Epilogue 2 - Shannen
Fifty years later
I feel weightless, light as a feather, and when I open my eyes, I’m moving. I don’t have my glasses on, but I know where I am.
I always know.
Phoenix’s arms.
He carries me like he always does, steady and careful, refusing to let me see the strain. But I know it hurts him now because, like mine, his body fights back against the years.
He brings me out here every night lately, the moment the air cools and the sky begins to darken. Because he isn’t ready for the last time we lie under the stars to be the last.
He isn’t ready to call anything final.
But it’s coming, and I’m okay with that.
I really am.
I’m at peace.
Phoenix gave me a life under the stars. A life with two children who always had each other and were loved completely by two parents who showed them what it looks like to choose your soulmate every single day—a life where love was never a question.
He gave me fifty years of mornings waking up beside him and being loved so fiercely it sometimes scared me.
I’m gently lowered onto the soft pile of cushions and blankets he set up earlier, just like always, and then he lies down too. He's part of the bed now. My favorite part. His chest is beneath my head, and his arms curve around me as if they were built for this exact moment.
I press my ear to his heartbeat, and it’s racing so hard now, betraying the fear he isn’t willing to show me.
“Look up, pretty girl.”
I do, letting my eyes find the stars while I stay tucked into him.
He’s scared, but he doesn’t need to be because he and I—we’re forever in this world and whatever comes next.
We both know it. We always have.
“Are you warm enough?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “I’m perfect.”
“Comfortable?”
“How could I not be?” I say, smiling so wide it almost hurts, because being in his arms has always been the safest place I know. “It’s beautiful out here.”
“You said that last night,” he whispers, and I hear the crack in his voice he’s trying to hide.
His fingers move against my skin, tracing constellations the way I used to trace them on him, back when our nights felt endless.
“It was beautiful then too.”
“And the night before?”
“Every single one,” I whisper back. “Always.”
The thought of waking up tomorrow without me is the only thing in this world that still has the power to break him.
“Can we stay out here a little longer tonight?” I ask, even though we both know what I’m really asking.
Can we have more time?
Just a little more?
“We can do whatever you want, baby.”
“Thank you.” He pulls me closer, like he’s trying to press me into his bones. “I love you, Phoenix Cassidy.”
“I love you too, but can you please tell me again tomorrow?”
“Yes,” I try to promise. “But if I don’t… I’ll say it as soon as I can.”
“If you think I’m staying anywhere without you, you’re wrong. If you think I’m leaving you alone, you’re even more wrong.”
“Always the stalker,” I whisper, smiling through tears I didn’t realize were falling.
“Always,” he answers and presses a kiss to my head.
I nestle into him, feeling his body relax a little as he holds me.
“Bleed if you need to,” he whispers, his voice frayed as trembling fingers brush my cheek.
“Break if you must. And if…” His voice cracks completely as he swallows hard, fighting the sob building in his chest. “If you need to leave, it’s okay.
” His hand cups my face, his thumb stroking my cheekbone like he’s memorizing the feel of my skin.
“I’ll be right behind you. I promise. I won’t make you wait long. ”
I’m no longer looking at the stars but at his face, memorizing every new line time has carved into him, every scar, and every version of him I’ve loved for almost my entire life.
And while we stay there, wrapped around each other, under the same sky that has watched us our whole lives—the one that watched us fall in love as kids, that saw us fight and break and come back together stronger every single time—I know this isn’t and never will be goodbye.
We’re forever and hereafter.
Just like he promised.
THE END