Epilogue 1 - Casey
Two Years Later
I wake up to the sound of rain pattering against the window and the warmth of Morgan's body pressed against mine.
Still feels like a dream.
Two years, and I still sometimes can't believe she's real. That she stayed.
Her hair is spread across the pillow, one arm thrown over my chest, her breathing slow and even. The early morning light filters through the curtains, casting everything in a soft gray glow.
I brush a strand of hair from her face, slowly not to wake her, and just... look at her.
My girlfriend. My partner. The woman who walked into my shop with a broken-down car and somehow fixed everything that was broken in me. She stirs slightly, mumbling something unintelligible, and burrows closer. I tighten my arm around her and press a kiss to her forehead.
"Casey?" she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep.
"Go back to sleep," I whisper. "It's early."
"What time is it?"
"Six."
She groans. "Why are you awake?"
"Can't help it. Habit."
"Your habits are terrible," she mumbles, but she's smiling.
I smile too and close my eyes, breathing in the smell of her shampoo—something floral that I can never remember the name of but that I've come to associate with home.
Two years.
Two years since she stood in my shop and asked if I could fix her car. Two years since I made the terrifying decision to let her into my life, into Riley's life, and hope like hell she wouldn't leave.
She never left.
She got the job at Murphy's Diner, just like I thought she would. Murphy grumbled about "city girls who probably don't know the difference between scrambled and over-easy," but hired her on the spot when she rattled off the entire menu after looking at it once.
Now she's his favorite employee. She works the breakfast and lunch shifts five days a week, comes home smelling like coffee and bacon, and Riley thinks she's the coolest person in the world.
Hell, I think she's the coolest person in the world.
The shop's doing better too. Word's been spreading. Good old-fashioned word-of-mouth in the age of Yelp reviews, and I've been getting clients from neighboring towns. People who drive twenty, thirty miles because they heard Casey's Automotive is honest and fair and won't try to screw them over.
I had to hire help last year. He's in high school now, works part-time after school and on weekends, and he's good. Really good. A natural talent. It means I can actually take time off. Close the shop for a weekend. Plan a trip.
Which is exactly what we're doing today.
Morgan shifts again, this time opening her eyes and looking up at me.
"You're thinking too loud," she says.
"Sorry."
"What are you thinking about?"
"How lucky I am."
She rolls her eyes, but she's blushing. Even after two years, compliments still make her blush.
"You're sappy in the morning."
"Only with you."
"Lucky me," she says, but she's smiling as she tilts her head up to kiss me.
It's soft and slow, the kind of kiss that doesn't lead anywhere, that's just about being close. We've learned to savor these moments. The quiet ones, before Riley wakes up and the day starts and we have to be responsible adults.
When we break apart, Morgan stretches and yawns.
"We need to finish packing," she says. "We're supposed to leave by nine."
"I know."
"Riley's probably going to insist on bringing half her stuffed animals."
"Definitely."
"And you still need to load the cooler in the car."
"It's on the list."
She sits up, the sheet pooling around her waist, and I try not to get distracted by the fact that she's wearing one of my old t-shirts and nothing else.
"Casey."
"Yeah?"
"You're staring."
"Can't help it."
She laughs and throws a pillow at me. "Get up. We have things to do."
I catch the pillow and pull her back down, kissing her again, deeper this time.
"Casey," she protests, but she's not actually trying to get away.
"Five more minutes."
"We don't have five minutes."
"We'll make time."
She's about to respond when we hear the telltale sound of small feet padding down the hallway.
"Daddy? Morgan?"
We break apart just as Riley pushes open the door, her hair a mess of dark curls and her favorite purple pajamas rumpled from sleep.
"Morning, baby," I say. "You're up early."
"I'm excited!" Riley announces, bouncing on her toes. "We're going on a TRIP!"
"We are," Morgan confirms, sitting up and patting the bed. "Come here, you."
