Epilogue
Wyatt
one week later
Devil’s Peak lines up for two things without being asked: fires and gossip.
Today it’s neither.
Today it’s chocolate.
The morning sun hits the front windows of Devil’s Kiss like a blessing, catching the gold letters on the sign and throwing warm light across the sidewalk where half the town has apparently decided this is their new holiday.
There are boots and parkas and coffee cups, people shifting from foot to foot like they’re waiting for concert tickets instead of truffles.
Ellie stands behind the counter in a black apron that fits her like armor, hair up, cheeks flushed, eyes bright in that way that makes my chest go tight.
She looks like she belongs here. Because she does.
And she looks like she knows it now.
I’m posted near the front, arms crossed, pretending I’m not watching every face that walks in, pretending I’m not scanning for threats out of habit.
The deputy nods at me from the corner where he’s “just grabbing coffee,” and Levi keeps hovering by the display case like a starving man who found religion.
Sadie catches my eye from the doorway and lifts a brow as if to say, You good?
I nod once.
I’m better than good.
I’m wrecked.
Ellie’s smile turns on when she sees the crowd and her shoulders lift, not with fear this time, but with pride. She turns to Levi. “One box per person.”
Levi clutches his chest. “Ellie. I’m a firefighter.”
“Exactly,” she says, deadpan. “You don’t need sugar and heroism.”
Saxon Cole appears like he owns the air, in a crisp uniform shirt, hands in his pockets, calm as a judge. He gives Ellie a slow nod. “Looks good.”
Ellie smiles at him—real, not polite. “Thanks, Captain.”
Saxon’s gaze flicks to me for half a beat. It’s the same look he gave me in his office when he warned me about obsession, except this time it’s… different. Less warning. More acceptance.
“Cooper,” he says.
“Captain,” I answer.
He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t have to. He just steps aside and lets the town in like this is how it’s supposed to be.
Because maybe it is.
The bell jingles, and two women walk in who don’t belong in Devil’s Peak. Too polished. Too sharp. City perfume cutting through cocoa and coffee. One of them has Ellie’s eyes. The other has Ellie’s mouth, the same tight line it makes when she’s bracing for impact.
Ellie stills behind the counter. Not frozen. Just… ready.
Her mother sweeps her gaze over the shop like she’s inspecting a mistake. “So,” she says, voice crisp. “This is it.”
Ellie doesn’t flinch. “This is it.”
Her sister’s eyes dart to me, then away, like she’s deciding whether I’m a phase. “We heard about… everything,” she says, careful.
Ellie leans her elbows on the counter, unapologetic. “Yeah. I’m sure you did.”
Her mother presses her lips together. “We offered you a room.”
Ellie’s smile is all teeth. “You offered me a lecture.”
“That’s not fair,” the sister says.
Ellie shrugs. “It’s accurate.”
I watch Ellie’s hands. They’re steady. Not trembling.
Not clenching. Steady like she’s finally standing on her own ground.
Wade and Ellie moved to Devil’s Peak from Denver a decade ago and as far as I know, no one in their family has visited them here once.
This is the first time I’m seeing this woman after a decade of friendship with Wade.
Her mother’s gaze flicks to my hand, where my wedding band sits like a quiet statement. “And this… marriage.”
Ellie’s eyes sharpen. “Is not up for debate.”
Her mother’s brow lifts. “Ellie. Be serious.”
Ellie straightens, and there’s a heat in her voice that makes the whole shop feel smaller. “I have never been more serious in my life.”
Her sister’s mouth parts. “Ellie—”
Ellie cuts her off gently, which is new. “No. I’m done doing the thing where I shrink so you can feel tall. I built this. I kept it. I fought for it. And I’m not embarrassed of how.”
Her mother’s gaze flicks to me again. “You think this man—”
Ellie’s voice goes quiet and deadly. “He’s not a ‘this man.’ He’s Wyatt. My husband.”
I take one step closer—not to speak for her, just to be there. Ellie’s shoulder brushes my chest, and she doesn’t move away.
Her mother’s nostrils flare. “You’re choosing a life that’s small.”
Ellie laughs once, soft. “No. I’m choosing a life that’s mine.”
A beat of silence.
Then Ellie gestures toward the crowd, the shelves, the warm glow of the shop. “Look around. This isn’t small.”
Her sister swallows, eyes shiny. “It’s… really beautiful.”
Ellie’s expression softens. Just a fraction. “I know.”
Her mother’s gaze hardens, but it can’t stick. Not here. Not with the town lined up and Ellie standing in the middle of her dream like she’s dared the universe to take it again.
Finally, her mother says, stiffly, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Ellie meets her gaze. “I do.”
And then she turns away, moving down the line of customers like her mother is background noise. Like criticism is just static she doesn’t need to tune into anymore.
I watch her for a second too long.
