Epilogue
TWENTY YEARS LATER
“Hey, how long has this ‘check oil’ light been on?” I asked my wife as soon as I got home. I’d borrowed her truck to pick up feed for the chickens since mine was full of wood for the new coop I was building. I always checked her oil, so it couldn’t be low unless there was a leak.
And of course Ava hadn’t mentioned it. No doubt she’d been too busy with recital prep and wrangling four kids with four different schedules and making sure nobody forgot their homework, hockey equipment, or dance shoes.
“Uh, a few days, I think. Not that long,” she called from the kitchen.
Hmm, I’d definitely need to have them check for a leak. I checked her oil only two weeks ago and it was full.
“I’ll call and schedule an appointment to have it checked,” I said as I entered the kitchen and found her wearing a blue sundress, which was unusual these days since she’d been favoring jeans and T-shirts. But I sure as shit wasn’t going to complain.
She smiled up at me before giving me a kiss. “Thank you for always taking care of me.”
That was the deal, and one I hadn’t backed out of for even a moment.
I checked my watch. We had thirty minutes until the kids got home from school. Thirty minutes of quiet in a house that rarely knew the meaning of the word. And she looked too fucking good to not take advantage of every second.
“Come with me, wife.”
Her eyes sparked with mischief. “And where are we going, husband?”
Twenty years, and she still made my heart stutter when she smiled at me like that.
“I have something to show you.”
She let out a laugh that was like wind chimes tinkling in the air. “Oh, I’m sure you do.”
I grabbed her hand and pulled her out the back door of the farmhouse she’d grown up in and toward our barn.
It was the same barn where I’d shown up in a snowstorm two decades ago with a crumpled list and a desperate prayer that she’d forgive me, although we’d remodeled it over the years so that it would last another fifty or more.
Her parents had signed the whole property over to us when they’d decided to downsize, unable to keep up with the acreage anymore.
We’d renovated the kitchen and added a master suite on the first floor and turned the old barn into a proper stable for the horses our daughters had insisted they needed.
The property was chaos most days—four kids, two dogs, a dozen chickens, and a rotating cast of friends and teammates who seemed to treat our house like a second home.
I loved every second of it.
Ava had taken over the local dance studio after college instead of going into marketing, but she’d used her degree to boost business, and I’d made sure to get her AC fixed so she wasn’t melting in the summers.
Twenty years we’d been together now. There’d been countless sleepless nights and soccer games and dance recitals and hockey tournaments. Arguments about money and parenting and who forgot to defrost the meat for dinner. It was real life, in all its messy, mundane glory.
And not once—not for a single second—had I ever been tempted to be anywhere else.
My father had been wrong about me. He’d been so wrong about what love could be when two people chose each other, every day, even when it was hard. Especially when it was hard.
I’d expected the wanting to fade. That’s what everyone said about marriage, right?
The passion dims, the spark dies, you become roommates who occasionally remember they used to have sex.
I’d braced for it, honestly. Waited for the morning I’d wake up and feel restless, feel trapped, or feel that genetic curse my father had promised was my birthright.
It never came.
Instead, I woke up every morning next to the same woman and somehow wanted her more than the day before.
Her laugh still made my chest tight. Her smile made me feel like the luckiest bastard alive.
And when she looked at me—even if she was rolling her eyes at me for doing something ridiculous— I still felt like that nervous kid who couldn’t believe she’d chosen him.
“The kids will be home soon,” Ava said, her voice dropping.
“Then I guess we should hurry.”
“Would it make you walk faster if you knew I wasn’t wearing underwear?”
I stopped mid-stride, and swept her up into my arms before running the short distance remaining to the barn.
She was laughing even as she tried to speak. “Liam! Put me down.”
“No can do, Mrs. Farrell. What if the wind blows your dress up? Better to get you into the barn before someone sees what belongs to me.”
The barn had been renovated with new doors, floors, and proper heating for the horses.
But every time I walked through those doors, I remembered.
Snow in my hair. A crumpled list in my shaking hands.
And Ava standing in the cold, looking at me like I’d destroyed her world and she wasn’t sure if she should let me try to rebuild it.
But we’d rebuilt it together. Better than it was before.
The horses huffed as we slipped inside, but they were used to us by now. I pulled Ava past the stalls to the empty one at the end—the one we’d never gotten around to filling, and that had become something of a private retreat when we needed a moment away from the chaos of the house.
The second we were out of sight, I had her pressed against the wall.
“Liam—”
I kissed her hard. Deep. The kind of kiss that said I know we only have thirty minutes but I’m going to make every single one of them count.
She kissed me back just as fiercely, her hands fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer. I grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head, holding her there while I pulled back just enough to look at her.
God, she was beautiful.
Forty-one years old, a mother of four amazing kids, and she still made my blood run hot just by existing.
