Epilogue
Cindy
It’s been three whole years since that day in the woods. Since I ran. Since I fell. Since he found me.
I still remember the way the air smelled that day, sharp and smoky, wild with pine and something electric I didn’t have a name for back then. Now I do.
It was Daniel.
And every day since has been a gift.
We live just a short walk from the old ranger outpost now, just us and Lucy and another pup Daniel rescued last month—I named him Rocky.
Daniel rebuilt the cabin piece by piece, nestled right into the hillside.
It’s all windows and warmth and firelight, and at night when it storms, he holds me like the world might break without me in it.
Two years ago, we got married in a small clearing where the pines parted like they’d created a clearing just for us.
No frills, no big fuss. Just us, the dogs, Ben, a few close friends, and the sound of the wind in the trees.
I wore boots under my dress and Daniel wore that cocky, love-drunk smile that still gives me goose bumps.
He promised to take care of me. And damn, has he made good on that.
He still works with the fire crews, now more focused on aerial support and logistics, but when he’s home, he’s home.
He kisses me like I’m air and he eats my pancakes like I’m a Michelin-star chef.
He’s carved out a space for me here, in his world, where I never feel small or like I have to be someone else to be loved.
Sometimes I ride with him when he’s scouting potential fire zones. I pack us lunches and sit with my feet on the dash while he points out changes in tree lines, shifts in underbrush, wind behavior, all with that deep, thoughtful voice of his.
He’s so good at what he does, and I love watching him work.
When I’m not with him, I’m here in my little shop in town.
It’s called Pine & Trinket—a cozy, eclectic space full of handmade candles, tiny wood carvings, jewelry, crystals, old books, and hand-drawn maps of the trails nearby.
I make a lot of the items myself, with Daniel’s help on the wood pieces.
Tourists eat it up. Locals stop in just to talk.
It’s become a haven. A place that smells like lavender and cedarwood and feels like a second heart.
Three years ago, I met the man who would change everything. The man who would rewrite my story.
Oddly enough…I’m grateful to Lyle.
Not for what he did. That will never be excused. But because that chain of events led me to Daniel.
And justice was served. I pressed charges, and Lyle’s sentence included a restraining order, probation, and therapy mandated by the court. I haven’t seen or heard from him in over two years. He’s not even in the state anymore.
My mom…well, things are different now. After I told her I wasn’t coming home unless Lenny was out of the picture, she finally saw the truth for herself.
She divorced him a year later and started therapy.
We’re rebuilding. Slowly. Carefully. She still tries too hard sometimes, but… she’s trying. And I can live with that.
Today, though, I’m not thinking about the past.
I’m thinking about tonight.
I leave the shop early, flipping the little sign to Closed .
Tonight, we’re celebrating something special.
I lock the door with a giddy anticipation bubbling in my chest. My boots crunch across the gravel as I make my way to the truck, the brown paper grocery bag in the passenger seat filled with his favorite things—steak, whiskey, and dark chocolate.
Back at the cabin, I light every candle we own.
The fireplace crackles in the background.
I cook slowly, humming to myself while the meat sears and the potatoes bake.
I throw one of Daniel’s flannel shirts over my cotton dress and dab a little pine-scented oil behind my ears. The whole place smells like love.
But that’s not the real surprise.
That will come after dinner, when we’re full and lazy and tangled on the couch, his hand resting on my belly like it always does when he’s winding down. That’s when I’m going to tell him.
I hear the sound of his truck pulling down our gravel driveway, and my heart skips a beat even as I run over to the window to confirm.
Crap. He’s home early.
Panic flutters in my chest and I spin in a full circle, eyeing the dining table that I haven’t finished setting.
“Well, there goes the surprise,” I mutter, rushing toward the bouquet on the counter and nearly knocking over a mason jar full of wooden spoons.
It’s my fault for daydreaming all day instead of actually hurrying my plans along.
I barely make it to the kitchen doorway before I hear the front door open and close with a familiar thunk, followed by the heavy, comforting sound of his boots on the wood floor.
And then…there he is.
All six-foot-whatever of Daniel Foster, framed in the doorway like the universe built him for moments like this. His hair’s a little damp from the rain, his shirt tight across those broad shoulders, and he’s holding a bouquet of wildflowers in one big, calloused hand.
A smile spreads slowly across his face, all soft edges and molten heat, and just like that, all my frantic plans melt right into the floor.
“Hey, baby,” he says, voice warm and low. “Happy anniversary.”
God. Three years and he still makes me breathless.
I blink, then break into a grin and cross the kitchen toward him. “You’re early,” I say, trying for a stern voice, but it comes out breathless.
“Caught a ride back with one of the crew,” he says, setting the flowers on the counter before pulling me flush against him. “Didn’t wanna waste a second of today without you.”
And then he kisses me.
Hot, slow, toe-curling. Like he’s remembering every other time we’ve kissed and promising ten thousand more. When he finally pulls back, I’m clinging to him like a lifeline, my knees barely working.
“These are beautiful,” I whisper, nodding at the flowers.
