Epilogue #3
Finn jogs back from the water, dripping wet and grinning like a kid, and flops down beside us, spraying water everywhere. "Group hug?"
"You're soaking," Adrian says with exaggerated annoyance.
"Exactly. Group hug. Get over here." Finn wraps his arms around all of us, pulling us into a chaotic, wet, tangled embrace that shouldn't work but somehow does.
I laugh. Really laugh, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep and genuine. The sound carries over the ocean, mixing with the crash of waves.
"There it is," Lachlan murmurs, his thumb brushing across my knuckles. "That's what I wanted to hear. Your real laugh."
We stay like this for a while, tangled together in the sand like we can't bear to have space between us. When Finn eventually pulls back, he shakes water everywhere like a dog, making Adrian curse and Jonas laugh.
"I'm making s'mores," Finn announces suddenly, jumping to his feet.
"We don't have supplies," Adrian points out logically.
"I came prepared." Finn produces a bag from seemingly nowhere, pulling out marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers with a magician's flourish. "Never underestimate me. I'm always thinking ahead."
Jonas laughs, bright and surprised. "Apparently."
Finn builds a small fire in the designated fire pit while Adrian supervises with thinly veiled amusement, occasionally offering unhelpful commentary that makes Finn throw sand at him. Lachlan stays close to me, his presence steady and grounding, his hand tracing absent patterns on my back.
"You really okay?" he asks quietly, just for me.
I nod, meaning it this time. "Yeah. I really am."
"Good." He kisses my temple, lingering for a moment. "Because you deserve to be. You deserve every good thing."
We roast marshmallows as the sky darkens and stars begin to appear.
Finn burns his immediately and declares it, "Perfect.
That's the only way to eat them." Jonas makes his with meticulous care, achieving perfect golden-brown uniformity.
Adrian refuses to participate at first until I hand him a stick with a pleading look, and then he makes one for me instead, careful and precise.
Lachlan feeds me bites of his s'more, wiping chocolate from the corner of my mouth with his thumb.
I glance down at my feet buried in the warm sand, and the blue glitter polish catches the firelight—Finn's gift, my choice, a small rebellion that means everything. This. This moment. This is everything.
I used to think I was living. I woke every morning. Completed my tasks. Trained. Performed. I had mistaken the absence of crisis for contentment, obedience for peace, functioning for being alive.
I hadn't known I was asleep.
Six months ago, I thought I'd lost everything.
I didn't know I was finding my way home.
I didn't know that awakening wasn't a single moment but something ongoing—noticing when old fear makes me disappear into automatic habits, and choosing to return to myself.
Noticing the warmth of coffee in my hands.
Hearing Finn laugh. Choosing what I want before asking whether I'm allowed to want it.
I'm still healing. I probably always will be. That's what trauma does—it leaves marks that fade but never fully disappear. But I'm not sleepwalking anymore. I'm here. Present. Conscious. Awake.
And I'm not alone. Not anymore. Not ever again.
This. This moment. This is everything.
I look around at them, at Finn's chaotic joy as he tries to roast three marshmallows at once, at Jonas's quiet contentment as he leans against a piece of driftwood, at Lachlan's steady presence beside me, at Adrian's careful attention as he makes sure I'm warm enough.
This is home. Not the house. Not the beach with its endless horizon. Them. These four people who chose me, who keep choosing me, who made space in their lives and hearts and wouldn't let me run even when I tried.
And I know exactly who I am now.
I'm not broken. Not damaged. Not the girl who wasn't enough for her own parents.
I was efficient—I escaped and saved myself.
I was controlled—I seized control of my own destiny instead of letting them control it.
I was practical—I chose my safety and my life over their expectations.
Those words my father used as weapons? I've reclaimed them as proof of my strength.
I'm Kaia. I'm theirs. I'm home.
"I love you," I say again, needing them to hear it. "All of you. More than I knew it was possible to love anyone."
"We love you too," Jonas says softly.
"So much," Finn adds, abandoning his marshmallows to throw an arm around my shoulders.
"Forever," Lachlan murmurs, his lips against my hair.
Adrian's hand finds the back of my neck, warm and grounding. "You're ours," he says, his voice low and certain. "And we're yours. That's not changing. Not ever."
I lean into him. Into all of them. Surrounded by love and warmth and safety.
The ocean continues its eternal rhythm. The fire crackles. Stars multiply overhead in the darkening sky. And for the first time in my life, I'm not afraid of tomorrow. Because whatever comes, I won't face it alone.