Epilogue
HARTLEY
Stellan stands near the steps with Jake and Hayes while Phoenix and AJ argue loudly about something ridiculous involving hockey stats and a bet that no one seems to remember clearly.
Rhys leans back in a chair with a bottle of soda balanced on his knee while Dark and Wes stand off to the side quietly observing the chaos like two people who’ve learned that sometimes the best leadership strategy is letting idiots burn themselves out.
The house behind us looks completely different than it did the first day Stellan brought us here. The windows glow warm from the inside where the kitchen lights are still on. Toys sit scattered across the porch steps.
Alaska sprints across the yard again, chasing something only she can see, fox clutched in one hand while the other waves dramatically in the air.
“Uncle Hart!” she shouts.
Her voice still catches me off guard sometimes.
The first few weeks after she spoke felt fragile, like the words might disappear if anyone moved too fast. She still signs often when she talks, hands moving automatically beside the words, but now her voice comes easier every day.
She runs up beside the grill and peers at the burgers.
“Are they done yet?”
“Almost,” I say.
Behind her, Stellan walks across the grass toward us, wiping his hands on a towel while he smiles at something Phoenix just yelled across the yard.
I watch him, and he catches me staring.
“What?” he asks.
“You’re hovering,” I say.
“I’m supervising.”
“You’re waiting to steal the first burger.”
He grins.
“That’s also part of the plan.”
Alaska grabs the hem of his shirt.
“Can I help?” she asks.
“With what?” he replies.
“Everything.”
He laughs softly and crouches beside her.
“You can carry the buns to the table.”
She nods as if she’s just been assigned a critical mission.
The fox gets tucked under one arm while she marches toward the picnic table carrying the basket of buns with both hands.
Stellan stands again and bumps his shoulder lightly against mine.
“You look like you’re thinking,” he says.
“I am.”
“About what?”
I glance across the yard.
The crew spreads out across the grass and chairs. Someone opens another soda. Cole's got a plate balanced on his knee, listening to Jake explain something with both hands.
Alaska sits on the bench at the table, swinging her legs while she talks nonstop to Phoenix about something involving dinosaurs and outer space.
Her voice carries clearly across the yard.
I watch Stellan watch her. The expression on his face is quiet and full, and I have to look away from it.
“About this,” I say.
He follows my gaze but doesn't ask me to explain.
The fear still shows up. It probably always will, especially when he leaves for shift. My brain remembers what it felt like to lose someone who should've had decades left.
It just doesn't get the last word anymore.
Across the yard Alaska suddenly jumps up from the table.
“Uncle Stellan!” she yells.
“What?” he calls back.
She points dramatically toward the grill.
“Don’t let Uncle Hart burn the burgers!”
Stellan bursts out laughing. I look down just in time to realize she's not wrong. Smoke curls up off the grill. Phoenix shouts something about firefighters that isn't remotely helpful, and half the yard loses it.
I flip the burgers anyway.
Across the grass Alaska is already talking again to Phoenix, to the fox, to nobody. Loud, constant, and not stopping.
A year ago she barely made a sound and I’m just so grateful of how far she’s come. I know he's not here anymore, but I hope the life we've made will make Lance proud.