Epilogue
JASPER
SIX MONTHS AFTER THE FIRE
The sun rises over the ocean, turning the water gold and orange. I’m sitting on the beach, feet buried in white sand, watching Mara wade into the shallows. She’s wearing one of my shirts, which is oversized on her, hitting her at mid-thigh, and nothing else.
She looks happy.
“Come on! The water’s perfect!” she calls to me.
I shake my head, signing, “Coffee first. Then swimming.”
She laughs and dives under a wave, disappearing for a moment before surfacing further out.
I sip my coffee and watch her. This has become our routine—morning beach walk, swimming, then breakfast on the patio while the island wakes up around us.
So different from the chaos we left behind.
My phone buzzes with a text from Valen.
Valen:
Weekly check-in. Call when you can.
Me:
This afternoon.
The updates come regularly. Valen, Milo, and Kade have been working steadily, gathering evidence, building their case.
Mara emerges from the water, dripping and grinning. She drops onto the sand beside me, close enough that water drips onto my leg.
“You’re getting me wet.”
She doesn’t freeze this time, doesn’t make a big deal of it. She’s learned that I speak when I want to speak. That it’s a choice, not a struggle.
“That’s kind of the point.” She grins, flicking more water at me deliberately.
I could sign a response, could stay in the comfortable silence I lived in for years. But Dr. Reeves—my therapist, the one who specializes in selective mutism and trauma responses—said that using my voice when I feel safe is part of moving forward.
Part of honoring what Evie would have wanted.
“The water’s cold. You’re trying to torture me.”
“I’m trying to get you to have fun, totally different.”
She leans against my shoulder, and I wrap an arm around her. We sit like that for a while—her dripping seawater, me drinking coffee, the sun warming both of us.
“You’re using your voice more.”
“Evie… She’d want me to live, to move forward, to use whatever tools I have—signing, speaking, both—to be present in my own life.
” I pause, then add, “She’d want me to be happy.
And I am, here, with you. With them.” I gesture toward the villa where Dredyn’s probably burning breakfast and Talon’s definitely still asleep.
“So, using your voice more… that’s part of being happy?”
“It’s part of closing the chapter on who I was and opening the one on who I’m becoming.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you, for never making me feel like I had to be different than I am.”
“You don’t have to thank me for basic decency.”
“Yes, I do, because it’s not basic. Dredyn learned sign language in three months. Talon already knew some. You learned it in weeks and never once asked me to ‘just speak’ because it was easier for you.”
“That would have been a dick move.”
“Yes, but people make dick moves all the time. You didn’t—none of you did.”
She kisses my shoulder. “Because we love you—all of you. Verbal, nonverbal, signing, speaking, all of it.”
“Valen wants me to call him later. I think they’re getting close to figuring out how to take out his father.”
“Should we do something? Help more?”
“Valen says no. Says we did our part, and that it’s their turn to finish it.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I want to, want to believe we can just stay here, be happy, let someone else carry the weight.” I look at her. “But I also know how this works, how people die when they underestimate the enemy.”
“Then we trust they won’t underestimate them.”
“And if they do?”
“Then we help, however we can. But Jasper, we can’t live in constant fear. Can’t spend every morning checking for bad news. We have to live—really live. That’s what we fought for.”
She’s right. She’s always right about this stuff.
I pull her closer, pressing my lips to her temple. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
We sit like that until the coffee goes cold and the sun climbs higher. Then we stand, brush off sand, and walk back toward the villa, hand in hand.
Inside, chaos reigns. Dredyn’s cursing at the stove where something is definitely burning and Talon’s laughing from the doorway. Ghost is on the counter, knocking over a coffee mug.
“A little help?” Dredyn calls out when he sees us.
“You’re on your own. I’m not touching that disaster,” Talon says, still laughing.
“Jasper?” Dredyn looks at me hopefully.
I could sign that he’s hopeless, could stay silent and just fix whatever he’s destroyed.
