Epilogue #2
“Sure you’re not.” Pops hands me an envelope and a snow globe.
Not just any snow globe—this one has a sticker on the bottom that says it’s from a Charlotte area hospital.
“He’s been collecting these for you. Every time he travels for work, he brings one back.
He stops at every gift shop he can find.
Did you see all the ones at the welcome sign? ”
“Get to the point, Pops,” Greyson shouts from his perch in the dunk tank. “You’re skipping over the most important part.”
“I’m gettin’ there, ya ninny,” Pops calls over his shoulder. “Anyway,” he says, turning back to me. “He bought this one on his way out of the hospital when he was a teen.”
Savvy steps up next to me. “You’ve always resided in his heart, Clove. Now he’s ready to stand by your side too.”
I’m finding it really hard to speak. All the times he thought of me, even when we were apart, are displayed through these happy balls of glitter. It’s overwhelming me in the best way possible because this is love.
“Chief’s next,” Pops says, jerking his thumb toward the cram-the-cruiser booth. “And Clover? Whatever happens…” His voice softens in a way I’ve rarely heard. “You deserve this. All of it.” He presses the large target, and Greyson falls into the icy water.
I’m so choked up I have to swipe my nose with the back of my hand. So much for looking cute today. I’m pretty sure I now rival something from Stranger Things. I read the next letter through tear-filled eyes.
Honeybee,
You collect snow globes because each one holds a tiny world of happiness.
I want to build that for you. Not a tiny world, but a real one. A life where every day feels like shaking the globe and watching the sparkles fall.
Keep following.
—V
Chief’s standing by the police cruiser with Elle, who’s helping him cram more canned goods into the back seat. He manages to look gruff and emotional, while she’s just pure sunshine and frustration.
I know the feeling.
“I threatened to bury him in the woods if he hurt you,” he says without preamble. “Told him I knew places they’d never find a body and have friends who’d help.”
“I heard.”
“He looked me dead in the eye and said he understood.” Chief scoffs before taking a swig from his thermos. “That’s when I knew he was serious. A man who accepts a death threat without flinching is a man who knows what he wants.”
He hands me an envelope and a folded piece of paper.
“That’s from one of your letters,” he says. “One of the ones you wrote him years ago. I helped him frame it, and he carries a photocopy in his wallet. Real sucker for romance, that one.”
I unfold the paper with shaking hands and see a photocopy of my own handwriting from years ago.
I still believe you’ll find your way back to me. I’ll be here when you do. —Your Clover
The tears are falling so fast I don’t bother wiping them away anymore. But Chief does hand me a wad of tissues with a gesture that must mean I’m blowing some gnarly snot bubbles because he visibly relaxes after I clear my nose.
“Agnes is next,” Chief says gruffly. “Go on, open your letter and don’t keep him waiting. That boy is probably shitting bricks as it is.”
Opening the envelope, I read his words.
Honeybee,
You wrote that you’d be here when I found my way back.
You kept that promise for fourteen years.
Now let me keep mine.
One more stop.
—V
Agnes’s purple tent is at the edge of the fair, right where it always is, but tonight, it’s different.
The entrance is draped with fairy lights—actual fairies whose wings light up and flicker in the night. Photos are strung on golden sparkly thread, fluttering in the breeze.
These ones aren’t of our past though—they’re of our present. Valen standing between Greyson and Braxton. Me and Valen with Chief between us. Me, Madi, Elle, and Savvy surrounded by the Harrington brothers.
This is our family now, a glimpse into our future.
Madi and Agnes stand at the entrance with Pothole on a new crystal-encrusted leash.
“I told him you’d come,” Agnes says. “The cards never lie. I pulled the Lovers, the Sun, and the Ten of Cups. A perfect spread for a perfect ending.” She winks—or blinks—and when she laughs, I know she’s doing it on purpose. “Or should I say, a perfect beginning.”
Madi charges me and wraps me in a hug I can’t return because my hands are full of everything I’ve collected tonight. “I’m so happy for you,” she whispers. “Truly, seeing you shine is more than I could’ve ever hoped for you. I love you. We all love you. Now, go put that big guy out of his misery.”
Agnes pulls back the tent flap, and I step inside.
The interior has been transformed. More fairy lights. More photos. More honeybees painted on every surface. And in the center, standing exactly where the tarot table should be, is Valen.
He’s holding a single honey-gold rose, and he’s looking at me like I’m the only person in the world.
“Hi,” he says.
I laugh—a wet, overwhelmed sound—and say, “Hi yourself.”
“You followed the bees.”
“I followed the bees.” I hold up my collection—letters, honey, snow globe, my own words reflected at me. “And you wrote me letters.”
“I figured it was time I wrote some back.” He steps closer, and his nerves show by the twitching of his eyebrow. This man, who has faced down immeasurable danger without flinching, is nervous. “I have a lot to say.”
“You involved the entire town.”
“They insisted.” He frowns, but it quickly transforms into a reluctant smile. “Apparently, my plan was insufficient and lacked emotional resonance.” He makes air quotes. “Agnes can be so damn pushy.”
