Epilogue 1-Esme
After Vegas, we headed home.
Not just to Jersey.
Not just to the ranch.
But to our home.
To the house Benji built—for me, for us—long before either of us had the courage to admit we were never really over. Never really done.
Deep down, buried under all that hurt and pride and misunderstanding, he’d still believed in us.
And somehow?
So had I.
Life’s been incredible since then.
Not perfect—because what life ever is?—but real.
Solid.
Ours.
We have friends.
Like Aella Ramirez and all her cousins—they came to the ranch for a visit with their larger than life husbands and a whole gaggle of kids who wanted to see real live bulls.
And it was awesome.
We have a new found family, too.
Angie. Diego. Alex. Bit. Sawyer. Micah.
No more stalkers.
No more ghosts clawing their way back from the dead.
No more lies twisting everything into something ugly.
And the jealousy?
Gone.
Because we talk now.
We fight when we need to.
We make up better.
And we love harder than I ever thought possible.
Every day feels like something new.
Something better.
Something worth holding onto.
Something worth fighting for.
And God… do we fight for it.
Our love?
It’s not fragile.
It’s not delicate.
It’s strong.
Built from fire and mistakes and second chances.
And every day?
It just keeps getting better.
“Oh my God!”
Bit’s voice yanks me out of my thoughts as she slides back into the high-top booth across from me, nearly spilling the two tall glasses she’s carrying.
“Careful!” I laugh, reaching out instinctively as she sets them down.
She grins, practically vibrating with excitement as she pushes one toward me.
Two crisp, golden-green apple ciders, condensation beading down the glass.
Perfect.
“I am so thrilled you’re gonna feature my shop on your vlog!” she squeals. “Like—WOO HOO!! This is huge!”
I can’t help but smile.
“I told you—it’s amazing,” I say, taking a sip. “People are going to eat it up. The repurposed fabrics, the handmade stuff—it’s exactly the kind of thing my audience loves.”
“And me,” she adds, wiggling her brows.
“And you,” I agree, laughing. “You’re the real draw.”
“You ladies celebrating over here?”
I glance up to see the bartender approaching, setting down a platter that smells so good my stomach immediately growls.
Mango habanero wings.
Crispy.
Sticky.
Perfect.
I grin at her because I am always down to make a new friend.
“We sure are. Hi, I’m Esme—this is Bit.”
“Nice to meet you,” she says easily. “I’m Sloane. This place is mine. Well, mine and my brother’s.”
She jerks her chin toward the bar.
I follow her gaze.
And wow.
Big.
Broad.
Gruff-looking guy with streaks of gray at his temples and the kind of presence that says don’t mess with me.
Total opposite of Sloane, who’s all warmth and easy smiles.
“Nice setup,” I tell her honestly. “It’s gorgeous in here.”
“Thanks,” she says, clearly proud.
“Sit with us for a minute,” I offer. “We’re celebrating—and brainstorming apparently.”
Sloane glances back at the bar, then shrugs. “Why not?”
She pulls up a stool just as Bit leans forward, already mid-idea.
“You know,” Bit says, pointing a wing at me, “now that you’re branching off from the van life angle a little, you should totally start highlighting women-owned businesses around here.”
I pause.
Because… that’s actually a really good idea.
“I mean it!” she presses. “Like—local shops, small businesses, people building something from scratch. It fits your whole vibe.”
I think about the fabrics she’d shown me.
The way she lights up talking about her work.
The pride.
The heart behind it.
And yeah…
I can see it.
“I like that,” I admit, nodding slowly. “I really like that.”
“You’d get so much engagement,” Sloane adds. “People love that kind of stuff.”
“And it gives me an excuse to eat my way through Jersey,” I say, eyeing the wings.
Bit snorts.
“As if you needed an excuse.”
I gasp, pretending like I’m actually insulted.
Then, we laugh some more.
Talk.
Throw ideas around.
And for a while, it’s just easy.
Just fun.
Just normal.
The kind of normal I never thought I’d get back.
Three wings in—okay, maybe four—I feel it.
That shift.
That awareness.
Like my body knows before my brain catches up.
I don’t even have to look.
I know he’s here.
My whole body lights up.
Warms.
Settles.
Like something inside me just clicked into place.
My husband.
My love.
Benji.
I glance up—and there he is, walking in with Sawyer and Micah, boots heavy against the floor, shoulders broad, presence impossible to ignore.
He scans the room automatically.
Always does.
Always looking.
Always aware.
And then his eyes find me.
And everything else fades.
Just like it always does.
That look?
That look still hits me like a punch to the chest.
Possessive.
Certain.
Soft in a way only I get to see.
Mine.
I smile.
Slow.
Full.
Happy in a way that feels deep down in my bones.
He makes his way over, the guys peeling off toward the bar as he comes straight to me like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his hand settling at the back of my neck, fingers brushing my skin in that way that still makes my heart race.
“Hey yourself,” I reply, tilting my face up to his.
He leans down.
Presses a kiss to my lips.
Not rushed.
Not frantic.
Just… there.
Steady.
Certain.
Home.
“You behave while I was gone?” he asks, one brow lifting slightly.
I grin. “Always.”
Bit snorts into her drink.
“Liar,” she mutters.
Benji’s lips twitch.
“I’ll get the truth outta you later,” he says under his breath, just for me.
Heat curls low in my stomach.
Yeah.
Life is definitely good.
I lean into him, resting my head briefly against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
Strong.
Solid.
Mine.
And for the first time in a long time—
I don’t wonder how it’s all going to fall apart.
I don’t brace for the next disaster.
I don’t question if I’m allowed to be this happy.
Because I am.
We built this.
We fought for this.
We earned this.
And whatever comes next?
We’ll face it together.
Just like we should have all along.