Chapter Twenty-Six Epilogue
Three Months Later
Laney
The morning of my wedding dawns clear and bright, the kind of perfect June day that makes you believe the universe is conspiring in your favor.
I wake to sunlight streaming through the cabin windows and the sound of organized chaos drifting in from outside.
Brokka’s mate Marissa is orchestrating the setup crew with the efficiency of a military general.
The scent of coffee and fresh flowers drifts into my room, mixing with the familiar animal sounds that have become the soundtrack of my life.
Boots curls in his usual spot at the foot of my bed, stretches and yawns, his black and white fur catching the morning light. He’s our cat now, officially.
The memory of Mrs. DeVrayne’s phone call last week still warms my heart.
“Laney, dear, I need to talk to you about Boots.”
My stomach had dropped. “Is everything okay? Is he sick?”
“Oh no, nothing like that. He was living with what I thought was a lovely family, but they contacted me and said he didn’t get along with their new puppy, and—”
“They asked if they could return him,” I finished her sentence for her.
“I remembered that he was sleeping on your pillow when I arrived to pick him up and wondered if…”
I almost instantly offered to take him, but that would have been the single me. Now that I was almost married, it became a joint decision.
A few hours later, when I spoke with Ryder, he chided me for not accepting her offer immediately. “You know he was my favorite.” And a few hours after that, the cat was sleeping in our bed.
“Morning, handsome boy,” I murmur, scratching under his chin. “Big day today. Your mom and dad are getting married.”
He purrs, completely unconcerned that I’m about to marry the love of my life in a few hours.
A knock at the door precedes Georgia’s arrival, carrying a tray laden with coffee, fruit, and what looks suspiciously like homemade scones.
“Good morning, bride!” She sets the tray on my bedside table and pulls me into a hug. “Your father sent me up here to make sure you eat something. He’s a little teary this morning, but they’re happy tears.”
Through the window, I can see the meadow transformation in progress.
White chairs arranged in neat rows, an archway woven with wildflowers and greenery, tables set up for the reception.
Brokka and his crew have been here since dawn, setting up the massive grills for what he promises will be “the best wedding feast the mountains have ever seen.”
“Emma–she’s married to Kam, right–and Nadira are champing at the bit to help you get ready,” Georgia says. “They’ve been arguing about hair strategy for twenty minutes.”
I laugh. “Tell them I’ll be out in fifteen minutes. And Georgia? Thank you. For everything.”
Her eyes mist. “Oh, honey. You were always part of this family. We just had to wait a while to meet you.”
It doesn’t take me long to face the getting-ready chaos outside my bedroom door. It’s exactly what I need to quiet my nerves.
Nadira wields the curling iron with alarming confidence. “Trust me, Laney. Volume. This is your wedding day—go big or go home.”
“She’s already home,” Emma points out, carefully applying mascara. “Natural beauty is perfectly fine.”
“Natural beauty enhanced by strategic product application,” Nadira counters.
I catch Georgia’s eye in the mirror, and we both suppress smiles.
An hour later, I’m staring at my reflection. The dress is simple—ivory lace over silk, with sleeves that fall off my shoulders. Nadira’s given me soft waves. Emma’s makeup is natural but luminous.
“Ryder’s going to lose his mind when he sees you,” Emma says.
A soft knock, then Dad’s voice: “Can I come in?”
“Yes.”
He appears in the doorway, wearing a suit I’ve never seen before, looking handsome and distinguished. When he sees me, his eyes immediately shine with emotion.
“Oh, Sunshine,” he whispers, voice breaking.
Emma diplomatically ushers Nadira out, giving us privacy.
We stand here for a moment, both feeling more emotion than words can express as we hold each other.
“Twenty years,” he finally manages. “I missed twenty years. But honey, being here today, getting to walk you down that aisle—” His voice catches. “This is everything.”
“I’m grateful too,” I tell him. “For all of it. Even the years we lost. Because they led us here.”
He takes a shaky breath, composing himself. “You ready, Sunshine?”
