Epilogue Merry Christmas
~REVERIE~
I'm squealing at the top of my lungs as we sprint through Oakridge's town square, my breath coming out in white puffs in the freezing December air, my heart pounding with excitement and exertion and pure unbridled joy that makes me feel like I could fly.
"HURRY GUYS! We're not going to make it in time!" I shout back at my pack, laughing breathlessly as I run as fast as my legs will carry me toward the massive town Christmas tree that towers in the center of the square like something from a fairy tale.
Biscuit barks excitedly, his little golden retriever puppy legs working overtime as he bounds ahead of all of us with surprising speed for such a small dog, leading the way with his fluffy tail wagging furiously like a flag of pure happiness.
He's only been officially ours for six hours but he's already claimed pack leader status in his own adorable puppy mind. His happy barks echo through the mostly empty square, bouncing off shop windows and making a few late-night stragglers smile as we run past.
The town square is absolutely magical right now, like someone took a Christmas card and brought it to life. Strings of lights are draped everywhere—wrapped carefully around lamp posts, strung in swooping lines between buildings, woven through the branches of bare trees.
The shop windows along Main Street glow warmly, their displays still lit up showcasing Christmas decorations and winter scenes.
Fresh snow from earlier today covers everything in a pristine white blanket that crunches satisfyingly under our running feet.
The massive Christmas tree in the center—at least forty feet tall, maybe more—is lit up with thousands of twinkling lights in every color imaginable, visible from every single corner of town like a beacon of holiday spirit.
Behind me, the guys are bickering and racing one another with the kind of competitive intensity usually reserved for professional sports. Their voices carry through the cold night air.
"I'm winning! I'm definitely winning!" Grayson yells triumphantly, his voice slightly breathless but victorious.
"Like absolute hell you are!" Nash shoots back, his longer legs eating up ground fast, boots pounding on the snowy pavement. "I'm literally right behind you!"
"Military training, bitches!" Theo calls out with smug confidence, putting on a sudden burst of speed that makes him almost catch Grayson. "Uncle Sam taught me how to run! You civilians don't stand a chance!"
"That's cheating!" Nash argues between breaths, his voice indignant. "Using specialized training is cheating!"
"How is using skills I learned in service to my country cheating?! That's the opposite of cheating! That's preparation!"
"Because you're faster than us regular people!"
"That's literally the entire definition of winning!"
"You know what I mean!"
"I really don't!"
I reach the base of the enormous Christmas tree first, stumbling to a halt and immediately bending over to catch my breath while laughing so hard my sides hurt.
The tree is even more impressive up close than from a distance.
Ornaments the size of basketballs hang from thick branches.
Giant candy canes as tall as me lean against the trunk.
Ribbons wrap around the entire structure.
A golden star sits at the very top, at least three feet across, catching the light from street lamps and glowing like a real star fallen from the sky.
This tree is so beautiful.
Grayson arrives a split second before the others, throwing his arms up victoriously like he just won an Olympic gold medal. "First place! I win! I am victorious! Acknowledge my superior speed and athletic prowess!"
Nash and Theo arrive at the exact same moment, slamming into each other as they cross their imaginary finish line simultaneously, both stumbling and grabbing each other to stay upright.
"Tie!" Theo declares immediately, hands on his knees, breathing hard. "Official tie! We crossed together!"
"Damn it!" Nash curses, also bent over trying to catch his breath. "I was definitely winning until you elbowed me in the ribs!"
"I absolutely did not elbow you!" Theo protests. "That was incidental contact at most!"
"Incidental my ass! You deliberately elbowed me!"
"If I wanted to elbow you, you'd know it! I'm trained in close quarters combat! That was just us running close together!"
"You're trained in making excuses!"
They both turn to glare at Grayson simultaneously, who's grinning smugly and not even breathing hard despite the sprint.
"The fucker cheated," Nash accuses, pointing dramatically at Grayson with his whole arm extended.
"He absolutely 100% cheated," Theo agrees immediately, nodding vigorously. "I saw him take a shortcut through the snowbank by the gazebo."
"That wasn't a shortcut, that was strategic route planning!
" Grayson protests with exaggerated mock offense, hand on his chest. "I'm a writer!
I visualize paths and trajectories and spatial relationships!
