mine.
“You do realize that means you’ll never be able to escape me, right?”
He nods again and presses a soft kiss to my lips.
“You’re going to have to wake up to me every morning. And I’ll be the last face you see every night. I’m going to be—”
“Jules, babe, you’re making me hard,” he interrupts, grinning like the menace he is. “So, if you don’t mind, let’s keep the dirty talk to a minimum until our mothers leave.”
I burst out laughing, burying my face in his chest.
And Ace wraps his big, strong arms around me, pressing another kiss to the top of my head. “Love you, Lia.”
I smile against his shirt. “Love you too, roomie.”
Man, life sure is good. You know, besides Ace’s brother possibly going to jail. Really, though, that’s another sign that everything is right in the world.
Saturday, July 4th
Ace
Fourth of July at Aunt Paula and Uncle Brad’s lake house is always a big deal.
And this year is no different.
The whole crew is here. My mom and dad and my brother Gunnar, who is miraculously not in jail. Julia’s parents, Kline and Georgia, and her sister Evie. And Wes, Winnie, Lexi, and her little brother Wes Jr.
Lexi and Blake Boden are still together, stronger than ever.
Blake will be joining the NFL draft this year, and all eyes are on Wes Lancaster and the New York Mavericks to see if they’re going to draft him.
Word on the street is that he’s a first-round draft pick, but there’s obviously no good in counting chickens before the eggs are hatched.
The entire Winslow clan is scattered across the lawn and deck—Wendy, Howard, Remy, Flynn, Ty, Jude, their wives, their kids. It’s chaos, but it’s our chaos. The Hayes family is here too. Finn, his mom, his brothers Reece, Jack, and Travis, and his sister Willow.
Basically, it’s a full house in the best way, and it’s exactly how Fourth of July should always be.
I’m standing on the deck, watching the lake shimmer under the July sun. It’s hot as fuck outside, but I can’t stop grinning.
Julia is out on the water, floating in an inner tube, her hair slicked back, sunglasses on, laughing at something Scottie just said from the tube beside her.
Scottie’s recovery has been nothing short of miraculous.
She’s walking again—slowly, with a cane—but she’s walking. And every day, she gets stronger.
My mind flits back to last year, when I was standing right here, watching Julia the same way. I knew I loved her then. I just hadn’t told her yet. Hell, I even kissed her that night and called it a best-friend kiss because I was too much of a fucking coward to tell her the truth.
But now, she’s mine. And I get to kiss her every damn night. Every morning. Every chance I get.
Thank fuck.
Behind me, the deck creaks with new arrivals, and I pray to the fire marshall and whoever constructed it that it can handle the load.
I glance back and see Gunnar strutting toward the drinks table like he owns the place.
He grabs a glass of lemonade and hands it to Finn’s sister Willow like it was his idea all along.
“Seriously?” Evie huffs from her spot in the shade. “What about me?”
“You have legs, don’t you?” Gunnar shrugs, already walking away.
Evie flips him off.
Before she can rise out of her chair in dramatic teenage fury, Reece—Finn’s eldest brother—slides a glass of lemonade in front of her like it’s nothing.
“Thank you,” she says sweetly, her voice gone soft as she stares up at him like he’s the fucking sun and the moon and the stars. It’s a teenage fantasy daydream happening right in front of my eyes, and I find myself blinking hard to make it go away.
Slow your roll, Evie. Reece is definitely too old for you.
I turn my attention back to the lake. Scottie and Finn are joined by Blake and Lexi, but there’s no sign of my girl. I start scanning the waterline, frowning.
Where the hell did she go?
Arms wrap around my waist from behind, soaking the back of my shirt. “Hey, roomie,” the voice of the girl of my dreams whispers against my spine.
I turn to find Julia grinning up at me, soaked and glowing.
“Hey, roomie,” I say, brushing her wet hair off her face.
“Don’t you want to come swim with me?”
“I was enjoying the show from here. Very Baywatch, Jules.”
She laughs. “Were you watching me like a stalker again?”
“You know it, babe.”
She plants a kiss on my chest. “Well, now that I’m up here, I think I’ll make a sandwich.”
“Nope.” I scoop her into my arms. “You’re gonna sit your cute little ass right here while I go make you one. The AC is cranked in there. You’ll freeze your tits off.”
She rolls her eyes but melts into the chair I lower her into.
But as I head toward the door, it swings open and out walk Jack and Travis Hayes. But they’re not alone. There’s a girl following behind them. A girl I’ve never seen before. She’s petite, brown-eyed, and nervous as hell, glancing around like she’s one deep breath away from bolting.
Jack and Travis are too busy arguing over God only knows what to introduce her, but Julia doesn’t miss a beat.
My girl stands and smiles. “Hi, I’m Julia.”
“Piper,” the girl says, reaching out. “Hi.”
“Oh shit,” Jack mutters. “Everyone, this is Piper.”
Piper smiles awkwardly but also elbows Jack in the stomach.
Jack chuckles and wraps his arm around Piper’s shoulders. “Piper just transferred to Dickson, so Trav and I have taken her under our wing.”
Piper smiles up at Jack like a girl who really likes Jack.
“I’m currently trying to talk Piper into being our roommate next year,” Travis chimes in, and now Piper is smiling at Travis like a girl who really likes Travis. “We have the extra space in our apartment, and the dorms are all filled.”
“You do not have the space,” Piper says quietly. “One of you would be sleeping on the couch all year.”
Travis shrugs and smiles. “I already told you, babe, I don’t mind.”
“I also don’t mind,” Jack adds.
I look toward Julia, my mind a little confused on what the arrangement is here and if we’re about to be in the middle of a Why Choose-style romance, but when Julia discreetly widens her eyes at me, I know I’m not the only one.
Eventually, Jack and Travis lead Piper down to the lake, where everyone else is located, and Julia moves as close to me as she possibly can, whispering, “What the hell was that?”
“No idea, Jules.” I shake my head and run a hand through my hair as I watch the trio head for the lake. “But it seems like Dickson is going to be interesting this year.”
She snorts. “Let’s hope those boys don’t take a page from your book and start fires in their apartment.”
I laugh. “Jules, honey, it feels like they’re already playing with fire as we speak.”
She rolls her eyes and stands up on her tippy-toes to kiss my lips. “So…about that sandwich?”
I kiss her again. “I’m on it.”
“I sure do love a man who knows his place in the kitchen,” she teases, giving me a light smack on the ass before sitting back down.
But I can’t let her have the last word.
I stride back over, lift her into my arms, and kiss her hard. “Oh, Jules,” I murmur against her lips. “You’re gonna pay for that later.”
“A girl can hope,” she says, and I kiss her again.