Epilogue
Lainey, six months later
“Why did the picture go to jail, Saw-yur?”
A pause.
Then Sawyer’s rumbling voice reaches my ears. “Why?”
“He was framed!” Ollie exclaims.
Sawyer chuckles. “That’s a good one,” he says. “But remember we were going to hang out in the kitchen so your mom can work.”
“Does your neck hurt?” Ollie asks, his voice fading as Sawyer no doubt leads him back down the hall.
“A little. How do you know?”
“You’re rubbing it. Should I get Mr. Cricket?”
“That would be awesome, thanks, bud.”
Grinning, I type my favorite two words:
The End
Then sigh and stretch and spin toward the windows that take up most of the wall behind my desk. We opted to install shutters throughout the house, each of the windows getting the bright white coverings that can be left open enough to provide light and sunshine, but angled so no one can look in.
Not that anyone’s going to get close enough for that, what with the beefed-up security system Sawyer and I decided on…the same day he moved in.
He wasn’t the only one moving.
Nancy…well, there were a few hiccups—backtracking and old behaviors creeping in, tangling with both her and Sawyer trying to figure out a new normal—but eventually she decided to relocate to a senior living community.
It’s in town, and she still lives alone, but there are helpers employed by the community along with an on-site handyman.
Plus, if she ever needs more help, there are step-ups for higher levels of care.
So far it’s been good.
No.
It’s been great.
The situation with Jonah, less so. It’s been months of back and forth with lawyers and prosecutors and Detective Roberts and police departments from other states…and while Jonah won’t be going to prison for the rest of his life, it looks like he’ll be in custody for the foreseeable future.
I hope he gets the help he needs.
Still, I’ve also put in some time with a local Krav Maga class—not just on the slim chance that he may get out, but because I want to be able to protect myself.
But I saw Jonah’s mugshot.
I took care of myself pretty damned well before Sawyer and the guys got there to help.
A team effort.
Grinning, I save my document, upload it to the cloud and email it to myself (because I'm not losing a word of this). My gaze drifts around my office, taking in the collection of musical playbills pinned to my bulletin board. They’ve grown over the last six months—Rent, then Hamilton and & Juliet, and most recently, Six.
All amazing. And all with Sawyer at my side, his head bopping along to the music.
Building memories.
Building our future.
Something I intend to focus on today as I reach into the bottom drawer of my desk and pull out the package that came yesterday.
It’s so pretty—especially with the hot Viking hunk on the front cover.
Getting up, I take it and my Just-Completed-The-Second-Book-That-Shall-Not-Be-Written booty out of my office and into the front room.
Sawyer and Ollie are making a mess in the kitchen.
“What are we cooking?” I ask softly.
The looks my boys give me.
Oh, my heart can’t take it.
Or maybe it’s that it can take it. Because it grows a little more every time I remember how much I love my family.
“Banana bread!” Ollie bellows, throwing his hands up and sending batter splattering onto the floor. And cabinets. And counter.
Sawyer swipes it up without missing a beat. “Olls was thinking he might want it for his birthday cake, so we’re experimenting.”
“Faye gave you the recipe?” I ask, more than a little surprised.
Oh, she’ll bake the bread.
But that recipe is under lock and key.
Sawyer’s eyes dance. “She gave us her second-best recipe.”
I giggle.
His gaze drifts down to the book in my hand. “Is that what I think it is?”
I just nod, ask softly, “Want to be my first ARC reader?”
His whole face lights up. “Really?”
“Really, really.”
Soft blue eyes as he wipes his hands on a towel. “I’ll finish up with the banana bread—”
“No,” I say softly. “You’ll read.” Brushing my lips over his, I steal the towel and shove the book in his hands. “Find a cozy place and get lost in the world of The Book That Shall Not Be Written.”
“I love you,” he murmurs.
“Back at ya, Cupcake.” I peck him on the lips then nudge him from the room. I turn to Ollie. “Should we get the banana bread in the oven?”
“Banana bread!” he hollers again, though thankfully this time without the side of batter splatter.
Heh.
Grinning, I ruffle his hair and then we work together to get the batter in the pan and the pan in the oven.
“Don’t forget to set the timer,” he commands as I shut the door.
“On it, goofy goober.”
“I’m gonna go play trucks,” he says once I’ve programmed in the time.
“Sounds like a plan.”
He clambers down from the chair he was standing on and runs toward the hall. Then skids to a halt and looks back at me. “When are we going to give Sawyer his present?”
I kind of miss the days of Saw-yur.
But my kiddo is growing up, getting big and saying his yers.
“In a little while,” I say. “So he can have time to read.”
A brusque nod. “Got it, Mom.”
And I’m grinning again as he races off. But I do that a lot nowadays. Smile. Real ones. Not white-knuckling one in order to pretend I’m fine, that my life is great and Ollie has a happy mom.
