Epilogue
Nora
three weeks later
The mountain looks different after a storm.
Softer somehow.
Less dangerous.
Which is ridiculous considering Devil’s Peak has almost killed me multiple times in the last three weeks.
But this morning the snow sparkles beneath the sunlight instead of threatening to bury the world alive, and smoke curls lazily from cabin chimneys while town trucks crawl slowly down Main Street pushing slush aside.
The air smells like pine and woodsmoke and melting ice, and for the first time since I got here, I’m not waiting for something terrible to happen.
Mostly because the terrible thing already did.
And Rhett ended it.
I tighten my fingers around the coffee cup in my hands and stare out the kitchen window toward the tree line behind his cabin. Everything out there looks calm now. Quiet. Harmless.
It isn’t.
I know that better than anyone.
Archer texted this morning that Deputy Foster survived surgery and was already in police custody for corruption and stalking charges.
Apparently the FBI wants him too because his crimes crossed state lines.
Rhett barely reacted when he read the message last night.
Just tossed the phone onto the counter and pulled me into his lap like he needed the physical confirmation that I was still here.
Honestly?
I needed it too.
Footsteps sound behind me.
My body reacts before my brain does, heat curling low in my stomach the second Rhett steps into the kitchen wearing worn jeans and a gray thermal stretched across his chest.
His knuckles are still bruised.
Part of me still can’t stop thinking about the way he looked in the snow with blood on his hands and murder in his eyes because someone hurt me.
That should probably concern me more than it does.
“You’re staring,” he says.
I take a sip of coffee slowly. “You almost killed a man for me. I’m processing.”
His gaze drags over me where I’m standing in one of his flannels and nothing else underneath.
“You’re wearing my shirt.”
“That’s your takeaway?”
“It’s my favorite part.”
Heat climbs into my face instantly.
Annoying.
Rhett notices immediately. The man notices everything.
He crosses the kitchen slowly, one hand settling at my waist the second he reaches me, and just like that my pulse steadies completely.
It’s terrifying how quickly that’s become normal.
“How’s your shoulder?” he asks quietly.
“Bruised.”
“You need ice.”
“I need coffee.”
“You need both.”
“Bossy.”
“Always.”
That shuts me up for a second.
His hand tightens slightly against my hip while silence stretches between us, softer now than it used to be. Easier. The storm burned something down between us along with everything we were still pretending.
Now there’s just this.
Us.
And somehow that’s scarier.
I set my coffee down carefully. “Rhett.”
His eyes narrow slightly like he already knows he’s not going to like whatever comes next.
“I should probably leave soon.”
The change in him is immediate.
Subtle if you don’t know him.
I do now.
His body stills completely.
“What?”
I force myself to keep talking anyway because if I hesitate, I won’t say any of this at all.
“What happened between us…” I exhale slowly. “It was intense. And the storm and the stalking and almost dying probably didn’t exactly help with perspective.”
His expression hardens slightly.
“Nora.”
“I’m serious.” I push forward before he can interrupt me. “People bond during traumatic situations all the time. Fear does weird things to your brain. Adrenaline. Proximity. Survival instincts.” I gesture vaguely between us. “This could just be obsession born from danger.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Rhett stares at me long enough that my stomach twists.
Then he reaches over, takes my coffee from my hand, and sets it aside before backing me slowly against the counter.
My pulse jumps instantly.
“You done?” he asks.
“Probably not.”
“Too bad.”
I glare up at him. “See? This is exactly what I mean. You just bulldoze over everything.”
“No,” he says quietly. “I bulldoze over stupid things.”
“That’s insulting.”
“It’s accurate.”
I try to push at his chest. He catches both my wrists easily and pins them lightly against the counter beside my hips.
Not rough.
Certain.
The heat in his eyes turns my thoughts unreliable immediately.
“I’m trying to have a rational conversation,” I mutter.
“You’re trying to run again.”
That lands harder than I want it to.
“I’m not running.”
“You’re standing in my kitchen explaining why wanting me isn’t real because you’re scared it is.”
My breath catches.
God, I hate when he does that.
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s true.”
His grip loosens slightly but he doesn’t let me go completely, his thumbs brushing the inside of my wrists while he watches me too closely.
“You wanna know the problem with you, city girl?”
“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”
“You think feelings only count if they happen slow enough.”
I blink at him.
“What?”
“You trust fear more than you trust peace.” His voice lowers. “You think because this hit hard, it can’t be real.”
I open my mouth.
Nothing comes out.
Because the worst part?
He’s right.
Rhett exhales quietly, his gaze dragging over my face slower now, softer than before.
“You became home before I realized I still needed one,” he says.
The words hit me so hard I physically stop breathing for a second.
