Epilogue
Lucy
two months later
The mountains look like a painting this morning—soft, endless layers of blue and silver, pine trees dusted in fresh snow, the sky pale as porcelain.
Devil’s Peak has never looked more like a postcard.
Or maybe I’m biased, because today I’m standing inside a tiny cabin with my heart thundering in my chest while the entire town sets up outside for my wedding.
My wedding. To Ash Calder.
I press my palms to the windowpane and exhale, watching my breath fog the glass.
Beyond the frosty blur, I catch flashes of red jackets—firefighters setting up rows of chairs in the snowy clearing.
Twinkle lights already loop between tall pines.
A white runner stretches down the aisle, sprinkled with crushed pink rose petals.
Someone shouts something about “reinforcing the arch before Calder rips it out of the ground himself.”
I smile. Of course he’s stressing about structural integrity on our wedding day.
“Miss Lucy?” a small voice says.
I turn.
Holly stands in the doorway holding two baskets—one overflowing with petals and the other carrying something rattling inside it. She’s in a fluffy pink tulle dress, snow boots, and a sparkly heart-shaped headband. She looks like a Valentine’s Day cupcake brought to life.
My heart squeezes. “Hey, sweetheart. You look beautiful.”
She beams. “I get to be flower girl and ring bearer. Uncle Ash said it’s because I’m the most responsible one in the family.”
I laugh. “He might not be wrong.”
She marches to me with the seriousness of a royal messenger.
“I came to give you this.” She lifts the rattling basket.
“The rings. But don’t tell Uncle Ash because he said he needed to keep them safe, but I told him it’s my job, not his job, and he said he’d only let me hold them for two minutes—so don’t tell him, okay? ”
“Okay,” I whisper, taking the tiny basket from her. “Our secret.”
She nods firmly and then gasps. “Oh! And you have to see the carriage.”
My eyebrows lift. “Carriage?”
She nods so hard her headband nearly flings off. “With horses. And bells. And blankets. Uncle Ash said it’s for your ‘grand exit.’”
My chest warms. “He did?”
She gives me a look that says Duh. “He wants it to be perfect for you. He said you deserve everything magical.”
I swallow. Hard.
“Go get ready, Miss Lucy. You have to be the prettiest bride ever.”
I laugh lightly. “That’s the plan.”
She darts out again, leaving the door open just long enough for icy air to nip my ankles. I shut it and breathe in deeply.
The room is quiet again, except for my heartbeat.
I smooth my dress down. Long sleeves made of lace, a soft skirt that moves like breath, tiny pearl buttons that run all the way down my spine. It’s simple. Elegant. Romantic.
Me.
Ash hasn’t seen it. He wanted the moment to hit him. He said those exact words.
“I want it to hit me, Lucy.”
I think it might hit me harder.
A knock taps at the door, gentle. “Lucy? You ready?” It’s Savannah, the new paramedic who’s quickly become one of my closest friends here in Devil’s Peak.
I open the door, and she gasps. “Oh honey. He’s going to combust.”
“That’s the goal.”
She laughs and squeezes my hand. “Everyone’s seated. It’s time.”
My throat tightens with nerves—thrilling, electric, alive. “Okay.”
We step outside into the cold, and the world looks like a fairytale.
Soft snowfall drifts from the sky like confetti.
The aisle glows under strands of lights.
The whispers of the crowd hush when they see me.
Chairs filled with friends, town locals, and every firefighter in Devil’s Peak Fire & Rescue—all bundled in coats but smiling wide.
But I only see him.
Ash stands beneath an arch made of pine and winter roses, a dusting of snow clinging to his dark hair. He’s in a black suit tailored across his broad shoulders, white shirt unbuttoned just enough to show the edge of the tattoo on his collarbone. His jaw is tight. His hands flex at his sides.
And he is staring at me like he can’t breathe.
My legs nearly buckle.
Holly appears ahead of me like a pink puffball tornado, tossing petals with zero accuracy and zero concern for accuracy. She throws some backward. Some sideways. Some directly at the minister. Then she carries her second basket—holding the rings—like it’s a baby bird.
