Epilogue - Connor
My daughter has my eyes.
She’s barely a month old, wrapped in a soft white blanket and cradled against Fern’s chest, but I can already see it. The same shade of blue. The same curious way of studying everything around her, like she’s trying to figure out the world one piece at a time.
“Stop staring,” Fern teases without looking up. “You’re making me nervous.”
“I’m not staring at you. I’m staring at her.”
“You’re staring at both of us.”
“Can you blame me?” I reach out and brush my finger against our daughter’s cheek, marveling at how soft her skin is. “You two are the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”
Fern finally lifts her head, and her smile makes my heart stutter the same way it did the first time I saw her. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m in love. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?”
“Not really, no.”
She laughs, and the sound echoes through the small room where we’re waiting.
Beyond the door, I can hear the sound of voices as the pack gathers in the Hollow.
They’re all out there—Nic and Luna, Skylar and Dylan, Thomas and James, every member of Silvercreek who could make it tonight. All of them are waiting for us.
Waiting for this.
“Are you nervous?” I ask.
“A little,” Fern admits. “Is that stupid? We’re already mated. We’ve been together for over a year now. This is just… a formality.”
“It’s not stupid. And it’s not just a formality.” I move closer and wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling both her and the baby against my side. “The first ceremony was about the lottery. About tradition and obligation. This one is different.”
“How?”
“This one is about choice. About standing in front of everyone we care about and saying that we choose each other. Not because some ancient ritual told us to, but because we want to.” I press a kiss to the top of her head. “Because I can’t imagine my life without you anymore.”
Fern leans into me, and I feel some of the nervousness drain out of her body. “When did you get so good with words?”
“I’ve been practicing.”
“Practicing?”
“I wrote down what I wanted to say tonight about fifty times. Kept throwing it away and starting over because nothing sounded right.”
“Connor.” She tilts her head back to look at me. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I did. You deserve the perfect words, Fern. You deserve everything perfect.” I glance down at our daughter, who has started to squirm in her blanket. “Both of you do.”
A knock at the door interrupts whatever Fern was about to say. Luna pokes her head in, her face bright with excitement.
“They’re ready for you,” she announces. “Everyone’s gathered, and the moon is almost at its peak. It’s time.”
My heart kicks against my ribs. This is it.
The moment I’ve been waiting for ever since Fern told me she loved me in that tiny examination room at the medical center.
The moment I get to stand in front of my pack and claim her as mine—not because I have to, but because I want to more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
“Ready?” I ask Fern.
She takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders. “Ready.”
We walk out of the room together, side by side, with our daughter nestled between us. The path to the Hollow is lined with lanterns, and pack members smile and nod as we pass, some of them reaching out to touch my shoulder or squeeze Fern’s hand.
The Hollow itself is transformed. Someone has strung more lanterns through the trees, and wildflowers are scattered across the grass in clusters of purple and white. At the center of the clearing stands Nic, waiting to officiate, with Luna at his side.
The entire pack has formed a circle around the edges of the Hollow.
I spot Skylar near the front, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.
Dylan stands beside her with his arm around her waist, looking surprisingly emotional for someone who usually acts like feelings are a foreign concept.
Thomas catches my eye and gives me a nod of approval.
“Breathe,” Fern whispers as we approach the center of the circle.
“I am breathing.”
“You’re holding your breath. I can tell.”
She’s right. I force myself to exhale and fill my lungs with fresh air. We stop in front of Nic, and he greets us with a warm smile.
“Welcome,” he says, his voice carrying across the Hollow. “We gather tonight to witness something rare and beautiful. A mating ceremony born not of obligation, but of love. Not of tradition, but of choice.”
He looks out at the assembled pack members before continuing.
“Connor and Fern came together through the lottery, as many of us do. But what grew between them was something the lottery could never have predicted or planned. It was real. It was true. And it brought into this world a new life—a daughter who represents the very best of both of them.”
Nic turns his attention back to us.
“Connor. Do you stand here tonight of your own free will, choosing Fern as your mate, your partner, and your equal in all things?”
“I do.” My voice comes out stronger than I expected. Steadier.
“And do you pledge to protect her, to cherish her, and to stand beside her through whatever challenges life may bring?”
“I do. With everything I am and everything I have.”
Nic nods and addresses Fern.
“Fern. Do you stand here tonight of your own free will, choosing Connor as your mate, your partner, and your equal in all things?”
“I do.” Her voice catches slightly, and I see tears glistening in her eyes.
