Epilogue - Eli
Three years later
The axe comes down clean, splitting the log in two with a satisfying crack. I toss the pieces onto the pile and grab another, settling it on the chopping block.
It's late afternoon, the sun filtering through the trees in that golden way it does this time of year. The air smells like pine and earth and the first hints of autumn. Ridge is somewhere in the woods, probably chasing squirrels he'll never catch.
I've been out here for a couple hours now, working through the pile of logs that needs to be split before winter. It's meditative, this work. Always has been. The rhythm, the exhaustion, the simple goal of turning whole logs into firewood.
But these days, it's not about exhausting myself until I can't think anymore. It's just work. The kind that needs doing. The kind that lets my mind wander without getting lost in the dark places it used to go.
Mostly, I think about what's waiting for me inside.
I split another log, then another, until my shoulders start to burn and sweat is dripping down my back despite the cool air. That's enough for today. I can finish the rest tomorrow.
I stack the axe in the shed, wipe my hands on my jeans, and head toward the cabin.
Our cabin.
It still hits me sometimes, that shift from "my" to "our." The way this place isn't just mine anymore. The way it's better for it.
I can hear singing before I even open the door.
Jade's voice, soft and slightly off-key, carrying through the walls:
*"Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are..."*
I open the door as quietly as I can and stop in the doorway.
She's in the rocking chair by the fireplace, the one we bought two years ago when we found out she was pregnant. Our daughter is cradled in her arms, tiny fist curled against Jade's chest, eyes fighting to stay open.
Emmeline. Emmy for short. Seven months old and already the center of my entire world.
Jade hasn't noticed me yet. She's too focused on Emmy, rocking slowly, singing that same song she's sung every night since our daughter was born:
*"Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky..."*
Emmy's eyes are drooping now, her little body relaxing completely in her mother's arms. She's wearing the blue onesie with bears on it, the one Jade bought the day we found out we were having a girl.
God, they're beautiful. Both of them. The most beautiful women in the world, right here in my living room. I still don't know what I did to deserve this. This life. This family. These moments of peace that I never thought I'd have.
Three years ago, I was alone. Convinced that's how it had to be. Convinced that isolation was the only way to keep from hurting people.
And then Jade showed up with her terrible lasagna and her endless questions and her complete inability to take no for an answer.
She cracked me open. Made me want things I'd given up on. Made me believe I could be more than just the broken pieces of who I used to be.
We got married a year after she moved in. Small ceremony, just us and a handful of people from town. Frank was there. Casey. Murphy. Ridge, of course, who wore a bow tie Jade insisted on and looked absolutely miserable about it.
It was perfect.
Jade kept working as a waitress for a while after that, splitting her time between the cabin and the house in town that we eventually sold. But when Emmy came, she decided to take time off. Said she wanted to be here for these early years, wanted to watch our daughter grow without missing a moment.
I supported it. Whatever she wanted. Whatever made her happy. Because her happiness is mine now. Tied together in a way I never expected.
Emmy's eyes finally close completely, her breathing evening out into sleep. Jade keeps rocking for another minute, just to make sure, then stands.
That's when she sees me.
She smiles and whispers, "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough," I whisper back.
"Creep."
"She asleep?"
"Finally. She fought it hard today."
I move closer, looking down at our daughter. She's so small still. So fragile. Dark hair like mine, but Jade's nose and mouth. Perfect.
"You want to put her down?" Jade asks.
I nod and take Emmy from her arms. She barely stirs, just makes a soft sound and settles against my chest. I carry her to the nursery, the room that used to be storage until we cleared it out and painted it soft yellow. Jade wanted yellow. Said it was cheerful without being too much.
I lower Emmy into her crib, making sure she's on her back, making sure the monitor is on. Old habits from all the safety briefings Jade made me sit through.
She doesn't wake. Just curls onto her side, her little fist near her face. I stand there for a moment, just watching her breathe. Still can't quite believe she's real. That she's mine. Ours.
When I come back out, Jade's in the kitchen, putting on water for tea.
"She go down okay?" she asks.
"Yeah."
"Good. Maybe we'll get a full night's sleep tonight."
"Maybe."
We both know we probably won't. Emmy's been teething, which means she's been waking up crying at least once a night. But that's okay. I don't mind getting up with her. Don't mind the interrupted sleep.
