Epilogue Kara
One Year Later
Snow drifts thick and slow outside the window. Flakes catch in the glow of the Christmas lights I strung along the porch. The cabin smells like pine, cinnamon, and Rustin… it’s warm and steady.
A year ago, this cabin felt like a hiding place. Now it feels like home.
Dad's campaign survived the scandal. We aren’t exactly back to normal and maybe that’s a good thing.
He called last week to ask whether or not I was happy.
Then made a point to say that logging is a respectable business.
Of course, he still won't say my name in public, but that feels like a small price to pay in exchange for my life back.
Then there’s Mom who pretends the almost-wedding never happened at all.
She’s getting to know Rustin and I'm learning to let that be enough.
My parents and I are working toward progress, not perfection.
On the other hand, Kendall and I have never been closer.
She visits every month and can be counted on to bring wine and gossip. What more could I ask for in a sister?
Now Rustin leans against the cabin’s doorway while I pull some of my childhood decorations from the bin labeled Christmas. I can feel his eyes on me and it makes butterflies jump in my stomach.
"You're supposed to be helping.” I bite back a smile and reach for the next ornament.
"I am helping. Supervising counts. In fact, I better get a closer look.” He wraps his arms around me from behind and slides his hands up the inside of my shirt.
“What do you think?” I hold up the massive, pink, ridiculous bow.
His words are a growl. "I love it.”
The words melt me faster than the fire crackling behind us. His hands pull a ripple of goosebumps across my skin as I tie my bow onto the top of the wreath. I hold it up. It’s perfectly symmetrical and dripping in glittering ornaments.
Rustin takes the wreath from me and hangs it without any pomp and circumstance. Then he turns to face me. I tilt my chin up and kiss him softly. But Rustin never does anything halfway.
His tongue parts my lips and our kiss deepens. It’s slow and hungry. When his hands run down my curves I arch into him with a soft moan.
"Bed," he says against my mouth. "Now."
"The Christmas decorating—"
"Will still be there when I'm done making you scream my name."
Rustin carries me to our room. He worships me for the next hour, while I grip the headboard and forget my own name. I fall asleep with his lips against my hair, and his arms wrapped around my body.
My heart beats in time with his. I was always meant to find my way back to Rustin and he was always going to open the door.