EPILOGUE #2
Jonathan made a sound in the back of his throat that he covered with a small cough. Bernie, to his credit, didn’t even bat an eye. His cheeks only reddened slightly as he munched on his tart.
For all her complaints, I’d seen Megan every couple weeks since I’d moved to Everwick.
She was in escrow for a vacation home with the best views of Vellamara Island, after all, and so we’d all spent ample time together when she journeyed from Willowmere.
She’d even helped me paint my dining room at the cottage, showing up in pristine denim overalls that I knew she usually wouldn’t be caught dead wearing, her hair tied up in a pastel bandana, bringing in supplies she’d bought to make the process easier—including my favorite lemon-ambrosia cupcakes from Pixie Crust, baked fresh that morning.
“Have you won the contest yet?” Megan asked me expectantly, her eyes sweeping the town square, until they landed on the entry table by the Acacia Whisperthorns.
“They’re about to start judging,” I told her.
“Stand back,” she announced before flouncing off. Over her shoulder, she called, “Desperate times call for charm and manipulation…besides, I’m starving.”
I shook my head at my best friend, her boldness knowing no bounds.
“Is she going to…?” Bernie started before trailing off, struck silent as he watched her stride up to Mr. Oatley, her fingers brushing over his judging ribbon as she introduced herself.
Mr. Oatley’s eyes went wide, but I watched Megan’s dazzling smile, well…
dazzle him. Her hands moved animatedly as the other judges gathered round, pulled in by her, like magnets.
That had always been Megan Bank’s superpower. Like moths to a flame, and she’d always burned the brightest.
I watched as Mr. Oatley pulled his own judging ribbon off and pinned it to Megan’s coat.
In less than a minute flat. And she clapped her hands, delighted, guiding them all over to the entry table as she inspected all the baked goods lining it, inspecting each like she was inspecting a car to purchase.
Someone even scrambled to procure a notebook for her when she asked.
Jonathan laughed softly and murmured, “You gotta hand it to her. She’s tenacious.”
The most tenacious person you’ll ever meet, I thought, curling my hand into Jonathan’s.
“I need to hear this,” Bernie said, heading toward the table where Megan was holding her court.
Then it was just me and Jonathan. I turned into his side, wrapping my other arm across his middle. When a breeze blew through the square, I pressed closer.
“Cold?” he asked, his warm palm sliding down my back. His body was like a furnace, running hot.
I smiled. “Never with you.”
And I watched Everwick-by-the-Sea, standing among the Moonshade Berry Festival.
I watched neighbors and locals socialize, watched newcomers and tourists browse the vendor stalls of shops that had been in business even when I’d been a kid.
From the town square, I could hear the distant crash of waves and the crowing of gulls and smell the refreshing brininess tinting the air.
This place was both old and new to me. A home full of cherished memories—even the sad ones—but a town that was full of potential, where I hoped to build my future with the man at my side.
Just like Juniper Woods with Jonathan, Everwick had called me home.
And I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
I was huffing and puffing. Jonathan was smirking back at me, his sweat-less brow and sturdy legs making a mockery of me.
“Stop”—gasp—“laughing” —gasp—“at me,” I choked out. I stopped on the stairs, placing my hands on my hips as I dragged in breath.
“I would never laugh at you, my love,” Jonathan said, his expression serious, even though his blue eyes were glittering with amusement. “Or your weak human lungs.”
I tried to swat his arm, but he dodged with ease. I scrunched my expression and mock-glared while I finally caught my breath, inhaling deep as I tilted my face up toward the sky.
It was a beautiful night over Juniper Woods.
Completely clear with a crescent moon and glimmering stars.
I was bundled in a warm sweater that Jonathan had pulled over my head, one I’d be grateful for when I wasn’t climbing up dozens and dozens of stairs up a hillside, stairs that Jonathan had just finished installing a few weeks prior.
He slid behind me, his arms coming around me as I leaned back. I was certain he could feel the way my heart thundered against his forearm.
“You want me to carry you?” he murmured into my ear, his lips brushing the sensitive lobe. Maybe he thought I would be too proud to accept, but I wasn’t above letting him do all the work, especially after the long day at the festival.
I beamed sweetly. “Okay.”
Now he laughed. He shook his head, stepping in front of me and then crouching. “Hop on.”
Gladly, I thought, relieved. I jumped onto his back, and he hoisted me up with strength that still managed to surprise me, no matter the impressive physical feats that I’d witnessed as he’d rebuilt the Hollow these last few months.
I clasped my arms around his neck, letting them hang down his chest, and tightened my legs around his waist.
In his ear, I teased, “Much better.”
A gruff sound left his throat, and I pressed a kiss to his cheek as he began to stride up the remaining stairs.
Soon, however, as I enjoyed the coolness of the quiet night and listened to distant calls of owls and what I thought might be the whispering of the forest sprites, I saw that the stairs ended and there was a new path that led up toward Cryer’s Point.
“What? When did this happen?” I asked, confused.
The wild foliage and brush that had encroached on the path had been cleared away.
It was lined with gray stones and lit with solar lanterns that glowed a beautiful gold, just enough to illuminate the way but not enough to drown out the brightness of the starlight overhead.
“Here and there,” he replied. “I have a surprise for you.”
“Oh?” I murmured, excitement lighting in my belly.
The path was graded differently than it had been before, a switchback into the side of the hill that helped lessen the steepness of the incline.
Night-blooming flowers had been planted along the path, and though I didn’t see them, I smelled the sweet ripeness of moonshade berries growing near, carried on the cool breeze.
“I can’t believe you did this,” I murmured in awe. “How did you do all this?”
“Been working on it for months, slowly, whenever I had time,” he told me. “You and May convinced me to hire help for the cabins, so that helped free me up to do this.”
“It’s beautiful,” I said, kissing his cheek. “It looks amazing.”
But the real surprise came when we rounded the final turn onto the cliff of Cryer’s Point. I hadn’t been up here since…since the night Jonathan and I had had sex for the first time, after we’d gone searching for moonshade berries near the Circle of Thornblood.
Only it was transformed now, and I jumped off Jonathan’s back to inspect the new additions.
There was still a wild beauty to the scenic point, but I saw that Jonathan had built a fence around it for safety, on account that I’d nearly fallen when I’d been here the first time.
A new love-seat bench had been installed, the wood gleaming with an arched back.
But what made my throat tighten and tears prick into my eyes was a sign post overlooking the view of Everwick below and the Aurealian Sea beyond.
The sign read Starfall Ridge.
My name for Cryer’s Point.
I spun to regard Jonathan, a wide smile stretching over my face through my blurry eyes. “You did this?”
“It’s my gift to you,” he replied, approaching me. “Do you like it?”
“I love it,” I breathed, reaching up for the back of his neck to pull him down for a kiss. I teased my lips against his before it deepened, my fingers running through his hair. My eyes were still closed when I pulled back to say, “I love you. It’s perfect. Thank you.”
“Love you too, Red,” he murmured. Jonathan was smiling when I finally opened my eyes, and he took my hand, leading me over toward the sign.
I ran my fingers over the etched wood, the inner letters painted in silver emulating starlight.
He tugged me against him, wrapping me up in his arms as we took in the grandest view in all of Everwick. And no one even knew it was here.
Though when the Hollow reopened next week, they soon would. A part of me mourned the quiet. This untouched land. This special place where it was just me and Jonathan and May mostly.
But a larger part of me wanted to share the beauty I’d discovered here. This land had lay silent, dormant, for too long. It deserved the reverence of others.
“What are you thinking about?” came his quiet rumble against me.
“Next week,” I said.
His arms tightened slightly. “Nervous?”