Epilogue
LONDON
Summer in Swift Mountain smells like pine trees, wildflowers, and more sunscreen than you’d think.
Apparently tourists from the lower forty-eight see one moose crossing sign and immediately assume they’re entering an untamed wilderness where SPF fifty becomes a survival requirement.
“You’re staring again.”
I glance up from the circulation desk to find Troy leaning against the front counter with one broad shoulder, dark sunglasses hiding his eyes and one giant hand wrapped around an iced coffee.
The sight still does ridiculous things to me.
Especially because he’s smiling.
In public.
Terrible Troy Taylor smiling in public used to be considered a Big Foot-level sighting in Swift Mountain. Now he smiles at me almost daily.
The entire town is adjusting to this new side of him. Slowly.
“I wasn’t staring,” I lie.
“You absolutely were.”
I grin.
“Can you blame me? You’re very pretty.”
Troy snorts softly while Ethel nearly drops an entire stack of paperback mysteries nearby.
Bernice elbows her immediately.
Neither woman has recovered from the fact that the outlaw on the mountain apparently turned out to be:
A) a former nanny
B) a fan of Jane Austen
C) completely obsessed with the librarian
And the full answer, D) all of the above.
“Ready?” Troy asks.
Warmth blooms instantly in my chest.
Six months together, and I still melt every time he looks at me like I’m his favorite thing in the world. It’ll never get old.
“Absolutely.”
I grab my bag and wave goodbye to Ethel and Bernice before following Troy outside into the warm summer evening.
The truck ride up the mountain feels different now. It doesn’t mean venturing into unchartered territory.
It means going home.
The wildflowers along the road have fully bloomed, soft purple and yellow patches spreading across the hillsides while evening sunlight filters gold through the trees.
But there’s an odd tension in the air. Something that’s making Troy tap his fingers on the steering wheel.
“You’re nervous,” I realize suddenly.
Troy’s hands tighten slightly on the steering wheel. “I’m not nervous.”
“You’re driving exactly five miles under the speed limit.” I gasp dramatically. “Oh my God. You are nervous.”
“I’m turning this truck around.”
I laugh so hard I nearly snort. Yep, I’m definitely the kind of woman Troy has needed all along. If you checked the tag on my shirt, it would say “Girlfriend Material”.
By the time we pull up beside the cabin, curiosity is eating me alive.
“You gonna tell me what’s going on?”
Troy reaches for my hand instead, leading me around the side of the cabin toward the trees behind it.
At first, I don’t understand what I’m seeing.
Then my breath catches. The old storage shed is gone.
Well—not gone exactly. But it’s transformed.
Soft golden light glows through new windows framed by flower boxes overflowing with summer blooms. The weathered wood has been repainted a creamy sage green, and a small porch swing now hangs beneath the overhang.
It looks like something out of a dream.
“Troy…”
My voice comes out barely above a whisper.
He watches me carefully while I step closer.
Closer.
And then I see the sign hanging above the door.
TAKE UP SPACE.
My eyes instantly burn.
“Oh my God.”
Inside is even more breath-taking.
Bookshelves line the walls from floor to ceiling. A giant window seat overlooks the mountains. There’s a cozy reading chair tucked beside a small fireplace, soft blankets folded neatly nearby.
And in the center of it all sits a beautiful wooden desk facing the windows.
Waiting.
For me.
“Troy,” I whisper again, tears fully gathering now. “You did all this?”
His hand rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck.
“Figured the old shed deserved a better life than storing fishing gear.”
I laugh shakily through my tears.
Then I notice the stack of blank journals waiting on the desk.
My chest physically aches.
“Besides, you said once you always wanted to write.”
The simplicity of the statement nearly undoes me.
Not: someday maybe. Not, if you have time. Not, if you’re good enough.
Just: You said you wanted this.
So he built space for it.
I turn toward him slowly.
“You made me a library.”
Troy shrugs one shoulder.
“And a writing room.”
Emotion swells so big inside me I can barely breathe around it. “I know exactly what story I’m going to write first.”
One dark eyebrow lifts. “Oh yeah?”
I step closer until my hands settle against his chest.
“It’s about a man with a reputation for being bad.” I smile softly. “But it turns out he’s only bad at being social.”
Troy snorts. “He sounds like an idiot.”
“He’s amazing,” I correct gently. “And he’s perfect for our heroine.”
His hands slide around my waist automatically.
“Let me guess. She’s a badass from the lower forty-eight who came to town to whip his ass into shape.”
I laugh. “Pretty much. And they obviously fall in love when they get caught in a storm together.”
“Sounds like a bestseller.”
I smile up at him. “You think?”
“Oh yeah.” His gaze turns warm. Intent. “But I know one thing your story needs to really give the readers what they want.”
“What’s that?”
Troy steps back slightly.
Then drops to one knee.
My breath completely leaves my body.
“Oh my God.”
The ring in his hand catches softly in the golden evening light. Delicate but beautiful, the center stone surrounded by tiny leaf-shaped details that somehow feel perfectly mountain wild and elegant all at once.
“Troy—”
“I spent a long time letting people think they knew who I was,” he says quietly. “Then you walked into my life and saw me anyway.”
Tears spill down my cheeks instantly.
His expression softens.
“You made this place feel like home, London.” His thumb brushes over the ring box nervously. “Now I just want you here permanently.”
A watery laugh escapes me. “Yes.”
Relief flashes across his face so fast it nearly wrecks me.
“Yes?” he repeats.
“Yes, you ridiculously handsome man.”
Troy slides the ring onto my finger before standing and hauling me against him hard enough to make me laugh again.
Then he kisses me.
Slow. Deep. Filled with a promise of forever.
I’m about to pull him all the way down to the ground when, somewhere out in the trees—
“I KNEW IT!” Ethel screams. “Bernice, I told you. I told you he was going to propose this summer.”
I burst out laughing against Troy’s mouth while he closes his eyes like a man deeply questioning all his life choices.
Except for me and us.
Whatever happens, I know he’ll always choose me. And I’ll always choose him.
Thanks for reading. Check out the rest of the Mountain Man Rescue series for more!