My life is great.
And I am happy.
It’s because of Sawyer. But it’s also Ollie and Faye, Gray and Ryan and the rest of the guys. It’s Veronica and Harper and Kailey and Luna. It’s the kids running around together and the team barbecues and all. The. Freaking. Hockey.
I’m well-versed in it now, know all about the rules of icing and offsides. I can even tell someone the difference between slashing and cross-checking and charging.
(I know because Smitty tested me on it all just the other day.)
I slip back into my office and plod through some emails, only pausing to pull out the banana bread and check in on Ollie.
We play trains and prep dinner. And it’s just as I’m setting Sawyer’s present on the counter that the man himself makes an appearance.
“Something smells good,” he says, coming in and brushing his mouth over mine.
“It’s stir fry and banana bread.”
“A weird scent combo that teases the senses.”
I giggle, jerk my chin toward the table. “Sit down, handsome. Grub’s ready.”
He scoops up Ollie and turns.
Then freezes, clearly spotting the cheerfully printed bag sitting in the middle of the table. “What’s that? It’s not my birthday yet.”
That’s a few weeks away.
“But it is your birthday month,” I say.
And my man is going to be spoiled.
“Just a little something,” I say. “Ollie and I picked it out together.”
“Open it, Sawyer!” Ollie commands.
Sawyer laughs softly but dutifully pulls out the tissue…then the stuffed cow.
It’s grumpily adorable.
And his name is—
“Sawyer!” Ollie says, taking it from his namesake and making the grumpy cow dance around the table. “Meet Sawyer!”
“I couldn’t resist,” I say as Ollie has the cow kiss his way up Sawyer’s chest.
Who snags the cow, points his grumpy face in my direction. “Because we’re both so grumpy?”
I grin. “Exactly.”
“Rude.” He tugs at a curl, smiles. “Thanks, Pages.”
“Do you like it, Dad?”
Sawyer and I both go absolutely still, our eyes locking, a thousand emotions crossing between us.
That’s the first time Ollie—
My throat goes tight, but before I can summon the right thing to say, Sawyer does it effortlessly, turning to Ollie and saying, “I love it, bud.”
“Yay!” He plucks up a carrot, shoves it in his mouth. “Then all my Ollies and Holly and Sawyer can be friends.” He grins toothily. “Just like us.”
More emotions.
More love.
More…carrots.
It’s as we’re cleaning up and Ollie’s picking out his books for bedtime that Sawyer comes up behind me, wrapping an arm around me and drawing me back against his chest as he says, “So you think I’m a gorgeous, devoted Viking with silky blond hair and a body built for sin, huh?”
My cheeks go hot, but I just lean back against him. “Maybe,” I tease. Then spin in the circle of his arms. “So, what’d you think?”
He cups my jaw. “It’s really good, Pages. I didn’t want to put it down.”
“Does that mean you didn’t make it to the end yet?”
A shake of his head. “We all can’t read as quickly as you and Faye.”
“Maybe not. But”—I reach for the book he set on the island when he came in—“you didn’t even peek at the ending?”
“I’m outraged you even spoke those words aloud.”
Laughter in my chest as he snatches it back and holds it to his chest. “No spoilers allowed.” He sets it back on the counter—
And…I make my move.
Down onto one knee.
He turns back and the look on his face would almost be comical if not for the way my heart is pounding.
“I told myself I would never risk my heart again, that I’d never again chance getting lost in a marriage, in a man.” I inhale deeply as emotions clog my throat, then slowly exhale and say, “Then I met you. From that first night I knew you were different, and it scared me.”
“Pages,” he murmurs.
I take his hands in mine. “Then I got to know you, the man you are, the person you strive to be…and the fear went away. Because I love you, Sawyer Hill. Love you enough to fall head over heels, to drop the shields around my heart, to trust that you’ll always be my partner and not just another responsibility I have to carry. So, I wanted to ask if you’ll ma—”
“Yes,” he says, dropping to his knees and cupping my face in his hands.
My eyes are burning but there’s more laughter in my chest. “I didn’t even finish the question, handsome.”
“You don’t need to, Pages. I’m yours—forever and always and all those times in between. Same as you’re mine. We’re a team. A family. So, fuck yeah, I’d be honored to marry you.”
Then he’s kissing me.
And then Ollie’s running back down the hall and barreling into the kitchen. “Did you ask him? Did you ask him?”
“Yeah,” Sawyer says, “she did.”
I grin because I hadn’t and yet…close enough.
“What do you think, bud?” he asks. “Are you good if we become a family officially?”
Ollie nods. “Smitty says we’re already a family. Everything else is just paperwork.”
Our gazes lock again.
Then we both laugh.