Epilogue
Wilder
The cemetery is quiet this morning.
Cold, gray light stretches across the rows of headstones, the air carrying that damp, earthy smell that always reminds me of early mornings on the coast. The kind of mornings when the world hasn’t fully woken up yet. When everything feels still.
I stand in front of Johnny’s grave, hands shoved deep into the pockets of my coat, staring down at the simple headstone.
Johnny Tulane.
It still feels wrong that those two words are all that’s left of him.
“Hey, brother.” My voice sounds rough in the silence. “I’m late this week. Got busy.”
A faint breeze moves through the trees, rustling the branches overhead. I shift my weight, exhaling slowly.
Wilder Harbor House has been growing faster than I ever expected. More donations. More volunteers. More men coming through the doors looking for a second chance. Some broken. Some angry. Some too numb to even care yet.
I understand all of them.
“I expanded the program,” I tell him. “We’ve got job placements now. Counseling. A partnership with a construction company. A few of the guys are working full time already.”
Pride tightens my chest. It still surprises me sometimes. That this is my life now. That I wake up every morning with purpose instead of rage.
“That was your idea, by the way,” I add. “You always said what people need most is dignity.” I huff out a quiet laugh. “You were right. As usual.”
My gaze drifts over the headstone.
“You’d like Millie.” The corner of my mouth lifts. “She’s doing good. Really good. She’s working for a jeweler in town now. Started a few months ago. She’s studying too. Got her gemology certificate. Says she wants to design her own pieces one day.”
I picture her at the kitchen table, books spread everywhere, tongue caught between her teeth while she concentrates. The memory softens something deep inside me.
“She’s brilliant,” I murmur. “You would’ve told me not to screw that up.” The truth settles heavy in my chest. “I almost did.”
I shake my head. “But she didn’t let me.”
Silence stretches. I glance down at my hands, then pull one free from my pocket. The small velvet box rests in my palm, dark and unassuming. The weight of it feels heavier than it should.
I went to a dozen shops before I found it.
Felt like a fool, a man my size hunched over glass cases for hours.
But it had to be right. She spends her days making beautiful things for other people—stringing them, setting them, sending them off to strangers.
For once, somebody’s going to put something beautiful on her. It had to be perfect. I think it is.
“I’m going to ask her to marry me.” The words echo in the quiet, a strange mix of nerves and anticipation coiling low in my gut.
“I wanted to tell you first.”
Because he’s the reason I’m here. The reason I didn’t rot in that cell. The reason I learned how to hope again.
“You saved my life,” I say simply. “You saw something in me when no one else did. Even when I didn’t see it myself.”
Emotion tightens my throat. I swallow hard.
“You told me that if I ever got out, I should build something. Something that mattered. Something bigger than my anger.”
My gaze lifts to the horizon beyond the cemetery. “I did that. I’m still doing it.” The breeze picks up, colder now. “And I found her.”
My Millie.
The girl who walked into my life like sunshine breaking through a storm.
“She’s everything,” I admit. “She’s…peace. She’s fire. She’s home.”
I let out a slow breath.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve her. But I’m not letting her go.”
I crouch, setting the velvet box gently against the base of the headstone for a moment.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
For the first time in a long time, the past doesn’t feel like a chain around my neck. It feels like a road behind me. A road that led me here.
After a moment, I pick up the box and tuck it back into my pocket.
“I’ll bring her next time,” I say, standing. “If she says yes, that is.” A small smile pulls at my mouth. “You’d probably call me a chicken for that.”
I turn and walk back down the path, the anxiety in my chest growing heavier with every step.
***
Millie
I scrunch my nose absentmindedly as the faint, familiar scent of burning food teases my senses. And then it suddenly hits me—
“Shoot! My sauce!”
I rush to the stove, grabbing the wooden spoon and stirring like that will somehow undo the damage. The tomato sauce has gone darker than it should, sticking to the bottom of the pot. My heart is beating too fast, my hands shaking so badly I almost drop the spoon.
I turn the heat down, take a deep breath.
Okay. Calm down.
It’s just dinner. Just Wilder. Just the man I live with. The man I sleep beside every night. The man who makes me feel safe in ways I didn’t know were possible.
The man who might freak out when he hears what I have to tell him.
