Epilogue #2
Something flickered across Zach’s expression—relief so profound it bordered on vulnerability. His free hand found hers, fingers brushing over the pulse in her wrist before threading through hers with familiar ease. The calluses on his palm pressed against her skin, rough and warm and real.
“Good.” A beat of silence passed before he spoke again. “Nick wants us back in Mimosa Cay tomorrow. Something about quarterly reviews and strategic planning.”
Emma’s smile widened. “Does he know you’re terrible at strategic planning meetings?”
“I’m excellent at strategic planning. I’m terrible at sitting through presentations about strategic planning.”
“Fair distinction.” She squeezed his hand. “I assume your brothers are doing well?”
“David’s on-site at Ivory Sands driving Lena nuts. Nick’s…” Zach paused, something almost like amusement crossing his features. “Being Nick. Micromanaging everything while pretending he’s delegating.”
“So, normal.”
“Yeah.” His thumb brushed across her knuckles, a gesture that still surprised her with its tenderness every time he did it. “Normal.”
Normal. The word carried weight they both understood. After everything—the threats, the violence, the uncertainty—normal was a gift. Getting back to regular operations, regular challenges, regular life.
Together, now.
“Where you go…” Emma said softly, the words emerging before she thought them through. But they felt right. Like a promise and a truth and a choice all at once.
Zach’s grip on her hand tightened. Not possessive, but anchoring. Molten silver-blue eyes held hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. “Same.”
One word. But it carried everything—understanding, commitment, the future neither of them planned but both were choosing. She knew Zach had trouble with the words, but she didn’t need them. His actions said everything.
The floatplane pilot emerged from the small dock office, checking his watch and glancing their way.
Zach nodded once, some silent masculine communication that apparently meant we’re ready.
He guided Emma toward the plane with a hand at the small of her back—protective but not controlling, present but not hovering. He was learning. They both were.
Boarding the floatplane felt different than it had all those months ago.
Then, she’d been focused on logistics, on schedules, on the work waiting for her.
Now, as he handed up her bag and then offered his hand to help her step up—not because she needed it, but because he wanted to—the shift completed.
This wasn’t just departure. It was continuation.
She settled into a seat, Zach dropping into the one beside her with easy familiarity. Close enough for their shoulders to brush. Close enough to catch his distinctive scent—mahogany and teakwood and lavender, somehow both grounding and uplifting.
The pilot ran through his preflight checks with professional efficiency. The engine caught, the propeller whirring to life. Emma buckled her seatbelt and watched through the window as the dock crew released the mooring lines.
“You okay?” Zach’s voice was low, meant only for her under the engine noise.
Emma turned to find him watching her with the focused attention he brought to things he was trying to understand. She knew what he was asking—not just about her comfort or the flight itself, but about all of it. Leaving. Moving forward. The uncertainty of what came next.
“Yeah, I am,” she said, and meant it. “As long as I’m with you, I’ll be okay.”
His hand found hers again, resting on the armrest between them. This time, she was the one who squeezed first.
The plane began to taxi, turning in a wide arc that brought the island into view one last time. Emma watched as it passed—the main building with its elegant architecture, the beach pavilion where she shared coffee with staff members, the walking paths she followed during early morning runs.
The terrace where she’d first really talked to Zach, where he’d been so controlled and she’d been determined to see past the armor to the person underneath.
The dock where he taught her basic defensive moves during one of his more paranoid security phases, both of them aware of the excuse for closeness even as they focused on the training.
The plane lifted smoothly, the moment of transition between water and air unmarked except for the changing angle and the way the island began to shrink below them. Her stomach dipped, not from the flight but from the finality of it. This chapter, closing.
Zach’s hand was warm in hers. When she glanced at him, he was watching her instead of the window, his expression open in a way it so rarely was around anyone else. Like she was the view worth paying attention to.
“What?” she murmured.
“Nothing.” His thumb traced a slow circle on the inside of her wrist. Just over the pulse point. “Just… glad you’re here.”
Emma settled back in her seat, her shoulder pressed against Zach’s, her hand in his.
The wind was at their backs.
Emma closed her eyes and breathed in. When she opened them again, Zach was still watching her, something like peace in his expression.
“Ready?” he asked quietly.
She smiled. “Yeah. I am.”
The plane banked, turning toward the horizon. Zach’s thumb brushed over her inner wrist, and stopped on her pulse point.