Second Epilogue
Ellie
five years later
Margie Warner doesn’t “babysit.”
Margie claims custody with a smile, a casserole dish, and the kind of authority only a woman who’s lived in Devil’s Peak for seventy years can pull off.
“Shoes,” she sings, crouching to our son’s level. “Where are your shoes, Beau?”
Beau—four years old and already stubborn enough to make Wyatt look like a beginner—plants his hands on his hips. “I don’t need shoes.”
Margie gasps like he’s insulted her bloodline. “Excuse me, young man? You’re coming to my house. My house requires shoes. Even if you’re handsome.”
Wyatt leans against the counter behind me, arms crossed, looking like he’s trying to keep a straight face. Jake sits at his feet, eyes flicking between me and my son.
Beau’s chin lifts. “I’m handsome?”
Margie nods solemnly. “Very. Unfortunately.”
Our daughter, Poppy, two and chaos in pigtails, decides this is the perfect time to sprint down the hall in socks, shrieking like a tiny siren.
“POP!” Beau yells. “WAIT!”
Poppy does not wait. Poppy is a runaway bride in toddler form.
Wyatt pushes off the counter, catching her mid-sprint with one hand around her middle and lifting her like she weighs nothing.
“Where do you think you’re going, trouble?” he murmurs into her neck.
Poppy giggles and grabs his beard with both hands. “Daddy!”
Wyatt’s eyes flick to me, warm and wicked. “She takes after you.”
I snort. “She absolutely does not.”
Wyatt’s mouth tilts. “You ran away to my cabin with a backpack and an attitude.”
I point a finger at him. “I ran away from a banker ex and into a survival plan.”
Wyatt’s eyes darken, slow. “You ran to me.”
My face warms, because five years later, his voice still does that. Still reaches under my ribs and turns everything soft and hot.
Margie claps her hands like she’s closing a deal. “Perfect. While you two flirt like teenagers, I’m taking these babies for the night.”
I glance down at my belly—round, unmistakable, third baby on the way, and apparently my body’s favorite hobby is making little Coopers.
Wyatt’s hand slides around my waist without thinking. His palm settles on the curve of my stomach like it belongs there.
It does.
“Overnight,” I repeat, pretending I don’t already feel my whole body exhale at the thought of uninterrupted sleep and adult conversation.
Margie winks. “Overnight. Because you’re pregnant, and because my town needs more Cooper babies like it needs oxygen.”
Wyatt’s low laugh rumbles. “Jesus, Margie.”
Margie points at him. “Watch your mouth. You’re a father.”
Wyatt’s gaze flicks to my belly. His voice drops. “And I’m good at it.”
My breath catches. It always does, when he says something like that like it’s fact.
Margie herds Beau toward the door with the energy of a general. Beau tries to backpedal.
“Mom?” he asks, suddenly suspicious. “Why are you smiling?”
I blink. “I’m not.”
Wyatt’s hand tightens at my waist. “She’s smiling.”
Beau narrows his eyes. “Dad, you’re smiling too.”
Wyatt’s eyebrows lift. “No, I’m not.”
Beau stares at him for a beat, then nods like he’s filing that away for blackmail later. “Okay.”
Poppy squeals and reaches for me, and I take her, kissing her warm cheek until she squishes her face against mine with sticky affection.
“I love you,” I whisper.
Poppy pats my cheek like I’m the child. “Love you, Mommy.”
Beau gives me a quick hug like it’s a business transaction. “Bye.”
Then he pauses, eyes sliding to my belly. “Is the baby coming tonight?”
I laugh. “Not tonight.”
He looks relieved. “Okay. Because Margie has cookies.”
Margie beams. “Damn right I do.”
Wyatt leans in and kisses Beau’s forehead, then Poppy’s hair. His hand slides to my cheek for a brief second—just enough to ground me—before he steps back.
Margie grabs her bag, points at me like she’s giving orders. “Eat something. Rest. And if you two break that bed, Wyatt Cooper, you’re buying me a new one.”
Wyatt’s grin turns lethal. “Margie—”
Margie waves him off. “I said what I said.”
The door closes behind them.
The shop goes quiet.
Wyatt looks at me like he’s been waiting five years for this exact silence.