My stomach does a violent flip.
I press a hand to my belly, the gesture still strange and new, terrifying and wonderful all at once.
“I can do this,” I whisper to myself.
The apartment smells warm and comforting—garlic, herbs, fresh bread, and burned sauce. I spent the entire afternoon cleaning even though it was already clean. I set the table twice. Changed my dress three times. Checked the test again even though I know what it says.
Pregnant.
The word makes my chest feel tight. My eyes sting as I glance toward the test strip laying precariously on the edge of the dining table.
In a not-so-distant past, I never dared to dream about this—about having a baby. But here I am…
The sound of the front door opening makes me jump, my pulse spiking.
Wilder steps inside, closing the door behind him. His eyes find me immediately like they always do, and something in my chest softens even as nerves tighten around it.
He looks…off. Tense. Distracted. Like his mind is somewhere else. Fear slides coldly down my spine as a million thoughts invade my mind all at once.
Oh God. This is it.
He’s tired of me.
He’s going to tell me I need to leave.
I force a smile. “Hey.”
“Hey, baby girl.”
His voice is warm, but there’s something else simmering underneath it. He walks over and kisses my forehead, lingering for a second longer than usual. His hand slides to my waist, holding me there like he needs the contact.
That makes my heart pound even harder.
Guilt? Regret?
We move through the motions. He washes his hands. I plate the food, and we sit to eat.
The silence is unbearable.
Normally, dinner is my favorite part of the evening. We talk. We laugh. We share every stupid little detail about our day. But tonight, the quiet stretches, heavy and awkward.
He clears his throat.
I grip my fork tighter.
He opens his mouth. So do I. The words explode out of both of us at the same time.
“Will you marry me—”
“I’m pregnant.”
We both go still, and the world seems to freeze in that moment. We stare at each other.
His eyes widen. Mine probably do too. My heart is thudding so hard I can hear it in my ears.
“What?” he says.
“What?” I echo.
Silence.
Then he lets out a breath, dragging a hand down his face. “You…you first.”
My throat feels dry. “No, you—”
“Millie,” he cuts in, his voice gentle but firm. “Tell me.”
I swallow, my fingers twisting in my lap. “I found out a few days ago. I took three tests because I thought the first one had to be wrong. But they were all the same.”
I keep my gaze steady despite my shaking voice.
“I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know if you’d…if you’d think it was too soon. Or if you’d feel trapped. Or—” I can’t finish. Tears blur my vision. “I’m sorry. I should’ve said something earlier, but I was scared.”
His chair scrapes loudly against the floor, and before I can react, Wilder is in front of me, dropping to his knees. My breath catches as he gently cradles my face in his hands.
“Hey. Look at me.”
I do. His eyes are bright and fierce, warm emotions swirling in their depths.
“Are you happy?”
The question surprises me.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I’m terrified, but…yes, I’m happy.”
Something breaks open in his expression.
A wide, disbelieving smile spreads across his face. “Then that’s all that matters.”
Relief hits me so hard my shoulders sag.
“You’re not…upset?”
“Upset?” He lets out a short laugh. “Millie, I’m—” His voice roughens. “I’m the happiest man alive right now.”
My chest squeezes painfully.
“Really?”
“Really.” He presses his forehead to mine. “You’re carrying my child. Our family. I never imagined I’d ever get something like this.”
Tears spill down my cheeks.
I laugh through them. “Okay. Good. Because if you’d reacted badly, I might’ve stabbed you with that fork.”
He huffs a quiet laugh, then his expression becomes serious, his eyes boring intently into mine.
“Now…you.” My breath hitches. “You were serious?”
He leans back slightly, reaching into his pocket, and brings out a small velvet box.
My heart literally stops and picks up again at an impossible rate. He opens the box. The ring catches the light, delicate and beautiful and perfect. My hand flies to my mouth.
“Millie,” he says, voice low and steady. “Will you marry me?”
Emotion crashes over me so hard I can barely breathe.
“Yes.” The word bursts out of me, my heart bubbling with an overflow of happiness. “Yes, Wilder. Of course, yes.”
His shoulders drop in relief, and then he pulls the ring out, slides it onto my finger with hands that are not as steady as he’d probably like. It fits perfectly.
