Second Epilogue
Saxon
five years later
The firehouse feels more like a second home than ever.
It’s late afternoon, sun dipping behind Devil’s Peak, turning the sky a soft gold. The station hums with its usual soundtrack—engine rumble, laughter echoing from the rec room, Rowan arguing with Axel about who stole the last donut.
And right in the middle of it all?
My kids.
Mason is sitting on the floor with a pile of toy engines, making siren noises so loud half the guys have given up pretending to ignore him.
Penelope—Penny—is perched on my turnout coat, brushing it with her tiny pink hairbrush like she’s grooming a horse.
Briar leans against one of the engines watching them, arms crossed, smiling in that way that still hits me in the chest every damn time.
We’ve been married almost six years, and I still look at her like I’m learning how to breathe.
“Daddy!” Penny shouts. “Your coat is very dirty.”
I kneel beside her, brushing a strand of honey-blonde hair—Briar’s hair—behind her ear. “It’s meant to be dirty, sweetheart.”
“No,” she insists. “This coat needs to be sparkly.”
Mason looks up. “Dad doesn’t do sparkly.”
“Dad might start,” I tease, ruffling his hair. “If Penny says so.”
Briar laughs softly. “Careful. She’ll hold you to that.”
I glance up at her.
Her smile softens, eyes warm, full, knowing.
It still floors me that this woman picked me. Trusted me. Built a life with me. Gave me two kids who crash through the firehouse like they own the place.
And then—
“Alright, alright, back off, hooligans,” a familiar voice calls.
My mother strides into the bay, coat zipped up against the evening chill, hair pulled into a messy bun. She’s got the same steel in her spine she had when she raised four kids on her own—only softer now, warmed by years of grandchildren calling her “Mimi.”
She spreads her arms wide. “Give your Mimi a hug before you terrorize her house.”
Penny screams like she’s being launched from a cannon and hurls herself into my mom’s arms.
Mason follows but tries to play it cool, which fools exactly no one.
Junie wraps herself around Mimi’s legs.
My mom kisses their cheeks, smushes their hair, and says in a dramatic voice, “Goodness gracious, you three have grown even taller since breakfast.”
“Mimi,” Mason groans, “you saw us two hours ago.”
“Two hours is long enough to miss you,” she says, squeezing him.
I stand and kiss her cheek. “Thanks for babysitting.”
“You kidding?” Mom grins. “These three are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Besides you, of course.”
“Uh-huh.”
Penny tugs her sleeve. “We gonna make cookies?”
“Oh yes,” Mom says. “Chocolate chip, snickerdoodle, and the ones you like with the sprinkles.”
Penny gasps like she’s heard the secrets of the universe. “Sprinkles!”
Mason leans in. “And can we watch the firefighter movie again?”
Mom opens her mouth to answer, but Mason cuts in quickly:
“The one where the firefighter rescues everyone and gets the girl.”
Mom winks at me. “I see. Someone has a hero they’re modeling after.”
Mason shrugs but can’t hide the smile that says he knows exactly who that hero is.
I fight the emotion tightening my throat.
Just last month the adoption paperwork was finalized.
Junie is officially my daughter. Briar’s ex gave us trouble at first, but when two years go by and you haven’t seen or called your daughter once—signing over parental rights seems like only a formality.
Good riddance to him. I pat Junie’s head and she beams up at me.
She’s still the happiest girl I’ve ever met, just like her momma.
My mom kisses me once more. “Go. Have your date night. Your father would be so damn proud of you. I wish he was still here to see these three.”
The words hit harder than she knows. A heart attack took him last year, went to bed one night and didn’t wake up the next morning. I swipe at a tear, and nod, kiss the kids, and watch them pile into her SUV. As the taillights disappear down the snowy road, I let out a breath.
Briar steps into my side. “You good?”
“Always,” I say, sliding my hand into hers. “With you.”
She blushes—the same way she did the first time I kissed her outside that burning hotel, the first time she told me she loved me, the first time she said “I do.”
“Let’s walk,” I say.
She nods.
The Phantom River is quiet this time of night.
Snow blankets the banks, powder glistening under the moon. The water moves slow and dark, reflecting silver ripples from the sky. Our breath hangs in the air, mixing like it always does.
Briar squeezes my hand as we walk the narrow trail along the river’s edge.
“This is perfect,” she murmurs.
“It is,” I say—though I’m not looking at the scenery at all.
Only her.
Her hair is tucked into her scarf, cheeks rosy from the cold, lips forming a soft little smile that’s equal parts nostalgia and wonder.
“This used to be where I’d come to clear my head,” I say quietly. “Before you.”
She tilts her head. “And now?”
I lift her hand to my mouth, brushing a slow kiss across her knuckles.
“Now you’re the place I go to breathe.”
Her steps falter.
Her eyes shine.
She presses into my side, her voice small. “You always know how to undo me.”
“That’s the idea.”