People laugh. Savannah mutters, “Adorable chaos child.”
I step onto the aisle runner, and the sound of snow crunching under my boots echoes across the clearing. My heart pounds harder with each step. Ash’s eyes stay locked on mine, unblinking, fierce, almost wild with emotion he doesn’t bother to hide.
Halfway down, my breath catches.
Because he mouths something.
Mine.
Heat rolls through me.
A slow smile pulls at his mouth like he’s fully aware I saw it and fully aware what it’s doing to me.
By the time I reach him, I’m trembling.
He reaches for my hands, warm and steady and grounding.
“You okay?” he whispers, voice rough.
“Completely,” I breathe.
His thumb strokes the inside of my wrist—the most intimate touch—before he turns me gently toward the minister.
The ceremony is small, simple, sweet. Holly stands right by us, hugging her baskets like a secret security assignment. Snow drifts in lazy spirals around us, catching in Ash’s hair, melting on my eyelashes. A hush settles over the entire mountainside as we speak our vows.
Ash’s voice is calm but breaks once.
“Lucy… you brought color into my life. Light. Heat. Things I stopped believing I’d ever have again.” His hand tightens around mine. “You’re my spark. My calm. My storm. My home.”
My breath shakes, tears stinging my eyes.
When it's my turn, my voice wavers. “Ash… you protect without controlling. You love without fear. And you’ve given me a family I didn’t know I was allowed to want. You’re my safe place. My fire. My heart.”
His thumb brushes over my knuckles, slow and faintly possessive in a way that melts my knees.
When the rings come, Holly digs through the wrong basket first. “Oops,” she says loudly, then tries the second. “Aha!" She hands them to the minister with exaggerated care.
People laugh softly.
Ash slides my ring slowly onto my finger, eyes locked to mine the entire time as if committing every millimeter of the moment to memory. I slide his on next—big, warm hand trembling just slightly.
When the minister says, “You may kiss the—”
Ash doesn't wait.
He pulls me in with a hand to my waist and kisses me right there in front of the entire town.
Soft at first. Gentle. Snow clinging to our lips. His hand slides up my back, drawing me closer until my body molds to his. The kiss deepens, heat curling inside me despite the cold mountain air. Someone whistles. Someone cheers. Holly squeals, “FINALLY!”
Ash pulls back just enough to breathe against my mouth. “Mrs. Calder.”
A shiver tears down my spine. “Say it again.”
His eyes darken. “Mrs. Calder.”
I kiss him again because how could I not?
Afterward, while everyone gathers for hot cocoa and cinnamon rolls, Ash slips his hand into mine and leads me toward the horse-drawn carriage waiting at the trailhead. White horses with red blankets. Sleigh bells. Snow dusting the seats like glitter.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
His arm curls around my waist from behind, chin brushing my shoulder. “You deserve beautiful.”
My breath trembles.
“You ready?” he murmurs.
“For what?”
“For forever.”
I turn to him, heart full.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes.”
He helps me into the carriage, tucks a thick blanket over our legs, then climbs in beside me. I lean into him, my new husband warm and solid against my side. Holly waves wildly from the crowd before sprinting toward the cocoa station, slipping on snow and popping back up like a rubber ball.
Ash wraps his arm around me fully, pulling me against his chest as the horses start forward.
The sleigh glides through fresh snow, bells jingling softly, the mountains stretching endless and quiet around us. Twilight settles in, painting the sky in shades of lavender and gold.
I look up at him.
At the man who once called me a walking hazard. The man who tried not to want me. The man who now holds me like he’ll never let go.
He notices me watching and smirks. “What?”
“Still thinking about that kiss,” I say softly.
His fingers slide under my chin, turning my face to his. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because I’m nowhere near done.”
The carriage rounds a bend, drifting into deeper snow, the world silent except for the horses and our breaths mixing in the cold air.
Ash kisses me again—slow, possessive, claiming.
My husband. My fire. My forever.
And with snow falling all around us and mountains stretching wide and wild ahead, I know with absolute certainty: this is where I belong.
This is home.
This is love.
This is our forever.