Epilogue
One Month Later
Avery couldn’t see a thing.
The blindfold was snug, tied by Jackson’s own hands before he’d helped her into the SUV. Every few minutes she pretended to reach up and tug it loose, just to hear the quiet chuckle rumble from the driver’s seat.
“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, amusement thick in his voice.
She smiled and leaned back against the seat, feeling the hum of the engine beneath her. “I’m not thinking. I’m wondering.”
“Wondering is allowed,” he said. “Peeking is not.”
His tone was light, easy, so different from the gravel and exhaustion she’d grown used to in his voice after the chaos a month ago. It had been four weeks since the gunfire, the explosions, the screams. A month since she’d thought she might not live long enough to see another sunrise.
But she had. They all had.
The team was healing. Riley and Megan were home, safe with their families.
Darian was in custody, and Mick had agreed to testify in exchange for a plea bargain that would see him charged with voluntary manslaughter rather than murder.
The Brotherhood was gone, what was left of it scattered and broken.
Avery had slept in fits for the first week, waking to echoes of gunfire that weren’t there. But Jackson was patient, always beside her. Sometimes that meant talking until she drifted off. Sometimes it just meant his hand over hers until the world stopped spinning.
She’d learned the sound of his laugh again. The real one. It came easier now.
“Are we close?” she asked, her lips curving.
“Almost.”
The SUV slowed, gravel crunching under the tires. The engine idled, and then Jackson cut it off. The sudden silence felt wide and open, broken only by wind and the faint call of a meadowlark somewhere nearby.
She heard the creak of his door, then his boots hitting the ground. Her own door opened, and a rush of chilly winter air brushed her face.
“Come on,” he said, his hand warm around hers as he helped her out. “Careful. Watch your step.”
She laughed. “Kind of hard to watch anything right now.”
He didn’t let go of her hand as he guided her forward, slow and steady. She felt grass beneath her boots, then solid wood like a porch. A faint scent of cedar and fresh paint filled the air.
“Okay,” he said, stopping behind her. “You ready?”
“Depends. Is this the part where you tell me we’re starting another op?”
He chuckled, the sound deep and soft near her ear. “Not even close.”
The blindfold slid away.
Avery blinked against the sunlight, and then her breath caught when she realized where they were.
Jackson’s ranch.
The one that’d been destroyed in that grenade attack orchestrated by Warren and the Brotherhood. But it wasn’t destroyed now.
They stood at the front door of his house, the afternoon light spilling across a porch with two rocking chairs and a wide swing hung at the far end. Beyond it stretched acres of pasture like paint against the field.
It was quiet. Peaceful.
Home.
Her throat tightened. “Jackson…”
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “The team helped me get it rebuilt. Thought you might want a place that wasn’t filled with bullet holes.” His smile softened. “Figured we both could use one.”
Avery turned toward him, the sunlight catching in his eyes, and for a long moment, she couldn’t speak. Then she smiled, slow and sure.
After everything they’d survived, this was what waited for them.
Peace.
She stepped into him, looping her arms around his waist, and he held her close. “You were right,” she murmured against his chest. “It’s a good surprise.”
Jackson kissed the top of her head. “Told you.”
His mouth found hers before she could even finish smiling.
The kiss was warm at first, soft and steady, but it deepened fast, like always.
One second she was standing on her own, and the next her fingers were tangled in his shirt, holding on as the world narrowed to heat, breath, and the taste of him.
He kissed her like a man who’d missed her, like one who’d nearly lost everything and didn’t intend to waste another second of it. The kind of kiss that made thinking impossible.
It turned hot, fast.
Avery’s pulse raced as his hand slid to the back of her neck, his thumb brushing the edge of her jaw.
She sighed into him, every nerve coming alive.
They’d found themselves here often over the last month, whenever the world went quiet long enough for the weight of everything to hit.
Sex had become a kind of language between them, a way to shut out the noise and remember they were still alive.
And yeah, if that’s where they were heading again, she wasn’t about to complain.
But as Jackson eased back just enough to look at her, his forehead resting against hers, she saw it—the small smile, the gentler one that didn’t come from heat or urgency. His breathing was rough, but his eyes were steady, clear.
No, this wasn’t about that. Not right now.
Avery’s chest ached in the best way. He could have pulled her down right there, could have let them both drown in the fire that always lived just under the surface. Instead, his hand came up, brushing her cheek, slow and reverent.
“Still think I can’t surprise you?” he murmured.
She laughed softly, breathless. “You’ve done a damn good job so far.”
His lips curved, brushing hers again, softer this time.
Yeah, she was certain she’d enjoy another round of their particular brand of therapy later. But for now, standing in front of the house he’d had built for them, with his hands still on her skin and that quiet peace between them, Avery knew this moment wasn’t about desire.
It was about something better.
Jackson turned the doorknob, and the hinges gave a soft creak as the door swung open.
Warm light spilled out, golden against the fading afternoon. Avery blinked, taking in the glow, the scent of cedar and something faintly sweet, cookies maybe, and then her breath caught.
Someone had gone all out.
The cabin was perfect. Rustic and cozy, with wood floors and wide windows, a stone fireplace already crackling, and—she blinked again to make sure she wasn’t imagining it—a Christmas tree in the corner.
Strings of soft white lights twinkled through the pine boughs, and a few carefully hung ornaments gleamed among them.
Her heart gave a little flip.
“Jackson,” she breathed, smiling. “You did all this?”
He grinned, the look on his face pure satisfaction. “Had a little help. The team pitched in.”
Before she could say more, he slid an arm around her waist, another behind her knees, and in one smooth move, scooped her up.
“Jackson!” she yelped, laughing as her arms flew around his neck. “What are you doing?”
“Tradition,” he said, carrying her through the doorway as if she weighed nothing. “You can’t walk into a new home. You get carried in.”
She laughed, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. “This feels very honeymoon-ish.”
He stopped just inside, her still in his arms, and kissed her. Slow, deep, the kind of kiss that said he didn’t want to be anywhere else. When he pulled back, his voice was low and rough.
“A honeymoon’s a great idea,” he said with a grin, “but we’re getting ahead of ourselves.”
Her smile faded into a soft, questioning look. “What do you mean?”
Jackson set her gently on her feet, but his hands stayed on her waist. His eyes met hers, steady and sure.
“I mean,” he said, “that I’m in love with you, Avery.
Completely, head over heels in love with you.
And I don’t want to just build safehouses and battlefields with you. I want to build a home.”
Her heart stopped for half a beat. “Jackson…”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, the kind that made her throat tighten just looking at it.
“The guys helped me pick it out,” he said with a crooked smile. “Noah kept vetoing everything with too much sparkle. Isla threatened to take over completely.”
He flipped the box open. Inside was a simple ring, a delicate silver band with a single diamond that caught the firelight and scattered it in a dozen tiny stars.
“Marry me,” he said softly. “Make this place a home…with me.”
For a second, Avery couldn’t speak. The words tangled somewhere between her heart and her throat. All she could do was stare at him, at the man who had carried her through fire, through fear, through hell itself, and now stood in front of her offering everything good that was left in the world.
Tears pricked at her eyes, and she smiled. “Yes,” she whispered. “Of course I will.”
Jackson’s breath came out in a soft laugh, one full of relief and love. He slipped the ring onto her finger, and it fit perfectly. Then he kissed her again, the firelight flickering over them, the Christmas lights twinkling like stars.
For the first time in a long time, Avery didn’t feel like she was surviving.
She felt like she was home.
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