I take one last look in the mirror. My hair, my dress, my face—all ready. But deeper than that, my spirit is steady.
“What are we waiting for?” My voice wavers, but my heart is sure.
The hum of conversation fades to a hush as I take Dad’s arm, the scent of pine and wildflowers thick in the air. The walk down the aisle is surreal.
Everyone stands as Dad and I appear at the top of the meadow path. A simple acoustic guitar version of “At Last” drifts through the mountain air.
But I barely hear it. Because at the end of that aisle, under an archway bursting with wildflowers, Ryder is waiting.
He’s wearing a suit tailored specifically for his frame—dark gray that brings out the green of his skin. His hair is pulled back neatly, and his amber gaze is locked on me with an intensity that makes my knees weak.
As we get closer, I see the shine in his eyes, the way he draws a slow, steady breath like he’s fighting to keep it together. Kam, standing as best male, offers him a handkerchief. Ryder just shakes his head with a quiet laugh.
I guess I’m crying enough tears for both of us. Through the shimmer of tears, the meadow watercolor light, but I can still see Ryder’s giant form.
When the officiant asks, “Who gives this woman in marriage?” Dad’s voice wavers.
“I-I do.”
Just those two words, but they carry the weight of twenty years of waiting, of hoping, of never giving up on his daughter.
He kisses my cheek, then places my hand in Ryder’s.
Ryder’s hands dwarf mine, warm and solid and steady.
“Hi,” I whisper.
“Hi, Solarin,” he whispers back, and then we’re both grinning like idiots.
The ceremony passes in a blur of emotion. When it’s my turn to speak, I have to pause to collect myself.
“Ryder Stone, six months ago, I was convinced that love meant loss. You showed up at my cabin in the middle of a snowstorm and somehow convinced me that it was possible and that I was worth staying for.” My voice cracks.
“You didn’t just save my Christmas. You opened my world and showed me what it means to let people in, to build a family that isn’t just blood but choice—earned through showing up every day. ”
I gesture at the surrounding crowd—Zone family and human family, all gathered in this meadow.
“I choose you, Ryder. Today, tomorrow, always. I choose us.” My voice steadies on the word “us,” because it’s powerful and important and makes me so very happy.
Ryder’s voice is rough with emotion when he speaks.
“Laney, you’ve been my home since the moment I met you. Not a place, not a dream—you. You’re the calm after the call, the warmth after the fire. You’re the reason I finally stopped running.” He squeezes my hands, his gaze never leaving mine.
“You challenged me to be braver, to fight for what I wanted, to believe that an orc firefighter and a stubborn animal-lover could build something extraordinary together. And we are. One day at a time, one choice at a time.”
“You’re my safe haven, Laney. My Solarin—my light in every darkness. I choose you. Every single day, for the rest of our lives.”
The officiant clears her throat. “By the power vested in me by the state of California, I pronounce you married. Ryder, you may kiss your bride.”
And he does. Thoroughly. To the point where Kam starts whooping, and Jake yells, “Get a room!”
We’re married.
We walk back down the aisle together, hand in hand.
“Mrs. Hillman-Stone,” he says.
“Mr. Hillman-Stone,” I say.
“I like the sound of that.”
“Me too.”
What could be more exciting and fulfilling than that? The reception. It’s turning out to be everything I dreamed of and nothing I planned.
Brokka’s feast is legendary—mountains of barbecue, sides that could feed an army, and enough desserts to satisfy even the Zone contingent’s legendary appetites. Marissa’s cake is a work of art, five tiers decorated with edible wildflowers.
The toasts begin as the sun starts to set.
Dad goes first. He stands up, looks at me and Ryder, and his voice catches immediately.
“Twenty years,” he begins, then has to pause and clear his throat. “I waited twenty years to be part of my daughter’s life again. And now I get to watch her marry a male who—”
He stops, blinking rapidly, composing himself.
“A male who loves her the way she deserves.” He raises his glass, hand trembling slightly. “Ryder, welcome to our family, son.”
I cross to his table and hug him tight. “I love you too, Dad.”
