Epilogue
Jake
Fall deepens in Silver Ridge until the air carries the sharp bite of woodsmoke and wet leaves. The ocean still rolls in steadily and gray, but the tourists have gone, leaving the streets quiet and the beaches empty except for locals.
Grace’s rental cottage lease ended two weeks ago. She never renewed it. Instead, she packed the last of her boxes, stacked them beside mine in the truck bed, and we drove them across town to the small bungalow on Maple Street we bought together a month ago.
The house sits at the end of a short lane lined with maple trees that blaze red and gold this time of year.
It’s a classic coastal cottage— a single story, white clapboard siding weathered soft by salt wind, wraparound porch with a swing that creaks when the breeze moves it, small yard fenced with white pickets and climbing roses that still bloom in stubborn bursts of pink even now.
Three bedrooms, one bath, wide-plank pine floors that groan underfoot like they’re telling stories.
The kitchen has a big farmhouse sink and windows that look straight out to the dunes and the sea beyond.
Grace cried the first time we walked through it. They were happy tears, she said, though I saw the fear flickering behind them. She still worries sometimes that good things come with expiration dates.
We moved in on Saturday when the sky was the color of old denim, and the wind smelled like rain that never quite arrived.
I carried the heavy boxes while she directed traffic with a clipboard and a determined expression that made me want to kiss her senseless.
Liv showed up with pizza and beer, helped us unload the truck, then disappeared when the sun dipped low so we could have the house to ourselves.
Now it’s Sunday evening. The porch swing creaks under us as we sit wrapped in a warm blanket.
Grace leans against my chest, legs tucked under her, left hand resting on my thigh.
The new ring on her finger catches the last of the daylight.
It’s a simple platinum band with tiny waves etched inside.
She twists it absently, a habit she’s developed since I slid it on her finger.
The bungalow glows behind us. Lamps burn in the living room, warm yellow light spilling through the windows onto the porch boards.
Inside, books line the shelves we built.
Her scarves hang on hooks by the door. My surfboards lean against the wall in the spare room that we’re slowly turning into an office.
I press my mouth to her temple. “You’re quiet.”
She tilts her head back to look at me. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
“How fast everything changed.” Her voice is soft, almost wondering. “Three months ago, I was driving into town with no plan except surviving the summer. Now I live here, with you, in our house, while wearing your ring. It feels like a dream I’m afraid to wake up from.”
I tighten my arm around her shoulders. “It’s not a dream.”
“I know.” She turns the ring again. “But sometimes I still wait for the other shoe to drop. For someone to tell me I don’t belong here—"
I cut her off with a kiss. When I pull back, I rest my forehead against hers.
“You belong here,” I say quietly. “In this house with me, in our bed every night, and my arms every morning. You belong in the kitchen, burning toast and laughing when I try to save it. You belong on the porch swing watching the sunset and on the beach walking barefoot at dawn. You belong in every room we’ve already filled with our things and every room we’ll fill together. You belong to me, Grace. Full stop.”
Her eyes shimmer. She blinks the tears away and smiles instead. “You always make things sound so simple.”
“It is simple.” I brush my thumb across her cheek. “I love you. You love me. We chose each other. The rest is just living.”
She exhales shakily, then turns in my arms until she’s straddling my lap on the swing. The blanket slips to our waists. Her hands frame my face, thumbs stroking my beard.
“I love you,” she whispers.
I slide my hands under her sweater, palms flat against the warm skin of her back. “Good, because I’m not letting you go.”
She kisses me then, full of everything we’ve fought through to reach this moment.
I kiss her back with the same hunger, same tenderness, tasting the salt of her tears and the sweetness of her smile.
My hands roam up her spine, down to her hips, pulling her closer until she rocks against me with a soft gasp.
“Inside,” she breathes against my mouth. “Bed. Now.”
I stand with her wrapped around me, legs locked at my waist, arms around my neck. She laughs low in her throat when I carry her through the front door, kicking it shut behind us. The house is warm, lamps glowing in the living room, the faint scent of apple pie still lingering in the air.
We don’t make it to the bedroom.
I set her on the kitchen island, the same one where I took her slow and deep that first afternoon we christened the house. She reaches for my belt, fingers quick and sure. I tug her sweater over her head and toss it aside.
Her breasts spill free, nipples tight in the cool air. I lower my head, take one into my mouth, tongue swirling while my hand cups the other, thumb brushing back and forth.
She moans, fingers threading into my hair, tugging me closer. “Jake.”
I switch sides, lavishing the same attention until she arches, thighs squeezing my hips. My free hand pops the button on her jeans, works the zipper down. She lifts her hips. I tug denim and panties off in one motion, leaving her bare on the granite, legs spread, skin flushed.
I drop to my knees between her thighs, hook her legs over my shoulders, and bury my face in her.
She cries out the second my tongue touches her. I lick slow, deliberate, long strokes from her opening to her clit, then tight circles around the swollen bud. She’s wet, slick, perfect. I groan against her, the vibration making her hips buck.
“You taste so good,” I murmur. “So sweet. So mine.”
Her hands fist in my hair. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
I don’t. I slide two fingers inside her, curl them against that spot that makes her sob my name. My tongue works her clit in steady rhythm, flick, circle, suck until her thighs tremble around my ears and her breath turns ragged.
“Come for me, baby,” I rasp. “Let me taste it.”
She shatters with a broken cry, inner walls pulsing around my fingers, thighs clamping tight. I work her through it, licking softly until she whimpers and tugs me up.
I stand. She reaches for my belt, hands shaking. I help her, shoving my jeans down, boxers following. She wraps her fingers around me, strokes once, twice. I groan, hips jerking.
“Inside me,” she breathes. “Now.”
I notch myself at her entrance and push in slowly. We both moan as I fill her. She wraps her legs around my waist, heels digging into my ass. I start moving, slow rolls at first, then harder thrusts that make the island creak.
“You feel so good,” I groan against her throat. “So tight. So wet. Like you were made for me.”
She arches, nails raking my back. “Harder. Please.”
I give it to her deep, relentlessly, my hips snapping. The kitchen fills with the sounds of our bodies meeting, her gasps, my groans.
“I love you,” I rasp.
“I love you too.” Tears shimmer in her eyes. “So much.”
The words push us both over. She comes first, clenching around me and crying my name. I follow seconds later, burying myself deep, spilling inside her with a low, broken groan.
We stay locked together, breathing hard, foreheads pressed. I kiss her tears away, her cheeks, her mouth.
I pull out gently, clean us both with a towel that she instantly makes me throw into the wash. I carry her to the bedroom, lay her on the bed, and crawl in beside her.
She curls against my chest, ring glinting on her finger in the low light from the hallway.
“I want to get married in the spring,” she says quietly. “On the beach. Just us, Liv, and whoever else wants to come. No fuss. Just vows and waves.”
I kiss her forehead. “Spring it is.”
She traces the line of my jaw. “I’m still scared sometimes. That it won’t last. That I’ll mess it up.”
“I know.” I tighten my arm around her. “I’m scared sometimes, too, but I’d rather be scared with you than not scared without you.”
She smiles against my skin. “One day at a time.”
“One day at a time.”
Thank you for reading Jake and Grace’s story!