It's literally what I do for a living! Not my fault you two are completely unimaginative and lack creative problem-solving skills! "
"Unimaginative?!" Nash sputters, looking genuinely offended. "I imagine things all the time!"
"I will have you know I imagine things constantly!" Theo adds passionately. "My imagination is excellent! Top tier! Military grade!"
"Inappropriate things about Reverie don't count as imagination," Grayson says with a knowing smirk, raising one eyebrow suggestively.
"How dare you!" Theo gasps. "I imagine very appropriate things! Like...tactical scenarios! And...mission planning! And...equipment maintenance!"
"Uh huh. Sure you do. Very believable."
"I do! Nash, tell him I imagine appropriate things!"
"I'm not getting involved in this," Nash says, holding up both hands. "Every man for himself."
"Traitor!"
I'm doubled over laughing, tears freezing on my cheeks.
Biscuit runs circles around all of us, barking happily at the chaos. His little paws leave tiny prints in the fresh snow.
This is perfect.
Grayson stops bickering and walks over to me, his maple-honey scent warm and comforting as he reaches up to fix my hair that got completely destroyed during our sprint. He gently tucks windblown strands behind my ears, smooths down flyaways, adjusts my knit hat so it sits properly on my head.
"Are you ready?" he asks softly, his gray eyes meeting mine with excitement and nervousness and hope all mixed together.
We share a look. One of those looks that says everything without words.
Tonight is huge. Tonight changes everything for him. For us.
"Fuck yeah!" I say enthusiastically, grinning so wide my cheeks hurt. "Set the camera up! At midnight it's officially Christmas and your first published book goes live to the entire world! We have to celebrate properly!"
Theo immediately springs into action, pulling the phone and tripod from his tactical backpack that he insisted on bringing. He sets it up with military efficiency, adjusting angles and checking lighting and making sure the massive Christmas tree is perfectly framed behind us.
"Lighting is suboptimal," he mutters, adjusting the phone's position slightly. "But the tree provides good backlight. Composition is decent. Framing could be better but we're working with limited time constraints."
"Theo, it's fine," I laugh. "We're not making a movie."
"All content should meet minimum quality standards," he says seriously. "Your followers deserve excellence."
"They're getting us freezing our butts off in the town square at midnight. That's pretty excellent."
"Fair point."
He taps the screen, navigating to TikTok.
Hovers his finger over the live button. Looks at me for confirmation.
I nod.
"Do it."
Theo initiates the live stream with a single tap.
Numbers start popping up immediately on the screen like fireworks.
Viewers joining. Not thousands like we had before the lawsuit.
Not the tens of thousands we had at our peak when every video went viral.
But loyal numbers. Real numbers. People who stayed through the darkness.
People who believed me when everyone else called me a liar.
People who waited patiently for me to come back.
100 viewers. 200. 350. 500. 725. Still climbing steadily like a heartbeat.
The comments section explodes with activity almost instantly, messages flying by so fast I can barely read them all.
"REVERIE!!!"
"OMG YOU'RE BACK!!!"
"WE MISSED YOU SO MUCH!!!"
"CONGRATS ON THE COURT WIN!!!"
"YOU DID IT!!!"
"WE KNEW YOU WERE TELLING THE TRUTH!!!"
"YOUR ALPHAS ARE SO HOT!!!"
"WAIT IS THAT A PUPPY?!?!"
"DID YOU GET A DOG?!?!"
"WHAT'S THE PUPPY'S NAME?!?!"
"YOU GUYS ARE IN OAKRIDGE!!!"
"THE TREE IS BEAUTIFUL!!!"
"I'M CRYING!!!"
"THIS IS SO PERFECT!!!"
"MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!"
"WE LOVE YOU!!!"
My eyes well up with tears reading the comments flooding in faster and faster.
These people stuck with me. Through everything. Through the lies and the harassment and the defamation and the death threats and the doxxing attempts.
They stayed.
They believed.
They defended me.
They waited.
They never gave up on me.
They're my real community.
"Hey everyone!" I say to the camera, waving enthusiastically with my free hand.
"Merry almost Christmas! We're here in Oakridge at the incredible town Christmas tree because at midnight—" I check my phone quickly.
11:54 PM. "In six minutes, something really special happens that we've been planning for weeks! "
Biscuit barks on perfect cue, jumping up and trying desperately to get into frame, his little paws scrabbling.