“And do you pledge to trust him, to support him, and to build a life together founded on love and mutual respect?”
“I do. Always.”
Nic reaches out and places one hand on my shoulder and one on Fern’s.
“Then by the power vested in me as Alpha of the Silvercreek pack, I recognize this bond as true and binding. You are no longer mates by lottery. You are mates by choice. May your union bring strength to each other, joy to your family, and pride to this pack.”
The Hollow erupts in cheers and applause. Pack members rush forward to congratulate us, and suddenly, we’re surrounded by smiling faces and warm embraces. Someone claps me on the back so hard I nearly stumble. Someone else is crying openly, though I can’t tell who through the crowd.
Through it all, I keep my arm around Fern and my eyes on our daughter. She’s awake now, blinking up at the lanterns with those blue eyes that mirror my own. She doesn’t cry or fuss; she just watches the celebration unfold around her, as if she knows something important is happening.
“She’s going to be a handful,” Fern observes as the crowd finally starts to thin out. “I can already tell.”
“She’s going to be perfect.”
“Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”
I laugh and pull Fern closer. “No, they’re not.”
The celebration continues around us. Someone has set up tables covered with food and drink, and pack members mingle and chat as music drifts through the trees. It feels less like a formal ceremony and more like a family gathering, which I suppose is exactly what it is.
Luna approaches us with two glasses of something sparkling. “Non-alcoholic for the nursing mother,” she assures Fern. “Though I’m told it’s delicious anyway.”
“Thank you.” Fern accepts the glass and takes a sip. “For everything, Luna. Not just the drink. For saving me that day at the clinic. For being there when I needed someone.”
“That’s what a pack is for.” Luna reaches out and strokes the baby’s cheek. “Besides, I wasn’t going to let anything happen to this little one’s mother. She’s too important.”
“The baby or me?”
“Both.”
After Luna drifts away to join Nic, I guide Fern toward the edge of the Hollow, where it’s quieter. We find a fallen log to sit on, and Fern adjusts the baby in her arms while I settle beside her.
“How do you feel?” I ask.
“Happy,” she replies, beaming. “Overwhelmed. Like, I can’t quite believe this is my life now.”
“Believe it.” I wrap my arm around her and rest my chin on top of her head. “This is real, Fern. This is forever.”
“Forever is a long time.”
“Not long enough. I could have a thousand forevers with you and still want more.”
She laughs softly and shakes her head. “You really have been practicing.”
“I told you.”
We sit in comfortable silence for a while, watching the pack celebrate.
The baby falls asleep against Fern’s chest with her tiny fingers curled into fists.
I study her face—the shape of her nose, the curve of her cheeks, the way her mouth puckers slightly as she dreams—and feel a love so fierce it almost hurts.
“I’m going to protect you both,” I declare. “I know I’ve said it before, but I need you to hear it again. Nothing is ever going to hurt either of you. Not while I’m alive.”
Fern turns her head to look at me. “I know.”
“After everything that happened with Robbie, after how close I came to losing you both… I won’t let anything like that happen again. Ever.”
“Connor.” She reaches up and cups my face in her hand. “I believe you. I trust you. I know you’ll always keep us safe.”
“Always,” I promise. “No matter what.”
She leans in and kisses me, soft and slow, and I pour everything I’m feeling into the contact. All the love I have for her. All the gratitude that she chose me. All the hope I have for our future together.
When we break apart, she’s smiling.
“Take us home?” she asks.
I stand and offer her my hand, helping her to her feet without jostling the sleeping baby. The celebration is still going strong behind us, but no one tries to stop us as we slip away into the trees.
The walk back to our cabin is quiet and peaceful. Fern leans against my side, and I keep my arm wrapped securely around her shoulders. Above us, the moon hangs full and bright, casting silver shadows across the path.
“I love you,” I tell her as our cabin comes into view.
“I love you too.”
“I’m going to keep saying it. Every day. Until you’re sick of hearing it.”
“I’ll never be sick of hearing it.”
I push open the front door and guide her inside, already imagining all the days and nights and years stretching out ahead of us.
A lifetime of mornings waking up beside her.
A lifetime of watching our daughter grow.
A lifetime of loving this woman who stumbled into Silvercreek and changed everything.
I made her a promise once, with tears streaming down my face. I swore I would protect her and our child, no matter what it took.
Looking at her now—tired but happy, cradling our daughter against her heart—I know that promise will define the rest of my life.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
*****
THE END