Levi elbows me lightly. “She’s scary.”
“She’s perfect,” I answer.
Levi grins. “Yeah, okay, Romeo.”
Sadie appears beside Levi and slides him a boxed assortment. “One.”
Levi clutches it like a newborn. “Bless you.”
Sadie’s eyes flick to me. “You good?”
I nod once. “She’s good.”
Sadie’s mouth tilts. “Yeah. She is.”
The day runs hot and sweet and loud. The town buys chocolate and tells Ellie they’re proud of her like they’ve been waiting to say it for years. People take selfies with the sign. Mrs. Hargrove tries to pretend she didn’t start a rumor and fails at it.
By the time the last customer leaves, Ellie’s cheeks are flushed and her hair is messy and her smile is soft in the way that makes me want to put my hands on her and never let go.
She locks the door, flips the sign to CLOSED, and turns.
Her gaze finds me immediately.
Not because she needs protection.
Because she wants me.
“I’ve been thinking about your offer.”
“Oh?”
“To annul our marriage.”
“Oh.”
“And I’ve made a decision.”
“Yeah?” I brace myself for the worst. She’s leaving. She doesn’t need me anymore. After everything she can stand on her own two feet and doesn’t want me in her life.
“I’ve decided that you’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’m yours and your mine. Forever. You’re stuck with me.”
“Oh.” I exhale a relieved breath. “Good, because I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Good. I thought you might say that.” She smiles softly, pressing on her toes to kiss my cheek. “Now help me clean up.”
“I’ll do whatever you tell me,” I answer, because it’s true and because her eyes go darker when I say it.
Ellie steps closer, slow and sure. “Careful. I might start believing you.”
I lift a brow. “You should.”
She exhales a laugh, then reaches up and grips the front of my shirt. “You were quiet today.”
“I was watching,” I say.
“Were you?” Her eyes flick down to my mouth, then back up. “Or were you trying not to look like you wanted to drag me into the back room?”
My jaw tightens. “Don’t start.”
Ellie’s smile turns wicked. “Why not?”
“Because I will.”
Her breath catches—tiny, involuntary.
Then she lets go and steps back like she didn’t just light a match and toss it at gasoline. “Come on, firefighter. Take me home.”
Home.
The word lands heavy in my chest.
We drive back up the mountain with the last light bleeding out behind the peaks. Ellie hums with the radio like she’s always belonged in my truck, like she didn’t arrive here terrified and desperate and furious at the world.
She rests her hand on my thigh halfway up the road.
Not gripping. Not clinging.
Claiming.
I keep my eyes on the road, but my voice roughens. “You’re playing with me.”
Ellie’s fingers flex lightly on my leg. “No.”
“Then what are you doing?”
Her eyes are on me, and her voice goes soft. “Choosing.”
The cabin is warm when we get inside, quiet in the way it’s supposed to be. Not the scary quiet from those first nights. A safe quiet. A lived-in quiet.
Ellie kicks off her boots and turns to face me.
She’s still in her apron. Still smells like cocoa and sugar and victory.
I step closer, and this time I don’t stop a foot away. I put my hands on her waist, feel her body under my palms, feel her exhale like she’s been waiting for it.
Ellie’s eyes lift to mine. “I’m still wearing your flannel.”
“I know,” I murmur.
She swallows. “You going to tell me to take it off?”
I slide my hands up her ribs, slow. “No.”
Her brows lift. “No?”
“I’m going to take my time,” I say.
Ellie’s lips part. “Bossy.”
“Always.”
She pushes at my chest lightly. “Wyatt.”
I catch her wrists and pin them gently against my shirt. Not rough. Just firm enough to make her eyes flare.
“What,” I ask.
Her voice is breathy, but steady. “Tell me the truth.”
I hold her gaze. “About what.”
“About why you posted the ad,” she says. “About why you didn’t send me away.”
My jaw tightens. I don’t look away. I don’t soften it.
“I fell first,” I say.
Ellie stills.
I keep going because she deserves it clean. “Years ago. Before you had a shop. Before you stopped being Wade’s kid sister and started being… you.”
Ellie’s throat works. “Wyatt—”
“I tried to bury it,” I admit. “Because Wade is my brother in everything but blood. Because you were off-limits. Because wanting you felt like betrayal.”
Ellie’s eyes shine, but she doesn’t cry. She never does when it counts. She just steps closer until her body presses into mine. “You know why Graham and I broke up? Because I wouldn’t have sex with him, I wanted to wait until marriage.”
An angry growl escapes my throat before I can stop it. “I should have killed him.”
“I love that you’re not like him, that you’d never pressure me, that you’re not angry and mean and bitter and selfish. You cherish me, I’ve never felt so…loved.”
“I…I’ve loved you for longer than you know.”
“Why didn’t you tell me back then?” she asks quietly.