I lean up on my tiptoes and kiss him slowly.
Wilder wraps his hands around my waist, and before I can say anything, he sweeps me off my feet and carries me into our bedroom where he peels off my clothes and then his.
He pushes me gently to the bed, then steps back, and I watch, first with curiosity then surprise as he lifts the standing mirror from its place by the door and carries it to the other side of the mattress.
He sets it against the wall so that I’m staring at my reflection.
Then he steps around the bed and comes up behind me.
“W-what are you doing?” I ask, my mouth going dry as I stare at our naked reflections in the mirror. There’s something so sinfully erotic about it that it sets my heart thrumming with anticipation.
“Watching you watch me fuck you,” Wilder says, his mouth twisted in a devilish smile.
He threads his fingers through my hair, turning my head so he can capture my mouth with his. His cock presses between my thighs, nudging my pussy lips from behind as his other arm grips my waist. His tongue invades my mouth, his teeth nipping and tugging.
“Oh, Daddy,” I moan softly, my body arching into his touch. “Fuck me. Please.”
“You got it, baby girl,” he says, the mattress dipping as he climbs up behind me.
I crawl onto all fours, my gaze locked on the reflection of him sliding into me.
He bites down on his lower lip, his forehead crinkling in pleasure.
I moan as he pushes into me, stretching me.
He grabs my hips, holding me in place as he pulls me onto his lap.
Then he locks his gaze onto mine in the mirror and starts to guide my hips up and down, making me ride him while he thrusts into me.
The pleasure is unbearable, and I can barely breathe. As if that’s not enough, he slides his mouth over the sensitive spot behind my ear, slowly raking his teeth over it. Pleasure shoots up my spine in immeasurable waves.
My body buckles, straining to get away and get closer all at once.
“Look at the mirror, baby girl,” he says, thrusting deep and hard into me. “Watch how beautiful we are when we fuck.”
The sight of him in the mirror, coupled with the sensation of him moving inside me, sends a wave of pressure barreling over me.
“Like what you see?”
“Yes—yes, Daddy.”
Wilder reaches down, his fingers sliding between my thighs. His thumb strokes over my clit, and my vision blurs from an overdose of pleasure. He swirls his tongue around the side of my neck, matching the strokes of his fingers on my clit and his cock in my pussy.
“Daddddyyy!” I scream, my muscles vibrating uncontrollably as my orgasm crashes through me.
“That’s it, baby girl. Come for me. Look how gorgeous you are when you come,” Wilder says, his other hand gliding up to my chin to angle my head toward the mirror.
He fucks me harder, throwing his head back in reckless abandon. Pressure builds up again in my core, and I can feel the wave of another climax.
“Come with me, Daddy.” I say breathlessly, rocking my hips in rhythm to his strokes. “Please…”
He slides out of me and flips me over so we’re face to face, then he slams back into me.
I cry out his name, pleasure climbing higher and higher, until it’s almost too much.
“I love you, baby girl,” Wilder murmurs gruffly, pounding even harder. Faster. “I love you so much!”
I can’t answer, my mind too muddled by the sensations buzzing through my veins. He keeps slamming into me until my orgasm explodes.
“Daddyyyyyy!”
“Fuck, Millie!” Wilder growls, his shoulders bunched, abs flexing as his strokes become wild and frenzied. And with one last thrust, his cum spills inside me, hot and sharp.
And after the last bit of pleasure racks our bodies, Wilder’s lips capture mine in a surprisingly gentle kiss. Then he rolls off me and tucks me against his heaving chest.
For a long while, neither of us speaks. His heartbeat slows beneath my ear, his fingers tracing lazy lines down my spine. The ring sits new and unfamiliar on my hand where it rests against his chest, catching the low light every time I move.
His palm drifts down to splay over my stomach—gentle, reverent, like he’s already guarding what’s there.
“A wife,” he murmurs, wonder in his voice. “A baby. A year ago I had a building full of strangers and a grave to talk to.”
I tip my head back to look at him. “And now?”
“Now, I’ve got everything.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “You gave me everything, baby girl.”
I close my eyes and let myself believe it—really believe it. That I’m wanted. That I’m staying. That for the first time in my life, I’m exactly where I belong.
Home.
~The End