Riley scrambles onto the bed between us, snuggling into Morgan's side like it's the most natural thing in the world.
And it is. It has been for a long time now.
"Are we really going to see the mountains?" Riley asks for probably the hundredth time this week.
"We really are," I tell her.
"And we're going to stay in a cabin?"
"Yep."
"And we're going to make s'mores?"
"So many s'mores," Morgan promises.
Riley grins, gap-toothed and beautiful. She's six now, in first grade, reading chapter books and asking questions about everything under the sun.
And she has a mom.
Not officially. Morgan and I aren't married, though I've been carrying a ring around for the past three months trying to figure out the right time to ask, but in every way that matters.
When Riley has nightmares, she runs to Morgan's side of the bed. When she needs help with homework, she asks Morgan first. When she wants to talk about feelings or friends or anything important, she curls up next to Morgan on the couch and spills everything.
Morgan stepped into the role without hesitation, without complaint, and watching them together fills me with happiness.
"Okay," Morgan says, ruffling Riley's hair. "If we're going to make it to Cedar Falls by tonight, we need to get moving. Riley, go get dressed. Casey, start loading the car. I'll make breakfast."
"Pancakes?" Riley asks hopefully.
"It's not even Wednesday," I point out.
"It's TRIP day," Riley counters. "Trip day pancakes are allowed."
Morgan laughs. "Trip day pancakes it is."
Riley cheers and scrambles off the bed, racing back to her room.
I pull Morgan close one more time. "Have I told you lately that you're amazing?"
"You mentioned it once or twice."
"Well, it bears repeating."
She kisses me quickly. "Come on. We've got a road trip to start."
By nine-fifteen, only slightly behind schedule, we're loaded up and ready to go.
The car is packed with suitcases, the cooler, Riley's requested stuffed animals (I managed to negotiate her down to three), and enough snacks to survive a zombie apocalypse.
Riley is buckled into her booster seat in the back, already asking if we're there yet even though we haven't left the driveway.
Morgan is in the passenger seat, Annie's journal on her lap. She's been documenting our trips for the past two years: the places we've gone, the things we've seen, the memories we've made.
Continuing what she and Annie started but making it her own.
Making it ours.
I back out of the driveway and head toward the highway, and Riley immediately launches into a song she learned at school.
"Louder, Riley," Morgan encourages, and I groan.
"You're going to regret that in about an hour."
"Worth it."
We drive through Blackwater Falls, past Murphy's Diner—Murphy himself is outside, sweeping the sidewalk, and he waves when he sees us—past the shop, past the park where Riley plays every weekend.
This town has become home in a way no place ever was. It's where I built a life, where I learned to trust again, where I found Morgan.
As we hit the highway, Morgan reaches over and takes my hand.
"You okay?" she asks.
"Yeah. Just thinking."
"About?"
"About how two years ago, I had no idea my life was about to change."
"Good change or bad change?"
"The best change," I tell her honestly.
She squeezes my hand. "Me too."
In the back seat, Riley has moved on from singing to asking approximately seven thousand questions about Cedar Falls and the mountains and whether bears are friendly or scary.
Morgan answers each one patiently, occasionally glancing at me with a smile that says *this is our life now.*
And fuck, what a life it is.
Cedar Falls is about six hours away, a small mountain town that Morgan found in her research. She's been planning this trip for months, mapping out hiking trails and scenic overlooks and places Annie would have loved.
We're going to scatter some of Annie's ashes there. At a waterfall Morgan saw in pictures, surrounded by mountains and trees and the kind of beauty that takes your breath away.
It's bittersweet, this trip. A goodbye and a hello all at once.
But we'll do it together. The three of us.
Our little family.
And I drive toward Cedar Falls, toward the mountains, toward the future we're building together.
Two years ago, Morgan walked into my shop with a broken car and a broken heart.
Now, we're both fixed. Both whole.
Both exactly where we're supposed to be.