Epilogue
A week later
Trevor’s boots crunched over the leaf-strewn trail as he led Helena toward the overlook at Helen Hunt Falls in Colorado Springs.
The late-morning air was crisp, the distant roar of the falls growing louder with every step.
Lark trotted ahead, her nose to the ground, tail wagging as she disappeared into the dense underbrush, only to reappear moments later, circling back to check on them.
She had been more vigilant lately, almost as if she sensed the emotional depth of the past few days.
Helena walked beside him, her steps light but steady, a small, ornate urn cradled against her chest. Trevor’s gaze flicked to her, noting the way the sunlight caught the strands of her dark hair.
She had dressed simply in worn jeans and a flannel that swallowed her slight frame, but to him, she had never looked more beautiful—her strength woven into every line of her body.
The falls came into view as they rounded the last bend, the frothy cascade tumbling over jagged rocks, mist rising like tendrils to dance among the trees.
Trevor’s pulse quickened, his fingers brushing against the small, velvet box nestled deep in his jacket pocket.
His thumb traced the hard edge of the princess-cut diamond ring inside, a constant reminder of the promise he was about to make.
They reached the rocky outcrop overlooking the churning pool below, the spray cool against his flushed skin.
Helena’s steps slowed, her eyes misting as she gazed out over the water.
He watched her shoulders tense, then relax, a long breath escaping her lips.
She carefully unscrewed the urn’s lid, her hands trembling slightly.
“My mom and dad loved this place. It’s why they named me Helena,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. “I think it’s fitting to spread his ashes here to be with Mom in their favorite place. Now that the permit came through, I’m ready.”
Trevor’s throat tightened, and he stepped closer, his hand resting gently on her back, feeling the subtle tremor in her muscles.
“You don’t have to let go all at once,” he said, his voice rough. “Grief’s not a clean break. It’s more like…layers. You peel them back, bit by bit, and some days you find a fresh wound where you thought a scar had formed.”
Her head tilted, and she glanced up at him, her eyes glassy but bright, a hint of a smile touching her lips. “You always know what to say. I know you’re still grieving, too.”
“I am.” He managed a small, self-conscious chuckle, his pulse thundering as he took a half step back.
Now or never.
His hand clenched around the small box. At first, he’d considered not doing it this day, the day she sprinkled some ashes.
But then he’d thought about the seasons of life and death. Grief and hope. And it made sense.
“Helena,” he began, his voice catching slightly. He cleared his throat, swallowing down the knot of nerves. “I’ve been trying to find the right time, the right place, but the truth is, there’s never a perfect moment. Just the right person. And today seems like, while not perfect, appropriate.”
She froze, her eyes widening as the gravity of his words hit her.
Her gaze locked onto his, a thousand unspoken thoughts passing between them.
He pulled the box from his pocket, flipping it open to reveal the simple, elegantly set diamond ring nestled inside.
The stone caught the sunlight, casting tiny rainbows against the backdrop of tumbling water.
“You’re my right person,” he said, his voice steady despite the fierce hammering of his heart. “Today, while we let go with grief, we can also cling to one another with hope. While we let one chapter fade, we write a new one.”
A tear slipped down Helena’s cheek, her lips parting in a soft, breathless exhale. Her fingers tightened around the urn, her pulse visible at the base of her throat.
“I know life’s been hard on you,” he continued, his thumb brushing over the cool, polished edge of the ring. “I know you’ve carried more than anyone should ever have to. But I want to be the one you lean on. The one you come home to. The one who stands beside you through the fires and the storms.”
“I kind of don’t want to deal with fires again.”
He laughed. “I hear that.”
He took a slow, deliberate step closer, the mist from the falls clinging to his skin, the rush of water a deep, echoing rhythm beneath his words. “Marry me, Helena. Let me be the one who walks with you, every step, every climb, every fall.”
For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, the roar of the falls fading into the background, the wind whispering through the trees like a chorus of forgotten voices.
She reached for him, her hand trembling as it found his cheek, her thumb brushing against the rough stubble of his jaw.
Her lips curved into a smile, her eyes shining even as fresh tears spilled over her lashes.
“Yes,” she whispered, her voice breaking, the single word carrying the weight of every fear, every hope, every shattered piece of her heart stitched back together. “Yes, Trevor.”
A fierce, almost painful surge of relief ballooned in his chest as he slipped the ring from its velvet bed and gently, reverently, slid it onto her finger. It settled perfectly, as if it had always belonged there, a promise sealed against the backdrop of crashing water and ancient stone.
As they stood wrapped in each other’s warmth, his mind drifted back to the funeral, the small, private gathering where his team had shown up, K-9 companions in tow, each dog a steady presence in the background.
He remembered Emmett pulling him aside, his eyes solemn yet hopeful as he’d offered his condolences.
Trevor, needing to focus on something else, had asked about work.
The undercover mission would be underway soon.
And Emmett had cheered him by switching topics, sharing an update about the pups.
Trooper, it seemed, wasn’t cut out for the high-stakes demands of K-9 work, and Dev Singh, the lead K-9 trainer, had made the tough but right call to let him live the life he was meant for—a good, loyal companion, but not a police dog.
Chance, on the other hand, continued to exceed all expectations, rising to every challenge like the warrior he was born to be. The news had struck a chord in Trevor, a quiet echo of his own journey. Finding where he truly belonged, choosing his own path.
He held Helena on that ridge for a long time, wrapped in each other beneath the vast, watchful sky, the mist of the falls swirling around them, a tangible reminder of the power of change, of rebirth.
Finally, they hiked away from the waterways and Helena lifted the urn, her fingers brushing over the cool, engraved metal one last time.
“Goodbye, Dad,” she whispered, tipping the urn, the ashes spilling out near the pines, caught by the wind and carried away. “I will see you again.”
Trevor tightened his hold on her, his lips brushing the crown of her head, and they watched together as the ashes swirled and danced, disappearing but not really gone.
“You know when we have kids, I like the name Bruce for a boy,” he whispered into her hair, his arms still wrapped tightly around her.
“You think about kids…with me?”
He kissed the top of her head. “Absolutely.”
She grinned. “Good, because I was thinking Regina Nancy for a girl.”
“You were?”
“Yeah.”
He held her tight. Thanking God for giving him such a beautiful future.
And hope.
* * * * *