Epilogue
. . .
Violet
Two Years Later
The air smells like cedar and the promise of spring.
It’s a little early for green, but the world is finally waking up again. I’m standing just beyond the back porch, boots planted in the damp grass, hand resting on the small curve of my stomach.
Bramble barks somewhere off to the left, chasing Echo.
This is the life we built.
One fence, one kiss, one truth-telling, heart-healing moment at a time.
Rowan joins me, arms sliding around my waist from behind. He presses a kiss to the side of my neck, right beneath my ear. He says it’s his favorite spot because it always makes me shiver, no matter how warm it is.
“You good?” he murmurs.
“Mmhmm.” I lean back into him, letting the weight of his body remind me that this isn’t a dream.
“Do you ever think about us back then?” I ask, looking up at him.
“All the time.”
“I mean, really think about it? How young we were. How…big everything felt.”
He nods. “Still does.”
He’s right. Love still feels impossibly vast. But it also feels just like this—quiet mornings, dogs in the yard, kisses that taste like cinnamon. Rowan’s love is like roots stretching deep into the earth.
I glance down at where our hands rest together, fingers laced across the soft swell of my stomach.
It’s a girl.
I can still see Rowan’s face when the doctor told us. The way his eyes glistened like he was trying not to cry but couldn’t stop himself.
“She’s perfect,” he whispered as he watched the live sonogram. “And she’s ours. All ours.”
“You think we’re ready for this?” I ask.
Rowan doesn’t even hesitate. “With you? I’m ready for anything.”
I close my eyes, and for a moment, I see the shy high school girl who never said what she wanted and the boy who ran because he thought he had to. I want to reach back in time and tell them to hold on. That the timing might be terrible, and the hurt will come, but so will healing. So will joy.
Because if you’re lucky, love is one person. One person who breaks your heart and then learns how to hold it right. One person who leaves and comes back, not because they had to, but because they chose to. One person who grows with you, not beside you, not around you, but with you.
Love is a thousand little choices, and some people, no matter how far they drift, are always meant to find their way back home.