“Not as beautiful as you,” he replies smoothly. “Place smells amazing, by the way. You making me dinner or starting a forest fire in my pants?”
I laugh, swatting his chest playfully as I step back. “Both, apparently.”
He leans in, sniffing lightly at my neck, then groans like a man on the edge. “Mmm. You smell like heaven. Like pine and sugar and something sinful. I think I’d rather skip straight to dessert.”
I arch a brow. “Pretty sure I’m still basting the potatoes.”
“You can baste me instead.” His grin turns wicked.
“Oh my God.” I roll my eyes, giggling, and turn to open the oven. “You are impossible.”
“Damn right,” he says, stepping up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist, hard chest pressing into my back. “Impossible for anyone else to ever have you.”
“I wasn’t planning on sharing,” I murmur, melting into his hold.
He brushes my hair aside and plants a kiss just beneath my ear. “You smell too good. You know that?”
“You already said that.”
“I’ll keep saying it. Smells like…” He sniffs again, lower this time. “My favorite thing.”
“You’re obsessed,” I whisper, biting my lip as I fight a shiver.
He spins me around, gripping my hips. “Damn right I’m obsessed. Three years, Cindy, and you still make me feel like I can conquer the world.”
“Maybe you can.”
“Maybe I can.” He leans down and noses my cheek. “But right now, I’m starving.”
“For dinner?” I ask, playing dumb.
“For you,” he growls.
The way he says it…
It’s feral.
And I like it.
I shiver, sliding my hands up his chest slowly. “You sayin’ you wanna eat me for dinner?”
He flashes that slow, predatory smirk that always ruins me. “I’m saying forget the steak. I’m feasting on you.”
He grabs my waist from behind and spins me around. “I’m gonna make you come so hard you see stars.”
He hoists me up against the counter, roughly pushing my dress up to my waist. “Damn, you were ready for me, weren’t you?” he asks gruffly, slowly running his palm over my bare ass.
“Always am.”
He growls. I hear the sound of his belt buckles snapping and before I know it, I can feel his tip pressing against my entrance. “Who owns this pussy?” he asks, his voice sending chills through me.
“You do,” I say quickly. “It’s yours, all yours.”
He chuckles darkly. “And who makes you feel good?” He slides himself through my slick folds, teasing me the way he knows will make me beg.
“You do! Please, Daniel, I need—”
My words cut off with a groan as he slides into me with slow, devastating precision, his breath hot against my ear.
“Jesus,” he groans, holding me tight against the counter. “Three years and you still feel like fucking heaven.”
I push backward, pulling him deeper. His hands grip my hips like he never wants to let go. I bite my lip, arching into him, every nerve ending on fire.
“Fuck me, Daniel, please…” I whisper. And that’s all the urging he needs.
He slams into me in one hard, controlled thrust. I scream his name, pleasure shooting through me like thunder on a stormy day. He doesn’t relent, one deep thrust at a time, until I’m riding on the edge of my orgasm, begging him to make me come.
“Not yet, baby. Hold on for me a little longer,” he commands. He reaches around me to tug at my sensitive nipples, and I gasp at the dual sensations of pleasure and pain.
“Please, Daniel, I need—I’m so close…please.” I’m almost incoherent with pleasure, all my senses on fire.
He slams into me a few more times, whispering praise in my ear, how I’m so good for him, how he’ll always make me feel good, how my pleasure is his to give.
And then, “Come for me, baby,” and immediately my walls are squeezing tight around him as I convulse on his cock, and we’re both falling, spiraling.
I’m breathing hard, fighting to draw air into my lungs.
And then he spins me around and seizes my mouth in a deep kiss, robbing me of breath all over again.
I don’t mind one bit. I could die now and I’d be the happiest woman to ever live.
Much later, after he’s pulled two more orgasms out of me and we’ve managed to get around to dinner, I’m wrapped cozily in his arms in a tub filled with warm water and scented flowers. Finally, I say the words that’ve been floating on the edge of my tongue all day.
“I’m pregnant.”
His body tenses against mine and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. When he does, his voice is thick with emotion.
“What? Really?”
I reach for his hand beneath the water and slowly guide it to my belly.
His breath catches, his eyes going wide with childlike awe. “Cindy…”
“I found out yesterday,” I say, my heart thudding. “I wanted tonight to be extra special before I told you.”
He stares at me, stunned for a long moment, then leans in, kisses me slow and deep, hand still resting on my stomach.
“I didn’t think I could love you more,” he whispers against my lips. “But somehow I do.”
My throat tightens with emotion. “Same here. You’re already everything I ever needed.”
He grins, misty-eyed, brushing my hair back. “I’m gonna be a daddy,” he says, in awe.
“The best one ever,” I whisper, leaning in to kiss him again.
He pulls me against his chest, one arm cradling my head while the other holds me even closer. “I love you, Cindy. I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” I tell him, laughing and blinking back the tears pooling in my eyes.
Three years ago, I never would have dreamed that my life could be so full of life and love and laughter. That a pair of arms wrapped around me could make me feel so safe and so whole. That everything would turn out so…perfect.
~The End