But instead, I speak. “Move. You’re banned from the stove until you take a cooking class.”
“That’s fair,” Dredyn admits, stepping aside.
I take over breakfast duty while Mara rescues the coffee mug from Ghost, Talon sets the table, and Dredyn sulks about his cooking skills.
“Jasper?” Mara’s voice. “The eggs are burning.”
“Shit.” I flip them quickly, saving them from Dredyn’s fate.
Talon’s still laughing. “You lasted thirty seconds before creating a disaster. New record.”
“Shut up and eat your breakfast.”
And when they all laugh, I laugh too.
Out loud.
Because I can.
Because I choose to.
Because this is what moving forward sounds like.
Talon
Ten months after the fire
“I’m just saying,” Mara’s arguing, gesturing with her wine glass, “pineapple on pizza is objectively correct and you’re all wrong.”
“It’s fruit. On pizza. That’s a crime,” Dredyn counters.
“Tomatoes are fruit.”
“That’s different—”
“How is it different?”
Jasper sighs from his chair. “This argument is pointless. Everyone knows the best pizza is plain cheese.”
“That’s the most boring take possible. You’re like a five-year-old.”
He flips me off and I grin.
“Okay, new topic,” Mara announces, “because clearly we’re at an impasse on the pizza issue.”
“There is no impasse. You’re just wrong,” Dredyn says.
She ignores him. “I have a question, but it might be weird.”
“All your questions are weird,” I point out. “That’s part of your charm.”
“Fair. Okay, so… Have you three ever thought about… you know. Exploring. With each other.”
Silence.
“Exploring,” Dredyn repeats slowly. “You mean—”
“Sexually. Romantically. Whatever… I mean, you share me. You’re all comfortable with that dynamic, and you clearly love each other. So I just wondered if you’d ever… considered it?”
Jasper’s staring at his drink like it holds the answers to the universe, Dredyn looks like he’s trying to solve a complex math problem, and I’m—
Actually, I’m not surprised by the question. I’ve thought about it before, wondered if we’re weird for not being interested in each other that way.
“That’s … an interesting question.”
“We don’t have to talk about it—” Mara starts.
“No, it’s fair. You should be able to ask.” I set down my beer, trying to organize my thoughts. “Short answer? No. We haven’t explored, and we’re not going to.”
“Oh.” She sounds almost disappointed. “Okay.”
“But not because it’s wrong or anything. Just because…” I look at Dredyn and Jasper. “Help me out here.”
Dredyn clears his throat. “I’m straight. Like, aggressively straight. No offense to anyone who isn’t, but I am extremely not interested in men. At all. Ever.”
“Same. Mara is literally the only person in this universe I want to fuck. Gender aside, you two are like my brothers. It would be weird,” Jasper says.
“Exactly, we’re brothers. Not by blood, but in every way that matters. And you don’t… you don’t do that with brothers,” I say.
“But you share me,” Mara points out. “Isn’t that also… complicated?”
“Different kind of complicated,” Dredyn says. “Sharing you isn’t about us being together, it’s about us all being with you. Separately but connected.”
“Like—” I search for the right metaphor. “Like we’re all spokes on a wheel. You’re the center. We’re connected through you, but we’re not connected to each other in that way.”
“We’re a unit, a family, but the romantic and sexual component only runs between each of us and Mara. Not between us.”
“So you’ve thought about it,” Mara says.
“Of course we’ve thought about it. We’re three guys in an unconventional relationship. It would be weirder if we hadn’t considered all the angles,” I say.
Dredyn leans forward. “Look, I love these assholes. Genuinely. I’d die for them, I’d kill for them—I have killed for them—but I don’t want to kiss them, don’t want to sleep with them. The thought doesn’t even register as a possibility in my brain.”
“It’s not about being straight or gay or bi or whatever. It’s about what works for us. What feels right. And this”—I gesture to the four of us—“this feels right. Adding a sexual component between us would just … complicate something that doesn’t need complicating.”