Kam’s toast is full of terrible jokes that have everyone groaning, but he ends with surprising sincerity: “I’ve never seen this male happier than he is with you, Laney. That’s magic.”
Yara speaks in Orcish and then English, blessing our union. “To my new daughter. Welcome to the family. We’ve been waiting for you.”
As everyone is dancing, Emma pulls me aside near the dessert table.
“So,” she says with a knowing smile, “Ryder mentioned you made a decision about school. Wildlife rehabilitation instead of vet school?”
“Yeah.” I can’t help but smile. “It took me a while to realize it, but it’s actually perfect.
I can work with injured and orphaned wild animals, use all my medical knowledge, and do it right here from the cabin.
No four years of schooling, no crushing debt, no working in a clinic when what I really love is hands-on rehabilitation. ”
“That sounds amazing,” Emma says genuinely.
“It is. The certification process is rigorous but manageable—I can complete it while still working with animals here and living in the Zone. And honestly?” I glance over at Ryder, who’s dancing with Yara.
“This fits who I am so much better than vet school ever would have. I get to nurse injured hawks back to health, release them into the wild, and build the sanctuary with Ryder. It’s not giving up my dreams. It’s actually finding the right dream. ”
“You’re going to be incredible at it,” Emma says.
“I really think I will be.”
Marissa joins us, and the conversation quickly turns to Zone gossip, which I’m now addicted to.
My attention to my friends falters as Ryder approaches for another dance.
Damn, that male is gorgeous on his worst day when his sooty face has sweat rivulets and he needs to undo his braids to get the smell of smoke out.
But now? In that perfect gray tux, his eyes luminous with love and affection? It’s enough to make me swoon.
As we sway together to an acoustic version of “The Luckiest,” he murmurs, “Did you know Jake arranged this?”
“I had no idea.”
“He wanted to contribute. Said his big sister deserved the perfect dance.”
His big sister. The casual way he says it makes my heart squeeze.
Later, as dusk settles and string lights twinkle on, Ryder and I slip away to the cabin porch. Boots follows, claiming the porch swing between us.
“How long before someone notices we’re gone?” I ask.
“Kam will give us ten minutes.”
“Then we’d better make them count.”
Laughter drifts from the meadow, string lights glowing against the darkening sky as we sit wrapped in quiet contentment.
“Thank you,” Ryder says suddenly.
“For what?”
“For taking a chance on a quiet firefighter who gave you a nickname before he really knew you… although it fit perfectly. For building this life with me. For becoming my family.”
“Right back at you, husband.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“Me too.”
Tomorrow, we’ll start our brief “honeymoon,” which will consist of deciding where to build the first barracks on the property.
At some point, we’re going to have a refuge up here, and we’ll need volunteers.
Then we’ll get back to reality and start our real lives together: me working toward my wildlife rehabilitation certification, Ryder continuing his firefighting work, and both of us building Mountain Paws Sanctuary one day at a time.
“Hey, Ryder?”
“Yeah, Solarin?”
“I’m glad it snowed.”
He laughs, pulling me closer. “Me too. Best Christmas miracle I ever got.”
From the meadow, someone starts singing, and others join in.
“That’s Kam. Bet you didn’t know he has a beautiful voice and plays the guitar like a pro.”
“We should probably go back,” I say without moving.
“Probably,” Ryder agrees, also not moving.
Boots meows his agreement with staying put.
“Five more minutes,” I decide.
“Five more minutes.”
We sit together on the porch of the cabin where it all began, surrounded by the sounds of family. The stars emerge overhead, and somewhere in the distance, an owl calls.
Above us, flakes of summer ash drift from the grill fires—tiny reminders of the snow that started it all.
This is home—not the cabin, not the sanctuary, not even the mountain, though all of them matter. Home is this: the male beside me, the family we’ve claimed, and the life we’re building together.
Six months from strangers to married. When you find your person—your safe haven, your home—you hold on tight and don’t let go.
The rest? Just details, falling into place one day at a time.