My pulse jumps. “Don’t.”
His eyes flick to my mouth. “Don’t what?”
“Look at me like that,” I say, but my voice is already softer than it should be.
Wyatt takes one slow step closer. “Like my wife?”
I lift my chin, pretending. “Like your—”
“My forever bride,” he finishes, voice low.
Heat slides down my spine. Pregnancy has turned my body into a live wire. Wyatt knows it. He doesn’t push gently. He never has.
He cups my belly with one hand, thumb stroking the curve like it’s a secret. “You okay?”
I swallow. “I’m… tired.”
Wyatt’s gaze sharpens. “Then you’re coming with me.”
I blink. “Where?”
His mouth tilts. “Hot spring.”
My brows lift. “The hot spring.”
“The one I found first,” he says, voice smug. “The one I’m still not telling anyone about.”
I snort. “You told Levi once.”
Wyatt’s eyes narrow. “Levi doesn’t count. Levi forgets things on purpose.”
I laugh, then wince slightly as the baby shifts. Wyatt’s hand tightens instantly, protective.
“Easy,” he murmurs.
I glare at him. “Don’t start treating me like glass.”
Wyatt leans in close. “You’re not glass. You’re mine.”
My breath catches hard.
Five years, two kids, one baby on the way, and he still says it like that—possessive but reverent, like the word mine is a promise to protect, not a chain.
I swallow. “You’re going to get me in trouble saying things like that.”
Wyatt’s gaze drags down my body—sweater stretched over my belly, leggings, hair messy from a full day of being everyone’s everything. “You’re already in trouble.”
He kisses my mouth—slow, firm, familiar—then pulls back just enough to murmur, “Go change. Bring the robe. I’ll start the truck.”
I try to sound annoyed. “You’re bossy.”
Wyatt’s smile is wicked. “You married me.”
I mutter something under my breath and go to the back room, heart pounding like I’m not a grown woman with kids and responsibilities. Like I’m still the woman who answered an ad she shouldn’t have and found a man who didn’t let her run.
Twenty minutes later, we’re driving up the mountain with the heater blasting and Wyatt’s hand on my thigh like he owns the right.
He does.
The road is quiet, trees towering, stars starting to bloom above the peaks. Devil’s Peak turns into a different world up here—one that belongs to wind and snow and secrets.
Wyatt parks at the turnoff and kills the engine. The silence is thick and good.
He leans over and kisses me again, slower this time, as if he’s got all night and intends to use it.
I pull back, breathless. “Wyatt.”
His thumb brushes my lower lip. “Yeah.”
“We’re… hiking?” I say, because it feels safer than talking about what’s happening between us.
Wyatt’s grin turns warm. “Short walk.”
He gets out first, comes around to my side, and opens the door like a gentleman who could also snap someone in half if they looked at me wrong. He offers his hand.
I take it.
His grip is steady, warm, familiar. He guides me carefully over the snow-packed ground without making me feel fragile. It’s an art—protecting without smothering.
The hot spring sits in a natural hollow surrounded by rocks and pines, steam rising into the cold night like breath.
I stop at the edge, staring.
Even after all this time, it feels unreal—our private slice of heaven tucked into the mountain like it’s been waiting for us.
Wyatt steps behind me, arms sliding around my waist. His palm settles on my belly again, possessive in the sweetest way.
“Still ours,” he murmurs.
I lean back into him. “Still yours?”
Wyatt’s mouth brushes my ear. “Always mine.”
My skin prickles, heat pooling low.
I turn in his arms and glare at him. “You’re going to make me blush.”
Wyatt’s eyes darken. “Good.”
We undress without rushing, the steam wrapping around us like a curtain. Wyatt helps me step down into the water, his hands steady on my hips.
The warmth hits my body and I exhale so hard it’s almost a moan.
Wyatt’s gaze sharpens. “That good?”
I glare, but my voice betrays me. “Yes.”
He steps in behind me and pulls me back against his chest, water swirling around us. His arms wrap around me, one hand on my belly, the other sliding up my ribs.
I close my eyes for a beat, letting myself sink into him.
Wyatt kisses my shoulder. “You’ve been running all day.”
