Epilogue
ELENA
“You’re lucky I’m too pregnant to say I told you so.” Kira shifts in the restaurant chair, her belly so big she can no longer get comfortably close to the table.
I frown at her. “What did you tell me?”
“I told you you’d end up with those three hunky firemen.”
“Did you? I remember you telling me to stay open.”
She nods, satisfied. “And it’s a good thing you took my advice.”
I shake my head and laugh. “It was good advice.”
I don’t bother telling her that I didn’t intentionally try to stay open. Getting together with those hunky firemen seemed inevitable, much as we all tried to get in our own way.
She reaches for my hand and squeezes it once. “I’m so glad it all worked out.”
“Me too.” I smile back at her, then take a sip of my coffee. “How are you feeling this week?”
Kira smooths her hand over her rounded midsection. “Ready to pop.”
“It could be any day now.”
“Sooner than later would be great,” she says.
“Are the guys all ready for the baby to arrive?”
Kira starts giggling. “A few days ago, I went downstairs when they were having one of their work meetings, discussing clients, who’s doing what, and so on. After they finished talking about a big project in the city, they brought up their next order of business, which was baby preparations.”
“They’re having meetings about it?”
“They’re treating it like a tactical mission. They’ve been plotting timelines, planning the delivery, and stocking supplies. I wouldn’t be surprised if Atlas made a PowerPoint of some sort.”
We’re still laughing when Ruth arrives with our lunch.
Our conversation goes quiet for a couple of minutes as we dig into the food. Meanwhile, I savor the everyday bit of Moon Ridge life that goes on around us.
Nearby, a trio of women are discussing their latest knitting projects, two older men are talking about car repairs, and back in the corner booth, Mae and Ed are sharing a milkshake.
It’s exactly this kind of peaceful normality that makes me so glad life is back to normal—no, actually, life is much better than normal these days.
Right now, T.J. is out on a hike with Buck, Weston, and Calder, and tonight, the five of us are going to curl up on the couch, watch a movie, and eat popcorn. Life is very good indeed.
“Who’s that?” Kira whispers, directing my attention to the restaurant’s entrance.
I glance up, expecting to see someone I know, because even though I’m a relative newcomer, I’ve lived here longer than Kira, and I meet a lot of people through the school. But I don’t recognize the woman who’s just come in.
She looks to be in her late twenties and is wearing well-worn hiking boots and a faded field jacket that looks like it’s seen more trails than closets. A canvas bag hangs from one shoulder, and when she comes closer, heading to a nearby table, I see a topographic map sticking out of the top.
I look at Kira and shrug.
The woman orders coffee, then spreads her map over the table.
When Ruth returns a minute later, she sets the cup on the part of the table that’s clear. “You passing through?”
“Maybe,” the woman says. “Do you happen to know any local guides who have experience with the mountain passes?”
Ruth’s expression shifts, not enough to be unfriendly, but enough that I notice. “Well,” she says slowly, “there are the Wilder brothers.”
The stranger waits, pencil poised above the map. “Wilder brothers?”
“Triplets up on the ridge,” Ruth adds, as if it explains everything.
Across from me, Kira’s mouth twitches.
I lower my voice. “Should someone warn her?”
Kira glances toward the woman, then back at me. “About the mountains or the men?”
A few days later, when my phone rings from an unknown number, I almost don’t answer, but something tells me I should. “Hello?”
“Elena? This is Atlas.”
My chest immediately fills with a hopeful excitement, especially since Kira is a couple of days past her due date. “Hi, Atlas. Is Kira okay?”
“She’s good. In fact, I’m calling to give you the wonderful news. Kira had the baby this morning. Her name is Felicity.”
“Aww, Felicity. I love that name. They’re both doing well?” I can tell they are by Atlas’s voice, which is proud and happy and has an uncharacteristic tinge of nervous excitement. I know from experience the kind of impact a baby can have on a man, even one who doesn’t often show a softer side.
“They’re both fine. Healthy baby girl. Kira’s resting now, but she said she’d like to see you if you’re free.”
I laugh softly, already tidying the papers I was working on into a stack. “I’m free. I’ll see you soon. Do you need anything?”
“Everything’s under control,” he says, sounding more like the Atlas I know. “We’ll see you later.”
When the call ends, I sit there for a second with my hand curled around the phone and my heart swelling with a strange, tender little ache.
