36. Epilogue
Epilogue
Celeste
One Year Later
The air on the Cape in July feels different than the city.
The breeze coming off the water carries the smell of salt and sunscreen and fresh-cut grass, the kind of summer air that settles into your lungs and makes everything feel a little slower, a little lighter.
Maybe it’s the sunlight bouncing off the lake in front of Tate’s parents’ house, turning the water into a sheet of glittering gold.
Or maybe it’s just that for the first time since I moved away years ago…
I’m not scared to be here.
Not waiting for a phone call that will ruin everything.
Not bracing for the next fight.
Just… here.
The screen door creaks softly behind me as I step out onto the porch, the wood warm under my bare feet. Somewhere down by the dock, someone is playing music low enough that it drifts across the water like background noise to the day.
Rowen is sprinting across the grass barefoot, his laughter echoing through the backyard.
The kid runs like he’s powered by pure chaos, knees grass-stained, curls bouncing wildly, the oversized T-shirt he stole from Tate flapping behind him like a cape.
“Mom! Look!”
He skids to a stop in front of me, cheeks flushed pink from the sun, eyes bright with excitement.
In his hands is a small green frog.
He holds it up proudly like he’s just discovered buried treasure.
“Oh my god,” I laugh, immediately covering my face with both hands. “Please don’t bring that inside.”
Too late.
Rowen is already turning toward the house, clutching his new amphibian friend with the determination of someone who absolutely plans on keeping it.
He’s already running toward the house.
Behind him, Parker and Preston are sitting in lawn chairs, both laughing like they’ve had front-row seats to the chaos all afternoon.
“Kid’s fearless,” Preston says, wearing his New York Stars shirt, and I can’t miss the pink tattoo that is on his right biceps mixed in with all the dark tattoos around it.
“Kid’s disgusting,” Parker adds as Rowen runs past them with the frog.
The back door swings open behind me, and Tate steps outside carrying two drinks.
The screen slaps softly against the frame, the familiar sound making me glance over my shoulder.
And just like that, the air leaves my lungs.
Even after everything this past year, the sight of him still does that to me.
Tate looks sun-warmed and relaxed in a way I don’t think I’ve ever seen before, barefoot, athletic shorts hanging low on his hips, an old gray T-shirt stretched slightly across his shoulders. The late afternoon sun catches in his hair as he walks toward me, lighting the edges of it gold.
The New York Stars draft hat is backwards on his head.
The same one they handed him the night everything changed.
Well.
One of the nights everything changed.
I still remember the way the arena lights looked that night. The way my hands shook when they called his name. The way Rowen screamed louder than anyone in the room when Tate stepped up to the stage.
He hands me a lemonade before sliding his arm around my waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“You look like you’re thinking too hard again,” he murmurs.
“I do that.”
“I know.”
His hand settles naturally against my hip, fingers spreading slightly like he’s anchoring me there.
Like it’s always belonged there.
“Still weird?” he asks quietly.
I glance at the hat.
The logo.
The life we somehow ended up in.
“You being an NHL player?” I tease.
Tate groans immediately, dropping his head back toward the sky.
“Don’t start that.”
“You’re literally drafted.”
“Yeah, well,” he mutters, nudging my hip with his. “I still feel like the same guy who almost fell on his face skating backwards in front of you.”
“That did happen.”
“Once.”
“Twice.”
He sighs dramatically, dragging a hand down his face like I’ve personally exhausted him.
“Babe.”
I laugh, leaning into him, my shoulder fitting against his chest like it was designed to.
“Okay, but seriously,” I say softly, turning my head so he can see I mean it.
“I’m proud of you.”
His expression shifts instantly.
Less teasing.
More something deeper.
“You know that only happened because you and Ro were there,” he says quietly.
“That was all you.”
“Nah.”
His thumb rubs slow circles on my waist.
“That was having something to fight for.”
My chest tightens.
Across the yard, Rowen is now trying to convince Preston to hold the frog.