I snort softly. “I own a chocolate shop. I run every day.”
He nips lightly at my skin—just enough to make my breath hitch. “Not like today.”
I open my eyes and turn my head. “What do you mean?”
Wyatt’s gaze holds mine, steady. “Today you stood in front of your mother and didn’t flinch.”
My throat tightens. “I flinched.”
Wyatt shakes his head. “Not the way you used to.”
I swallow hard. “Because I’m tired of being small.”
Wyatt’s mouth curves. “You’ve never been small.”
I scoff. “Tell that to my family.”
Wyatt’s hand spreads over my belly, protective. “I don’t care what they think.”
“You would’ve,” I say quietly. “Back then.”
Wyatt’s eyes soften, just a fraction. “Back then I thought I had to be worthy of you.”
My breath catches. “Wyatt…”
He exhales and leans his forehead to mine. “I fell first,” he says again, like it’s still the truest thing he’s ever admitted. “And I spent too long trying to bury it.”
I cup his jaw, thumb brushing his beard. “Then stop burying.”
Wyatt’s gaze drops to my mouth. “I did.”
I kiss him.
It starts slow, sweet, familiar—then deepens the way it always does with us, hunger catching like a spark in dry pine.
Wyatt’s hands tighten at my waist, and he pulls me onto his lap against the rock ledge, water spilling around us. He looks at me like I’m the only thing he’s ever wanted.
I breathe out, shaky. “You’re staring.”
Wyatt’s voice is low. “I’m memorizing.”
I try to sound flippant, but it comes out breathy. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Wyatt’s eyes go dark. “I know.”
His mouth claims mine again—slow, possessive, all-consuming—until my hands are in his hair and my body is arching into him without dignity.
He pulls back just enough to murmur against my lips, “You okay?”
I nod, swallowing. “Yes.”
His hand slides to my belly, gentler now. He presses a kiss there, reverent.
“I’ll remind you every day,” he says, voice rough with feeling. “You’re my forever bride.”
My throat tightens. “Wyatt…”
He looks up at me, eyes bright in the starlight. “I mean it. You chose me. I choose you back—every morning, every night, every time this family grows.”
I exhale a shaky laugh. “You’re going to make me cry.”
Wyatt’s mouth tilts. “Cry later.”
Then he kisses me again, and the mountain disappears.
Steam wraps around us. Stars burn overhead. Wyatt moves with slow, steady devotion, making me feel wanted and safe at the same time, like the two things were always meant to coexist.
When I gasp his name, he murmurs, “That’s it,” like praise.
When I clutch his shoulders, he holds me tighter, like I can’t fall.
And when the water ripples around us and my body shakes with pleasure and relief and love, Wyatt presses his forehead to mine and breathes, “Mine,” like it’s a prayer.
After, we stay in the hot spring with our bodies tangled, the cold air biting at our shoulders and the water keeping us warm.
Wyatt’s palm rests on my belly, thumb stroking slow circles.
I tilt my head, watching him. “You’re thinking.”
Wyatt’s mouth curves. “I’m calculating.”
I lift a brow. “That sounds dangerous.”
His eyes go wicked. “It is.”
I snort. “What are you calculating?”
Wyatt kisses my shoulder, then murmurs, “How many mountain babies we can make under these stars.”
I choke on a laugh. “Wyatt!”
He grins, unrepentant. “Maybe a dozen by the time we’re done.”
I smack his chest lightly. “We are not having twelve children.”
Wyatt’s hand tightens at my waist, pulling me closer. “You say that now.”
I glare at him, but I’m smiling. “I’m serious.”
Wyatt’s gaze drags down my face like he’s already decided my seriousness is adorable. “So am I.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re insane.”
Wyatt kisses my mouth, slow and deep. “You married me anyway.”
I pull back, breathless. “I did.”
Wyatt’s eyes soften, just a fraction. “And you’d do it again.”
I cup his jaw, thumb brushing his beard. “I would.”
Wyatt’s hand presses to my belly, steady and warm. “Good.”
Then he kisses me again under the stars, and the mountain keeps our secret like it always has. Like it always will. Forever.
The End
Turn the page for another spicy and sweet love story in Ignite, from the Devil’s Peak Fire & Rescue series.