No teasing.
No arrogance.
No possessive growling mountain man routine.
Just honesty.
Raw and steady and completely unguarded.
His eyes hold mine the entire time.
“I spent years up here alone because it was easier than needing people,” he continues quietly.
“Then you showed up in my town acting tough while somebody hunted you, and suddenly every instinct I had locked onto you so hard I couldn’t think straight anymore.
” His jaw tightens slightly. “I tried to keep it about protection. Didn’t work. ”
Emotion climbs thick into my throat instantly.
“Rhett…”
“You wanna call it obsession?” he asks. “Fine. I’m obsessed with you.
” One hand slides up my waist slowly. “I’m obsessed with whether you’ve eaten.
Whether you’re sleeping. Whether somebody looked at you too long in town.
” His mouth curves slightly. “I’m obsessed with the way you argue when you’re scared and the way you steal my shirts and the way you reach for me in your sleep. ”
Heat and tears hit me at the same time.
Completely unfair combination.
“You’re making this very difficult.”
“Good.”
I laugh despite myself, and the sound seems to affect him more than it should because his entire expression shifts.
Warms.
God.
That look alone could ruin me permanently.
“You don’t miss Seattle,” he says quietly.
“I know.”
“You don’t wanna leave.”
I swallow hard. “No.”
His thumb brushes my jaw gently this time. “Then stay.”
Just like that.
Simple.
Certain.
Stay.
I stare up at him while my chest pulls painfully tight because for the first time in my life, leaving feels worse than staying.
And that realization changes everything.
Rhett studies my face for another long second before adding, quieter now, “Marry me.”
I blink.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“That’s not a casual thing to just slip into conversation.”
“I’m not casual about you.”
My heart stumbles so hard it actually hurts.
“You’re serious.”
“Very.”
I stare at him. “Rhett, we’ve known each other like three weeks.”
“Longest three weeks of my life.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
His mouth twitches slightly. “You love me anyway.”
I should argue.
Instead, I whisper, “Probably.”
“Definitely.”
I laugh again, shaking my head while tears threaten properly now.
“You’re insane.”
“Yeah.”
“And bossy.”
“Yeah.”
“And weirdly intense.”
“Definitely.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re not selling this.”
“You already decided.”
There it is again.
That confidence.
That certainty.
The thing that should drive me insane but somehow makes me feel safer than anything else ever has.
I look around the cabin slowly. The fire crackling in the stone fireplace. My boots beside his near the door. My camera sitting on his kitchen table next to his coffee mug like it belongs there.
Like I belong here.
Then I look back at him.
At this rough, terrifying mountain man who fought through a blizzard barehanded to get me back.
And suddenly the answer feels obvious.
I slide my arms around his neck slowly. “Okay.”
His entire body stills.
“Okay?” he repeats carefully.
“Yeah.” I smile despite myself. “I’ll marry you, mountain man.”
The look that crosses his face nearly destroys me.
Not cocky.
Not smug.
Just wrecked.
Completely.
Then he kisses me hard enough to steal the rest of my oxygen.
By the time we make it into town two days later, the entire mountain somehow already knows.
Margie screams loud enough to startle half the diner when Rhett walks in with his hand possessively locked around my waist.
“I KNEW IT!” she yells from behind the counter.
Every head in the café turns instantly.
I groan into my coffee. “I hate this town.”
“You love this town,” Rhett says.
“I tolerate this town.”
“Sweetheart, you’re marrying the town cryptid. You live here now.”
Archer nearly chokes laughing from a nearby booth while Liam shouts, “Bout damn time, Maddox,” and Jace starts demanding to know who’s taking bets on how fast Rhett gets me pregnant.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter.
Rhett looks completely unbothered.
Actually, he looks proud.
Which should embarrass me.
Instead, warmth spreads through my chest so hard it almost aches.
Margie appears beside our booth carrying pie I definitely didn’t order.
“We need colors,” she announces.
“For what?”
“The wedding.”
Rhett takes a bite of my pie like this conversation isn’t horrifying. “Dark green.”
I stare at him. “You cannot already be planning our wedding.”
“You said yes.”
“That was thirty-six hours ago.”
“You’re behind schedule, baby.”
I kick him under the table.
He catches my knee easily, his hand sliding higher along my thigh beneath the table while his mouth curves slightly.
Possessive.
Completely shameless about it.
And the worst part?
I love it.
Because somewhere between the storm and the mountain and the terrifying man who bid on me like he already knew I belonged with him, I stopped wanting the life I left behind.
I stopped running.
And the mountain ranger who won me at the auction to protect me ended up falling first, hardest, and permanently obsessed with the woman he was supposed to keep safe.