Epilogue
Aaron
It’s been six months since the night three masked men broke into my cabin and tried to take her from me. Since I carried her out of that warehouse, bruised and defiant and alive, clinging to me like I was the only solid thing left in her world.
Six months since I stopped pretending I could ever let her go.
The ranch looks different tonight.
The training grounds are empty. No rifles.
No drills. No perimeter lights on high alert.
Instead, strings of soft white bulbs are draped between the live oaks, swaying gently in the evening breeze, turning the whole spread into something out of a dream I never knew I was allowed to have.
Long tables are set under the biggest oak, covered in white linen, wildflowers in mason jars, candles flickering in glass holders.
The smell of barbecue and fresh-baked cornbread drifts from the pit Gray insisted on tending himself.
Kids are running barefoot through the grass, laughing, chasing fireflies that are just starting to blink on as the sun sinks.
I stand on the porch of the main house in a black button-down, sleeves rolled to my elbows, Stetson low, boots polished. My hands are in my pockets to hide the fact that they’re shaking.
I’m about to marry the best thing that ever happened to me.
The woman who crashed into my life like a storm, who fought me every step of the way, who made me feel things I thought I’d buried with my team years ago.
The woman who’s currently inside the house, getting ready, surrounded by Mae, Laura, and Josie, laughing and probably rolling her eyes at whatever ridiculous thing Symon just said.
I can’t stop pacing.
Gray steps up beside me, hands in his pockets, watching the same view I am.
“Nervous?” he asks, voice low, amused.
I snort. “I’ve faced down worse than a wedding.”
He chuckles. “That’s what they all say. Until they see her walking toward them.”
I swallow. “Yeah.”
He claps a hand on my shoulder. “She’s good for you. You’re good for her.”
I nod. Can’t speak.
The music starts: a soft acoustic guitar, the song Megan picked. Something slow and sweet about coming home.
Everyone turns, and then she’s there.
Megan steps out from behind the house, barefoot in the grass, white dress flowing around her like water.
Simple lace, off-the-shoulder, fitted at the waist, then falling loose to her ankles.
No veil. Just her hair down in loose curls, wildflowers tucked into the strands—daisies and baby’s breath.
No makeup beyond a touch of color on her lips.
Just her. Glowing. Radiant. Smiling at me like I’m the only person in the world.
I forget how to breathe.
Josie walks in front of her, little basket in hand, scattering petals with exaggerated care, grinning so wide her cheeks are pink.
She’s wearing a pale yellow sundress, barefoot, with her hair in two braids and ribbons.
I see Gray smiling at her out of the corner of my eye. He loves his daughter fiercely.
Megan’s eyes find mine across the grass.
The world narrows to just her.
I can’t stop staring.
She walks toward me, slow, sure, barefoot in the grass, every step deliberate, like she’s savoring it. The string lights catch in her hair, in her eyes, turning her into something almost otherworldly.
When she reaches the makeshift aisle, two rows of hay bales draped in white, she stops.
Josie hands her the basket, then runs to Gray, who’s standing beside me as officiant.
Megan looks up at me.
I’m already moving.
I step down, take her hand, and pull her the last few feet until she’s standing in front of me.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, voice cracking.
Her eyes shine. “You’re not so bad yourself, love.”
Symon, standing behind me as best man, snorts. “Jesus, get a room.”
The small crowd laughs. Even Gray cracks a smile.
Megan squeezes my hand.
Gray clears his throat.
We don’t need long vows.
We already know.
Gray speaks. The ceremony is simple and traditional. When it’s our turn, Megan goes first.
She looks up at me, eyes shining, voice steady.
“I was running toward a story. I found you instead. You saved my life more than once, in more than one way. You gave me a home when I didn’t know I needed one.
You taught me to fight, to trust, to love without fear.
I promise to keep fighting with you, for you, beside you.
I promise to steal your shirts, burn your toast, and love you every single day. Forever.”
My throat closes, and I swallow hard.
It’s my turn. I take both her hands and look into those green eyes that see right through me.
“I was living half a life before you. Walls up. Rules in place. No attachments. No complications. Then you crashed into my world—stubborn, brilliant, fearless—and you tore every wall down. You made me feel again. You made me want again. You made me believe in forever again. I promise to protect you, not just from the world, but from my own stubbornness. I promise to hold you when you’re scared, laugh when you’re ridiculous, and love you every moment of my life.
I promise to be your home, your safe place, and your forever. ”
Tears spill down her cheeks, but she smiles through them.
Gray’s voice is rough. “Rings.”
Symon hands them over. Simple gold bands with the word forever etched inside.
I slide hers onto her finger. She slides mine onto mine.
Gray smiles. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Kiss your bride, Jenkins.”
I don’t wait.
I pull her into me, cup her face, and kiss her deep, pouring every promise into it. She melts against me, arms around my neck, fingers in my hair.
The crowd cheers. Symon whistles loudly and obnoxiously. Josie giggles.
When we break apart, her eyes are shining.
“I’m yours now,” she whispers.
“Always were,” I whisper back.
We dance under the stars.
The music is slow, acoustic guitar, and soft vocals. She’s barefoot in the grass, dress swirling around her legs. I hold her close, one hand on her waist, the other cradling the back of her head. She rests her cheek against my chest.
The string lights sway overhead. Fireflies blink in the fields. The ranch is quiet. Peaceful. Home.
I lean down, lips against her ear. “I love you so much.”
She tilts her head back and smiles, bright, beautiful, mine.
“I love you too, Aaron.”
I kiss her again under the stars.
The world fades until it’s just us.
Forever.
Thanks for riding with us through Valor Springs.