Epilogue Thoran
Eight Months Later
"Okay, man. I love you. I'll see you when you get home."
Drew lets me hug him and it’s the real deal. Both arms wrap around me with no negotiation. Then he's out the door with his backpack banging against his hip, hollering something over his shoulder about the cooler.
His dad's truck idles at the curb. I don’t like the guy, but we’ve come to terms with the fact that we both love the same kid. I stand in the doorway and wait until they pull off. When I close the door, a familiar quiet fills up our house.
This place isn't complete without that kid in it. It never is. Drew is the son I never knew I needed and it’s impossible to imagine life without him. But quiet doesn't mean empty.
For starters, there's a dog in my house. He’s not a boarder.
He isn’t one of Vivi's clients waiting on a pickup. He’s a permanent resident.
Drew found Dude wandering down by the lagoon.
He befriended him inside of about ninety seconds, which is the Drew standard when it comes to dogs. He gets that from his mother.
My best guess is that Dude is a Newfoundland mixed with something equally poor at making decisions. Either way, he's enormous. When he showed up he was matted clear to the skin. Vivien had him on the table for three hours.
By the time she was done, none of us felt right about sending him anywhere. It's been a month and I can't picture the house without him. Right now Dude’s asleep across the doorway of the nursery, taking up the entire hall, one paw twitching.
"Come here, Dude."
He doesn't so much as flick an ear at me.
I don't blame him. There are more important things to keep an eye on around here now. Instead he resettles with a groan, inches forward, and shoves the door open with his nose. Which leaves just enough of a gap for me to see inside.
Vivien's in the rocking chair. She’s folded into the corner of it and wrapped in that enormous blue blanket Jules knit her. The small lamp is on low. The window's cracked and there's cold air coming up off the lagoon.
Vivi cracks one eye open at me and I feel bad immediately. I shouldn't have let the door move. Sleep is a rare commodity in this house right now. I was up all night too.
She's gray with exhaustion. Her hair is a full-scale disaster. There's a burp cloth over one shoulder and she has not put on anything that isn't soft in days. She has never looked more beautiful.
Best of all, there's a baby asleep on her chest. All eight pounds of him are curled up. One fist up under his chin, breathing that fast little breath they do and the poor kid looks exactly like me.
"He's out," she whispers.
"Don't move. I’ll refill your water and find your book."
"I wasn't going to."
I come in slowly, stepping over the dog, and go down on my knees beside the chair so I'm level with the both of them. Vivien gets a hand out of the blanket and puts it in my hair.
Declan's first night home was a success.
I ran into a wildfire in June without thinking about it twice. But I have never in my life been as terrified as I have been for the last twenty-four hours. I put two fingers against his back and feel it rise, fall, then rise again.
My entire world has fallen into place, and I think Viv’s has too.
There's a new sign hanging over the dryers at her shop now. It’s cedar, hand-painted, every letter a different height, and the last G in grooming leaning like it's got somewhere better to be.
She looks at it about forty times a day and thinks I don't notice.
Over at the station, the bay doors are hung and the pad is poured. The name over the door reads CARL HUNTING MEMORIAL. My guys hit thirty-eight seconds last Thursday, cold start to the rig.
Life in Lumberjack Lagoon is so much more than I ever expected. I'll spend the rest of my time on this planet making sure every single person in this house knows exactly how much they're loved. Drew. Declan. This woman with her hand in my hair.
I don't know how I got so lucky. But I'm not going to spend one minute questioning it.
Vivien's eye slides shut again. Her fingers go still against my scalp.
Dude sighs in the doorway.
And I stay right there on the floor beside them until the light through the window turns gold.