“So Agnes planned this?” I try not to let that little tidbit ruin whatever’s coming next.
“Betty planned the food. Pops handled logistics. Chief provided security, which I’m pretty sure just means he glared at anyone who got too close. Agnes did the tent. Roman complained the entire time but showed up anyway.”
He takes another step, close enough now that I can feel the warmth radiating off him.
“But no, Honeybee. I planned this. I may have had to watch thirty-five romantic comedies before my plan passed the town council that was created specifically to ensure I didn’t fuck this up, but I planned it, from my heart, for you.
And just because all of this isn’t enough, the Harringtons are outside, pretending they’re not pressed against the tent wall trying to listen. ”
On cue, I hear Chase’s voice. “We are not.”
Followed by Grant. “Shut up, Chase, you’re ruining it.”
Valen winks and takes my hand.
“Clover,” he says before shaking his head and starting over. “Calla was the girl who saved me before I knew I needed saving. And Clover is the woman who waited for me when she had every reason to give up.”
“Valen—” I’m not sure what I want to say. Even after all this time has passed, I still don’t resonate with Calla. Clover is who I became, who I created from the ashes of Calla.
“I’m not done.” He squeezes my hand. “Even when I was surrounded by family, I still felt alone. There was a hole in my chest that nothing could fill. Not my relationship with my cousins, not my aunt, who went above and beyond to make me feel loved. Nothing could ease the ache in my chest. But then I found you—or you found me—and everything finally made sense.”
He pauses, and I see him choosing his next words carefully.
“I used to think I needed to make up for what happened. Save so many people that the past couldn’t touch me anymore.
But I’ve learned that the boy who cut those brake lines—he’s part of who I am.
Not all of me. Not the best of me. But I can’t pretend he doesn’t exist.” His voice steadies.
“I’m learning to carry him instead of running from him.
And you—you taught me that carrying something doesn’t mean carrying it alone. ”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box.
My heart stops. The air in my lungs freezes as if they forgot they’re actually supposed to move air through and not trap it.
“I’ve already chosen you,” he says, opening the box to reveal a ring—a delicate gold band with a center stone the color of honey, flanked by two beautiful diamonds.
“I chose you when I came back. I chose you when I stayed. I choose you every single day when I wake up beside you and can’t believe I get to have this life. ”
He lowers himself to one knee. “But I want to choose you forever. Officially. In front of this whole ridiculous town and every single person who helped us find our way back to each other.”
I’m a blubbering mess who doesn’t know where to look.
“Calla O’Connell. Clover Danes. Clover Danforth. My Honeybee.” He looks up at me with certainty shining in his eyes. “Will you marry me?”
I don’t even hesitate. “Yes!” I say, barreling into him and sending us both careening into the tent. It crashes down around us while everyone on the outside hollers and shouts as they attempt to right the thing.
And amidst the chaos, Valen slides the ring onto my finger—a perfect fit, because of course it is—and then he’s on his feet, holding the fabric of the tent up with one hand and me with the other.
Then he kisses me like we’re the only two people in the world.
But we’re obviously not because the tent lifts away from our bodies and suddenly, we’re surrounded.
Chief is sobbing. Madi is sobbing. Savvy is pretending not to sob while Elle hands her tissues.
The Harrington brothers are doing that masculine back-slapping thing that men do when they want to express emotion but don’t know how.
Greyson and Braxton are grinning like idiots.
Agnes is proclaiming that she knew it all along while Pothole squeals his approval.
Chief raises his thermos. “To the happy couple. May you have a long life, and may Valen never forget that I know where to hide bodies.”
“Romantic as always, Chief,” Pops says. “Truly a poet.”
Valen pulls me closer, his forehead pressed against mine, blocking out the chaos for just a moment.
“Worth the wait?” he asks quietly.
I think about everything it took to get here. The letters. The years. The fear and the hiding and the counting my way through panic. The man who chased away my nightmares, and a life I never dared to dream of.
My hand drifts to my pocket, where the small wooden bee still lives—worn smooth, almost featureless from decades of anxious touching.
I no longer need it for good luck, but I keep it anyway—not as a talisman against fear, but as proof that even in the darkest places, love finds a way to plant seeds.
“Every single day,” I say. “Every single day was worth it.”
We’re not fixed. I know that. Some nights I still wake up with my foot on the floor, and some mornings Valen stares at his hands like he doesn’t recognize them.
We still have hard days, still have therapy appointments penciled into our calendars, still have moments where the past feels closer than it should be.
But we have this too—this messy, imperfect, loudly loved life. And that’s enough. It’s more than enough.
He kisses me again, soft and sweet, and around us, Happiness—the town, the feeling, the life we’ve built—celebrates.
Somewhere in the distance, the welcome sign glows with its lopsided honeybee standing guard over a town full of people who showed me what it means to bee-long.
And I’m never letting go.
What happens in Happiness, Georgia ten years later? A new, blossoming childhood love, reluctant bromances, and of course, chaos that can only come from big found families…