There were laugh lines around her eyes now, and silver had started to thread through the golden brown of her hair.
But her eyes were the same—filled with sharp intelligence, stubborn fire, and love so deep it felt like breathing every time she looked at me.
“I love you,” I said. “You know that, right?”
“You’ve mentioned it once or twice.” But her voice was breathless, her pupils dilating as I pressed my hips against hers.
“Just making sure. Never want you to forget.”
I kissed down her neck, nipping at the spot below her ear that always made her shiver even after all these years. She arched into me, and I released her wrists so I could slide my hands down her sides, gathering the fabric of that blue sundress in my fists.
“You wore this on purpose,” I murmured against her skin. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I pulled the dress up, my fingers finding bare skin underneath. She hadn’t been fucking with me; she really wasn’t wearing underwear.
“Ava.” Her name came out rough. “Fucking hell, woman. You always know how to get me hard.”
“That was the plan.” She was already working at my belt, her fingers quick and sure. “We only have twenty-five minutes now. Stop talking.”
I didn’t need to be told twice.
I grabbed her thigh and lifted, wrapping her leg around my hip as she shoved my jeans down just enough. Then I was pressing into her wet heat, relishing in how perfect we fit together.
“Fuck,” she breathed. “Liam—”
I set a pace that was fast and urgent, nothing like the slow, savoring sex we’d had last weekend when the kids were at sleepovers. This was different. This was a stolen moment and the particular thrill of being parents who’d learned to take whatever time they could get.
But even rushed, even frantic, I couldn’t stop looking at her.
I watched her face as I moved inside her—the flush spreading across her cheeks, the way her lips parted on each thrust, the moment her eyes went glassy and unfocused as the pleasure built. I watched her the way I’d always watched her, memorizing every detail like it might be the last time.
She held my gaze, letting me see everything—the love, the trust, and the need that matched my own. There were no walls between us and no secrets. We were two people who’d chosen each other a thousand times and would keep choosing each other for a thousand more.
“I’m close,” she gasped. “Li—”
I shifted my angle, hitting that spot I’d memorized decades ago, and felt her clench around me. Her orgasm hit fast and hard, her whole body trembling as she cried out against my shoulder. I followed seconds later, burying myself deep, her name on my lips like a prayer.
We stayed like that for a minute, breathing hard, foreheads pressed together. The horses shuffled in their stalls. Somewhere in the distance, I heard a car door slam—one of the kids, home early.
“That was fifteen minutes,” Ava said, her voice shaky with laughter. “We’re getting efficient.”
“Practice makes perfect.” I pressed a kiss to her lips, soft and sweet. “You good?”
“Better than good.” She smoothed her dress back down while I fixed my jeans. “Although we should probably compose ourselves before Lily comes looking for us.”
“She’s sixteen. I think she can figure out why her parents disappeared into the barn.”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.” But she was smiling, that satisfied, glowing smile that made me feel like a goddamn king.
We walked back to the house hand in hand, arriving just in time to see our youngest, Holden, barreling across the yard toward us.
At eight years old, he was filled with energy.
He had my chaos and a smile that was all Ava.
It was amazing to see how our different characteristics developed in each of our children.
They were all different with their own gifts, but every time I looked at them, I saw the love that Ava had shown me.
She was the reason our family existed, and there would never come a time I wasn’t grateful for her.
“Dad! Mom! Coach said I might get to start at the game on Saturday!”
I scooped him up, ignoring his protests that he was too old to be carried. “That’s awesome, buddy. We’ll be there.”
“Both of you?”
“Both of us.” Ava ruffled his hair. “We never miss a game.”
When we went into the house, Lily already had her headphones in, while Scott was working on homework, and Mae was heading toward the backyard with her soccer ball. This was our life. Our little chaotic family. The family I’d been so terrified I’d never be able to build.
Dinner that night was the usual madness.
Everyone fighting over their favorite sides and then shifting from eating to homework, discussing sports schedule conflicts, and an argument about whose turn it was to feed the chickens.
Ava and I moved through it like we’d done a million times before, as a team so in sync we barely needed words to communicate.
Later, after the kids were in bed and the house was finally quiet, we sat on the back porch watching the stars. Ava leaned against my shoulder, her hand in mine, the same way she’d done practically every night since we moved here.
I’d found heaven with Ava Farrell—a heaven built on hazelnut coffee and oil changes and Thursday night reality TV.
A heaven that included four kids who drove me crazy and made me prouder than I’d ever imagined possible.
A heaven in a farmhouse in Meadowbrook, Montana, with the woman who’d taken a chance on a broken boy and helped him become a man worth loving.
Twenty years, and I was still the luckiest man alive.
I pulled Ava closer, breathing in her vanilla-cinnamon scent, and watched the stars overhead.
It turned out Farrell men could be built for staying after all.
Thank you for reading Campus Secret!