A baby. New life always feels miraculous, but with everything Kira survived to get here, this feels like something even bigger. She deserves every bit of joy a baby brings.
An hour later, the five of us are pulling into the Sentinel compound, and it feels so different from recent visits. Lately, I’d been associating this place with danger, contingency plans, and the long shadow of things hunting me. Now, as Buck parks and we all climb out, it just feels like family.
T.J. brought one of his stuffed animals to give to the baby, and he rushes ahead, excited, until Buck quietly calls his name as a reminder to slow down.
Atlas opens the door before we can knock, like he’s been tracking our arrival the whole time, and he probably has. His expression softens when he sees us, and though Atlas is not a man given to outward displays, there’s no mistaking his happiness today.
Inside, the house smells warm, like something savory from the kitchen, clean laundry, and wood polish, and beneath it all, that faint, sweet scent unique to homes with a newborn.
Boyd appears with a dish towel slung over one shoulder. “You made it.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it,” Weston says.
“Good answer.” Boyd holds out his fist to T.J. to bump knuckles. His grin is easy, but softer around the edges than usual.
Weston and Boyd clasp hands, then pull into a rough one-armed hug that turns into Boyd thumping him on the back hard enough to make Weston laugh.
“How’s dad life treating you so far?” Weston asks.
Boyd snorts. “It’s too early to say, but I can already tell I won’t need to use any special methods to fall asleep when I have the chance.”
I stand there for a second watching the six men greet each other. They came from different teams and different histories, but the same hardwired instinct lives in all of them—the need to protect, to watch over, to stand between danger and the people they love.
The men in my life called on Sentinel when the threats escalated, and somewhere along the way, professional trust became real friendship.
Kira’s in the great room, curled into one corner of the couch under a blanket, and my breath catches when I see the tiny bundle in her arms.
I go straight to her and lean down carefully so I can hug her without jostling the baby. “You did it.”
“I did.” Kira looks tired, but radiant. “I still can’t believe she’s real.” She shifts the blanket just enough for me to see the baby’s face, and the world seems to go still.
She’s so impossibly small, pink-cheeked and sleeping hard, with one fist tucked close under her chin. Pale brown eyelashes lie against her skin, and there’s a softness to her that makes something in me ache.
Maybe it’s because of everything we’ve been through, but the idea of something so tiny and perfect entering the world feels like proof that life keeps making room for joy.
“She’s beautiful.”
Kira’s eyes turn bright. “I know. I can’t stop staring at her.”
“I don’t think anyone here can.”
That gets a quiet rumble of agreement from several places around the room.
T.J. edges closer. “Can I meet her?”
Kira smiles at him. “She’s sleeping right now, but this is Felicity.”
He studies her for a moment, then holds up his stuffed fox. “I brought this for her, if she wants it later.”
“That is so incredibly sweet of you,” Kira says, beaming at him. “Thank you.”
Atlas takes it from him like it’s something ceremonial and sets it next to the nearby cradle. “First official toy delivery.”
Silas, who’s leaning against the mantel, says, “Good choice. Capable, watchful, survives on intelligence.”
T.J. gives him a delighted grin, and even Buck’s mouth twitches.
I settle into the armchair nearest the couch while the others spread around the room.
Buck gets pulled into a cradle inspection by Boyd.
Calder and Atlas disappear briefly into the kitchen, where I can hear the low cadence of their discussion.
Weston ends up near the window with Silas, where Weston manages to coax actual conversation out of the often-silent man.
Every once in a while, Silas’s mouth twitches, and Weston looks quietly pleased with himself.
There’s a peacefulness to it all that I don’t think I could have fully appreciated six months ago.
Men who are usually more at home dealing with logistics, threat assessments, and emergencies are now standing around a sleeping infant, teasing one another about diaper duty and burp-cloth strategy.
Buck asks Boyd if he’s built Felicity her own log cabin yet.
“Give me time,” Boyd says without missing a beat.
Atlas returns from the kitchen carrying tea for Kira and pauses automatically when Felicity makes a sound in her sleep. His attention locks on her with the precision of a man who’s used to responding to danger, only now his focus is fully fixed on this tiny new human.
It nearly undoes me, but not because it’s surprising. Men like this are always going to love with their whole heart once they have something small and precious enough to hold, but there’s still something incredibly moving about seeing power repurposed into tenderness.
Kira catches my attention and smiles like she knows exactly what I’m thinking.