We stop at the river bend, the moon bright above us, the water whispering softly below.
Briar leans into me, head on my shoulder.
“Five years,” she says. “Can you believe it?”
I wrap my arms around her waist from behind, pulling her into my chest. “Feels like my whole life and no time at all.”
She laughs gently.
Her fingers lace over mine at her stomach. “I never thought I’d have this. A family. Holidays. A marriage that feels like home.”
“You built this,” I murmur against her hair. “I just stepped into it.”
She turns in my arms, looking up at me, eyes warm and bright.
“You saved me, Saxon.”
I shake my head. “No. I loved you. There’s a difference.”
She rises on her toes and kisses me softly. I tighten my hold on her, pulling her closer, kissing her again, longer this time. The cold fades and the world narrows. Her hands slide to my chest. My breath grows heavy as her lips part. We kiss slow and deep, emotion in every stroke.
When she pulls back, she’s breathing hard. “God, you still do this to me.”
I smirk. “Do what?”
“Make me forget my name.”
“You don’t need it right now.”
She raises a brow. “Oh? And what do I need?”
“Less clothing.”
Her cheeks flush in the moonlight. “Saxon…”
I lift an eyebrow. “Come on, sweetheart. Last time we skinny-dipped out here was what, a year after Mason was born?”
She laughs into my chest. “We were almost caught.”
“Worth it.”
Her breath trembles—because she knows exactly where this is going. “Saxon, it’s freezing.”
“I’ll keep you warm.”
She bites her lip. Hard. “You’re impossible.”
“And you love it.”
She rolls her eyes, but her smile gives her away. “If we get frostbite—”
“I’ll rescue you. Again.”
I slide my hands down her sides, tugging her closer, brushing my lips against her ear.
“Let me undress you,” I whisper.
Her breath stutters.
There it is.
I step back just enough to watch her face as I slide my fingers to the hem of her coat. “Say no and I’ll stop.”
She swallows. “I’m not saying no.”
My smile is slow. Dangerous. Certain. “Good.”
I unbutton her coat, one slow button at a time, knuckles grazing her stomach. She trembles beneath my touch, breath catching with each inch of skin exposed to the cold air—and my hands.
When the coat opens, I slip it from her shoulders.
She shivers but not from the cold. I tug her sweater up next.
She lifts her arms without hesitation, lips parted, eyes on mine the whole time.
Her shirt hits the snow and her skin gleams in the moonlight, soft and pale and perfect.
My hands roam her sides—slow, reverent, possessive.
“Saxon,” she whispers, voice shaking.
“I’ve got you.”
My fingers slide to the button of her jeans.
“Still good?” I murmur.
She nods, voice breathless. “Yes.”
I unbutton them as I watch every reaction on her face.
She laughs shakily. “You’re going to kill me.”
“Not tonight.”
I tug them down just enough for her to step out. Her breath comes in shallow waves, chest rising fast, nipples tight in the cold night air, her body arching naturally toward my heat.
She reaches for me. “Your turn.”
She pulls at my shirt, her hands sliding up my stomach, warm and eager. I raise my arms, letting her strip me the same slow way I stripped her. Her palms skim my chest. I suck in a breath. Her fingers trail lower.
I catch her wrist gently. “If you keep that up, we’re not making it to the water.”
She blushes, smiling wickedly. “Maybe that’s the point.”
I kiss her again—deep and hungry—and we stumble closer to the riverbank.
The water glows silver.
“Ready?” I murmur.
“Yes,” she whispers. “Take me in.”
I step into the river, pulling her with me. The cold hits first, sharp and shocking—but the minute her body presses into mine, heat floods back in a wave.
She wraps her arms around my neck. I lift her by her waist, her legs floating up instinctively, her body molding against mine. Her lips find my throat.
I groan.
She kisses me—slow, deep, the kind of kiss that unravels every remaining thread of restraint I ever thought I had.
Our foreheads touch. Our breaths mix. Her thighs tighten around me.
My hands roam her back, her ribs, her hips—slowly, reverently, hungrily—pulling her deeper into my arms, deeper into the water, deeper into every part of me.
The moon hangs above us. The river moves softly around our bodies. Her whisper brushes my lips.
“I love you, Saxon.”
Something in my chest gives.
Breaks. Heals. Fills.
I kiss her—gentle at first, then deeper, slower, our bodies aligned beneath the surface of the water, her skin slick and soft under my hands, her mouth answering every question I never dared ask.
“Briar…” I murmur against her lips, “I love you. Always.”
And as the world fades around us, her body warm against mine, her breath soft at my mouth, the river holding us in quiet silver—we sink deeper into the moment. Deeper into each other. And the rest of the night unfolds in heat and moonlight.
This woman ignited my soul, lit a flame that will never extinguish, she’s all mine. And I’ll spend the rest of my days reminding her how deeply my love runs for the family we’ve built.
Together. Always.
The End