Epilogue 3-Bit
Five Years Later
People still laugh when I tell them there are cowboys in New Jersey.
“Oh sure,” they'll say. “Like on television?”
Nope.
Better.
Real ones.
The kind with rough hands, dirty boots, stubborn streaks a mile wide, and hearts so soft for their families they'd move heaven and earth to keep them safe.
I smile as I lean against Sawyer's side, his arm automatically settling around my waist.
Ir’s been five years since Micah and Sloane got together. Since Benji and Esme reunited.
Six whole years since I wandered onto Jersey Iron Ranch looking for a place to hide.
And I’ve never been happier.
It’s funny how life works, isn’t it?
Sometimes the place you hide ends up becoming the place you finally belong.
The ranch has changed.
Expanded.
More acreage.
More barns.
More champion bulls than any of us imagined when Sawyer first bought this place.
Jersey Iron genetics now ship all over the country.
People know our name.
Respect it.
Compete to buy our stock.
The magazines call us innovators.
Industry leaders.
Pioneers.
Sawyer pretends he doesn't read the articles.
Liar.
I catch him clipping every single one.
Benji's become the face of the breeding program.
Nobody understands bloodlines quite like he does.
Micah somehow manages to run ranch security, consult for half the Fortune 500, and still make it home every night for dinner with Sloane.
Honestly?
I quit trying to figure out how that man's brain works years ago.
The three of them stand together now near the fence line, coffee mugs in hand.
Surveying the property like the lords of the ranch they are.
Sawyer says something.
Benji laughs.
Micah shakes his head like they're both idiots.
Some things never change.
Thank goodness.
A shriek of laughter cuts through the afternoon.
I turn toward the sound just in time to see one little redheaded tornado tear across the yard with another two chasing after her.
“There they go!” Esme laughs.
“Again,” Sloane adds.
Neither of them sounds remotely concerned.
They're used to it.
Honestly...
So am I.
Kids are everywhere.
Absolutely everywhere.
Half a dozen of them at least.
Maybe more.
After a while you stop counting.
One is trying to convince Alex to let him drive the ATV.
Poor Alex.
He's still hopelessly outnumbered by women and children.
Another little girl with fiery red curls has somehow convinced Diego to push her on the tire swing higher.
Angie keeps pretending to scold him.
Then secretly tells him to push harder.
My little blond boy comes barreling toward Sawyer, waving a frog like he'd discovered buried treasure.
“Daddy! Daddy! Look!”
Sawyer crouches without hesitation.
“Well now.”
He studies the frog with complete seriousness.
“That's a fine-looking frog you got there, champ.”
I laugh.
The same man who once terrified grown men without speaking now spends twenty minutes discussing amphibians with a five-year-old.
Love changes people.
Not who they are.
It just changes what matters.
Sloane appears carrying a tray piled high with fresh cornbread.
Her restaurant has become the place to eat within fifty miles. Folks drive in just for her brisket.
She swears the secret is patience. Micah says it's because everything she makes tastes like love.
He's probably right.
She catches his eye from across the yard.
They don't say a word.
They don't have to.
He smiles.
She smiles back.
It's enough.
Benji walks over to his wife, slips an arm around Esme’s waist as she laughs at something one of the kids says.
Sawyer’s already made his way to me, and he kisses the top of my head absentmindedly while reaching for another cup of joe.
And Micah quietly takes the heavy tray from Sloane before she can even ask.
She rolls her eyes.
But she lets him take it.
Then she slips her hand into his back pocket and walks beside him.
It’s just like breathing.
Natural.
Easy.
Forever.
Looking around, I realize something.
Jersey Iron Ranch isn't special because we raise champion seed bulls.
Sure.
That's what people come here for.
The genetics.
The breeding program.
The tech.
The business.
But that's not why they remember us.
They remember us because this place grows something a whole lot rarer.
Family.
Found family.
Second chances.
People who choose each other every single day.
That's the real legacy being built here.
Not measured in ribbons.
Or trophies.
Or bank accounts.
It’s measured in laughter echoing across open fields.
In children racing through the grass without a care in the world.
In women who've become sisters.
In three rough-edged cowboys standing shoulder to shoulder, watching over everything they've built.
Their ranch.
Their families.
Their future.
Sawyer catches me looking.
“What?”
I smile.
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
I laugh.
“I was just thinking.”
“About?”
I look across the pasture one more time.
The children.
The couples.
The home we'd all built together.
“I think...”
Emotion catches unexpectedly in my throat.
“I think we got our happily ever after.”
Sawyer pulls me closer and kisses my temple.
“Nah, Lil Bit.”
He smiles out at the ranch.
“We're still writing it.”
And somehow...
I know he's right.
The End…
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