EPILOGUE KADE
SUNDAY, ONE WEEK LATER
Sage slips her arm through mine as we step onto the porch. I scan the yard—still half expecting the sheriff’s cruiser to appear out of nowhere. Old habits die hard, I guess. No more snooping, no more questions about a missing father or a freak accident in a river. We’re clear.
When we push through the front door, the welcome assault of roast beef, gravy, and fresh biscuits floats from the kitchen, where Grandma Jo is most definitely reigning supreme. As we edge closer, I hear Cole, Jace, and Rhett talking.
We reach the dining room, where the table’s already set. Grandma Jo stands at the head like a battlefield general, spoon in one hand, dish towel in the other. Her gray hair’s coiled in a tidy bun that somehow enhances her hawklike stare .
“’Bout time, you two,” she scolds lightly, then wags her finger at the rest of the clan. “Sit your scrawny butts down. We’ll say grace before this gravy turns into concrete.”
Cole and Jace shuffle to their chairs, and Rhett stands off to the side, arms crossed like a defiant teen. He’s been in a foul mood lately, and if I had to guess why, my money is on the latest town gossip—Noah Lane has been nominated for Best Female Country Star of the Year. I think he’s finally getting the picture: She’s never coming back to the small town she left behind or to the heart she shattered the day she walked away.
I toss my brother a weak smile. Sage and I settle on the opposite side of the table. The overhead light casts a golden glow, giving the old wood a warm sheen—this family dinner is the kind of normal we’ve gone too long without.
Grandma Jo rolls her eyes heavenward. “Lord, thank you for keepin’ these kids out of prison, for stopping the rain that was drownin’ our crops, and for remindin’ me to pull the biscuits out before they burned. Amen.”
“Amen,” we echo. I hide a grin. It’s classic Grandma Jo, short and to the point.
We load our plates, passing bowls of mashed potatoes, green beans slick with butter, and that roast beef that’s making my stomach rumble.
The conversation starts mild: Cole and Jace ribbing each other about which tractor is better. Grandma Jo griping about some ladies in her smut club. Meanwhile, Rhett’s quieter, swirling his fork in the gravy, tension in his jaw.
Halfway through dinner, Sage’s phone pings. She glances down, eyebrows flicking up, and I lean closer. “That better not be Kyle,” I murmur under my breath, flashing her the dimples she loves so much.
With a roll of her eyes, she shakes her head. Hesitating, she glances toward my brother. “No… it’s, um… It’s Noah.” Her voice dips, uncertain. Her gaze bounces between me and Rhett, who stiffens. “She wants me to come to LA next week.” She flashes her phone screen in my direction, showing off a photo of Noah’s manicured hand that houses a rock bigger and brighter than any star in the Idaho sky. Underneath are the words I’m getting married, and I need my bestie to help me plan my last night as a single woman.
“She wants you to help organize her bachelorette party?”
Cole and Jace pause mid-conversation, but it’s Rhett who reacts. His fork clatters against the plate, eyes narrowing. “She’s fuckin’ engaged?” he demands, voice rough.
Sage shrugs, guilt in her eyes. “She just told me. We haven’t had much contact the last few months that she’s been on tour.”
A hush falls over the table. Even Grandma Jo lowers her utensils, eyebrows lifted in mild surprise. Rhett pushes his plate an inch away, like he’s lost his appetite. He scrapes his chair back abruptly, muttering, “She’s fuckin’ engaged,” under his breath like a mantra. He stands, swallowing hard. “I, uh… need some air.” He bolts from the room, leaving a tense silence in his wake.
I clear my throat, trying to ease the tension. This must be hard for him, especially considering when he asked her that same question, her answer had been a heart-shattering no. Clearly, that wound’s not scabbed over.
Grandma Jo abruptly bangs her hands on the table. “Time for dessert, folks. Cole, cut that apple pie, will ya? And I’ll say one more quick prayer to keep us from killin’ each other over the last slice.” She shuts her eyes again, speaking in a mutter, “Lord, bless this pie, and keep Rhett from bustin’ a vein over some girl who was born to chase the wind. Amen.”
A while later, Sage nudges me, voice hushed so only I catch it. “If I do go… maybe you’d come too?” There’s a flicker of hope in her eyes. “Figure we could visit some tourist traps.”
I flash her a crooked grin. “Sure.” My mind stirs with twisted humor. Maybe while I’m there I can pass out Toby’s credit cards to the homeless. A silent laugh rattles my chest at the thought of a dead man footing random bills in LA. Fitting payback from beyond the grave .
Sage leans closer to me, voice a soft murmur. “Thank you,” she says. “For saving me. For… everything.”
I squeeze her knee under the table, letting a gentle smile slip. “Always,” I whisper back.
She rests her head on my shoulder briefly, and I let my eyes close a second, inhaling the sweet blend of her shampoo and the apple pie in the air. This is what we fought for—love, however messy and weird, and sharing a meal without the specter of suspicion looming overhead.
When I open my eyes, Grandma Jo is staring at me with that knowing glint, like she’s reading my mind. She winks, then nudges Cole to hurry up with the pie. I grin back.
For the first time in too long, I feel calm. Like we’ve earned this quiet night, a chance to breathe, to laugh at silly banter, to think about tomorrow without dreading a knock from law enforcement.
We dig into dessert, the conversation weaving around ranch chores, small jokes, and the faint hum of hope for the future. Outside, dusk settles into full dark, but for once, I’m not scanning every shadow for trouble. Because inside these walls, with these people, it feels like maybe we’ve outrun the worst of it. And if the worst tries to catch us again, well… I tighten my grip on Sage’s hand, letting a low chuckle escape my lips.
Let it come. I’m ready. We all are.
The End …