“So you’re all comfortable with the dynamic as it is? No one feels left out or weird about it?”
“Are you kidding? This setup is perfect. We all get time with you. We all get privacy. We all get to maintain our own identities while also being part of something bigger.”
“Plus, someone has to be in the kitchen making dinner while the other two are … occupied. Division of labor,” Dredyn adds.
“That happened once—”
“Three times.” Dredyn corrects.
“Okay, three times. But my point stands.”
Mara’s laughing now. “So, just to be absolutely clear, you three have zero interest in each other sexually or romantically?”
“Zero,” Dredyn confirms.
“Negative interest,” I add.
“You’re not keeping us from anything, you’re giving us everything. This life, this freedom, this… this whole weird perfect thing we have going. That’s enough—more than enough,” Jasper says.
“Besides,” Dredyn says, “I’ve seen Talon naked. It’s not enticing.”
“Excuse me—”
“And Jasper’s too quiet. Would be weird.”
Jasper flips him off again.
“See? We’re good as we are. Three brothers who happen to share a girlfriend. Well…” I look at Mara. “Are you our girlfriend? Or is there a better term for this?”
“Partner?” she suggests.
“Partner,” Dredyn tests. “Yeah. That works.”
“Three brothers who share a partner. Who love each other platonically and love you … not platonically.”
“Very not platonically,” Dredyn adds with a grin.
“So, just to be absolutely crystal clear… I’m the only one getting railed by all three of you? That’s the arrangement?”
“That’s the arrangement, Princess,” I confirm.
“Good. Just wanted to make sure I understood the dynamic.”
We fall back into comfortable silence. Ghost returns from his hunt, unsuccessful, and jumps into Jasper’s lap, the ocean continues its rhythm, and the stars shine overhead.
“For the record,” Dredyn says after a moment, “if I were interested in men, it wouldn’t be you two losers.”
“Who would it be?” I ask, genuinely curious now.
“I don’t know. Someone impressive. Accomplished. Maybe … Chris Hemsworth?”
“That’s everyone’s answer. You’re so predictable,” Mara says.
“He’s Thor! I’m not apologizing for having taste.”
“If I had to pick a man, it would be Ryan Reynolds. He’s funny,” Jasper says.
“I’d go with—actually, no, I’m not playing this game. We’ve established I’m not interested. I’m not picking a hypothetical man.”
“Coward,” Mara teases.
“Comfortable in my sexuality and not needing to prove anything,” I correct.
She laughs. “Fair enough.”
Three men who love each other like brothers.
One woman who loves all three of us.
A dynamic that works because we decided it works. Because we’re honest about what we want and what we don’t.
And if that’s unconventional—if it doesn’t fit into a neat category or match other people’s expectations—well …
That’s their problem, not ours.
Mara stands up and stretches. “All right, I’m going to bed. Anyone joining me?”
“I’ll be there in ten. Want to finish my drink,” Dredyn says.
“I’ve got some emails to check,” I say.
“Reading. Give me thirty.”
“So I’m going to bed, alone, while you three finish your various tasks?
” She tilts her head, a slow smile spreading across her face.
“Guess I’ll just have to entertain myself then.
Been a while since I had some quality alone time.
Might take a long, hot shower. Maybe dig through that drawer Dredyn thinks I don’t know about… ”
Our heads snap up in unison.
Dredyn’s drink hits the table.
My emails are suddenly very unimportant.
Jasper’s book closes with an audible thump.
“On second thought,” Dredyn says, already standing.
“Emails can wait,” I add, pushing back from my chair.
Jasper’s already moving toward the house, signing something that’s probably crude but definitely enthusiastic.
Mara’s laugh echoes across the beach as all three of us converge on her. She backs up toward the door, eyes dancing with mischief.
“That’s what I thought,” she says, grinning.
“You’re evil,” Dredyn accuses, but he’s smiling.
“You love it.”
“Yeah, we do.”