“Absolutely not,” Preston says immediately.
“Come on!” Rowen insists.
“You’re lucky I like your dad.”
Tate snorts beside me.
“Kid’s got confidence.”
“He gets that from you.”
“God help us.”
Rowen suddenly drops the frog and runs straight toward us.
“Dad!”
The word still hits me every single time.
Even though it’s been almost fouralmost a four months since Rowen said it for the first time.
Even though Tate officially adopted him three months ago.
Even though the court papers are framed in Tate’s office like the proudest achievement of his life.
Not the draft jersey.
Not the signed contract.
Those papers.
The ones with Rowen’s name next to his with Tate’s last name as his.
“Whoa!” Tate laughs as Rowen launches himself at him from the grass like a tiny missile.
Tate barely has time to brace before he scoops him up easily, setting him on his hip like he’s done it a thousand times.
“What’s up, buddy?”
Rowen is practically vibrating with excitement, curls wild from running around the yard.
“Uncle Preston is scared of frogs.”
Across the yard, Preston throws his hands in the air.
“Because I have standards!”
Rowen dissolves into giggles, the sound bright and contagious.
Then he turns back to Tate, eyes wide with sudden curiosity.
“Can we go to every one of your hockey games in New York?”
Tate glances at me.
That quiet smile appears again.
The one that’s soft around the edges. The one that still feels a little stunned.
The one that says we did it.
“Yeah, bud,” he says easily. “You’re gonna be at every game as long as they’re not too late, you start at your new school this year.”
Rowen gasps like that’s the greatest thing he’s ever heard.
“Really?!”
“Really.”
“Even when you’re famous?”
Tate nearly chokes on his own laugh.
“Especially then.”
Rowen wraps his arms around Tate’s neck in a hug so tight it nearly knocks the draft hat right off his head.
“Love you, Dad.”
Tate freezes for just a second.
It’s quick. Most people probably wouldn’t even notice.
But I do.
Because even now… it still affects him.
Still means everything.
Still hits him right in the chest every single time.
His arm tightens around Rowen’s back.
“Love you too, Ro.”
My eyes sting instantly.
I blink the tears away quickly before they can fall, turning my gaze out toward the lake so no one notices.
Because in the last year…
I didn’t know if we would survive.
If Rowen would be safe.
If Tate would stay.
If the fear that followed us everywhere would ever actually let go.
I didn’t know if we’d ever have a life that didn’t feel like we were constantly waiting for something bad to happen.
But now?
Now we have this.
A backyard full of laughter.
Bare feet in the grass.
Sunlight bouncing off the water.
A son who sleeps peacefully every night without nightmares.
A future that stretches wide open in front of us instead of closing in.
Tate catches me staring and nudges my shoulder gently.
“You crying again?” he whispers.
“Maybe.”
He grins immediately.
“Good tears?”
I nod, my voice soft.
“The best kind.”
He leans down and presses a warm kiss to my temple.
Rowen suddenly wiggles in his arms, already onto the next adventure.
“Dad! Race me!”
Tate glances down at him skeptically.
“You’re gonna lose.”
“No I’m not!”
“You absolutely are.”
Rowen squirms free and drops to the grass, immediately sprinting toward the far end of the yard like the challenge has already started.
Tate sighs dramatically like this is a massive inconvenience.
Then he pulls the draft hat off his head and hands it to me.
As he does, the sunlight catches the diamond ring he slipped onto my finger when he proposed in June, sending a bright flash of light across the porch.
“Hold this.”
I take the hat, raising an eyebrow.
“Why?”
“So I don’t embarrass myself in front of our kid.”
A laugh slips out of me.
“You’re definitely going to.”
He shoots me a wink. “Worth it.”
He gives me a quick kiss and rubs softly over my growing belly. Then he takes off running after Rowen.
And for a moment, I just stand there watching them.
My boys.
My family.
My whole heart running barefoot through the grass under the sun.
And for the first time in my life
Everything finally feels exactly the way it’s supposed to.
THE END