It's so different from the nightmares that used to wake me. Better. Worth it.
Jade moves to the couch and I follow, sitting beside her. She immediately curls into my side, the way she always does, and I wrap my arm around her.
"How was the wood chopping?" she asks.
"Good. Got through most of the pile."
"Your shoulders are going to be sore tomorrow."
"Probably."
"Want me to rub them later?"
"Always."
She laughs softly. "Such a demanding husband."
"You love it."
"I really do."
We sit in comfortable silence, the kind we've perfected over three years together. The fire crackles. The monitor on the side table shows Emmy still sleeping peacefully. Ridge scratches at the door and I let him in, and he immediately goes to his bed in the corner.
Everything is exactly where it should be.
"I was thinking," Jade says after a while.
"Yeah?"
"Maybe we should start talking about preschool options. I know Emmy's still a baby, but the good ones have waitlists."
"She's seven months old."
"I know, but—"
"Jade."
She looks up at me. "What?"
"We've got time. We'll figure it out when we need to."
She smiles. "You're right. Sorry. I'm getting ahead of myself."
"You always do."
"Someone has to plan around here."
"And someone has to remind you to slow down."
She kisses my jaw. "We make a good team."
"Yeah. We do."
And we do. In ways I never imagined possible. She plans, I ground her. I shut down, she pushes. She asks questions, I eventually answer them. I chop wood, she makes our house a home.
We balance each other.
"Hey, Eli?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you happy?"
I think about that. Really think about it.
Three years ago, when she asked me that same question, I said I thought so. Said I wasn't sure I remembered what it felt like.
But now?
Now I know.
I look around the cabin, at the toys scattered in the corner, at the photos Jade insisted we hang on the walls, at the woman in my arms and the daughter sleeping in the next room.
"Yeah," I say, and I mean it completely. "I'm happy."
She smiles against my chest. "Good. Me too."
"Even with the sleepless nights and the teething and living out here in the woods?"
"Especially with all that. This is exactly where I want to be."
"With a grumpy lumberjack?"
"With the man I love. Who happens to be a lumberjack. And who's a lot less grumpy than he pretends to be."
I pull her closer, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I love you."
"I love you too."
From the nursery, Emmy makes a soft sound through the monitor. Not crying, just shifting in her sleep. We both listen, waiting to see if she'll wake. But after a moment, she settles again.
"We made a good one," Jade whispers.
"We did."
"Think we should make another?"
I look down at her, surprised. "You want another one?"
"Not right now. But eventually. Maybe in a couple years. Give Emmy a sibling."
I think about it. About this cabin filled with more life, more noise, more love. About watching Jade pregnant again, about holding another tiny person we made together.
"Yeah," I say. "I'd like that."
"Really?"
"Really."
Her smile is radiant. "Okay. Something to look forward to."
We fall quiet again, and I think about everything that led me here. The war. The loss. The six years of isolation. The hardware store. The terrible lasagna. The kiss that changed everything.
All of it. Every moment. Every choice.
It brought me to this. To her. To Emmy. To a life I never thought I'd have.
I still have bad days. Days where the nightmares come back, where the guilt is heavy, where I need the quiet. But Jade understands. She gives me space when I need it and pulls me back when I'm drifting too far.
And now there's Emmy. This tiny person who looks at me like I'm her whole world. Who doesn't care about my past or my mistakes. Who just wants me to hold her and sing to her and be her dad.
It's healing in a way I never expected.
"Thank you," I whisper.
Jade shifts to look at me. "For what?"
"For not giving up. For pushing. For seeing something in me worth fighting for."
"Eli—"
"I mean it. You saved me."
"We saved each other," she says softly. "I was just as lost when I got here. Just as broken. You gave me a reason to stay. A reason to build something new."
"Still. Thank you."
She kisses me. "You're welcome. But you don't have to keep thanking me. This is my life too. Our life. And I wouldn't trade it for anything."
Neither would I.
Not for anything in the world.
Outside, the sun is setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Ridge is snoring in his bed. Emmy is sleeping peacefully. And Jade is warm and solid in my arms.
Things have never been this good.
And I finally believe they can stay this way.
Thank you for reading it!