Epilogue 2 J.T
The sun is warm on the back of my neck, and the smell of cut grass and popcorn hangs in the air.
Little League fields have a particular kind of chaos to them.
Kids shouting.
Parents cheering.
Someone’s radio crackling near the snack stand.
A hot dog rolling off a paper plate somewhere behind us.
And right in the middle of it all—my stepson.
Evan McCrae—soon enough Evan Lawrence too if he decides he wants it—is out there on the diamond wearing his All-Stars jersey like he was born for it.
Kid’s good.
Damn good.
He’s got Thatcher’s arm and Kelly’s stubborn streak, which means once he sets his mind to something he doesn’t quit until the job’s done.
I lean forward on the bleachers, elbows on my knees, watching him adjust his cap in the outfield.
Thatcher’s pacing the dugout like a man who thinks this is Game Seven of the World Series.
“Relax, coach,” Greyson mutters beside me.
Thatcher shoots him a look that could peel paint.
Greyson just grins and pops another piece of popcorn into his mouth.
On the other side of him sits Clara, looking happy and calm in that quiet way newly married women sometimes do.
Willow is next to her—and I swear to God that woman looks like she might give birth right here on the bleachers.
She’s so pregnant she’s practically glowing.
Still insisted on coming, though.
“Wouldn’t miss my nephew’s big game,” she said earlier when Thatcher tried to convince her to stay home.
Right now she’s fanning herself with the scorecard and hollering louder than anyone.
“That’s it, Evan! Watch the ball!”
Behind us, Maddox is leaning against the fence, yelling like a lunatic.
“LET’S GO, EVAN! SHOW ‘EM HOW IT’S DONE!”
A couple of parents glance over.
I just chuckle.
“Tone it down, kid,” I tell him over my shoulder.
He grins.
“No way. That’s my little brother out there.”
Little brother.
That word still hits me somewhere deep in the chest every time he says it.
It’s been a couple of weeks since Kelly and I got married.
Couple weeks of real life settling in.
Couple weeks of waking up next to that woman and wondering how the hell I got so lucky.
And no sign of Mike Stevens.
Not after the packet my investigators and I delivered personally to him in a shithole over in Newark, New Jersey.
A thick little bundle of paperwork outlining every charge waiting for him if he so much as sets foot in Woodhaven again.
Plus, a fist to the stomach for being a fucking prick. I owed him that one.
Fraud.
Theft.
Statutory rape.
Custody interference.
I told Kelly it was a brief business trip. Flew to the place he was shacked up in, did what I did, and made it back home by dinner.
The need to protect my family is a marrow deep imperative.
But damn, I had to work real hard not to allow my baser instincts to take over.
And I made damn sure the message I gave Mike Stevens was crystal clear.
Come back here and your life is over.
So far?
Silence.
Which suits me just fine.
I lean back against the bleachers and finally let myself look at the woman sitting beside me.
Kelly.
My wife.
Sweet Jesus.
She’s wearing jean shorts that show off enough of her creamy thighs for it to be distracting, and a soft blue shirt that emphasizes her soft curves and brilliant eyes. Her hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, and a pair of sunglasses is pushed up on her head.
It’s nothing fancy.
Nothing showy.
But she is still the most beautiful woman on this mountain to me.
Hell. On any mountain.
I’ve loved her longer than anyone knew.
Watched her from a distance for years like a damn fool waiting for a door to open.
And now?
Now she’s mine.
I’m so completely fucked in the head over this woman it’s not even funny.
Lord knows I’d do anything she asked.
Anything at all.
The crazy part? She doesn’t use that against me.
She just loves me back.
I brush my hand up her arm slowly until I’m cupping the back of her neck.
Possessive? Yeah, I know it is.
But I can’t help myself.
I need to be touching her.
Always.
She doesn’t pull away.
Instead, she scoots a little closer, like she was expecting it, and rests her hand on my thigh, squeezing once.
A simple little touch.
But it hits me harder than a punch.
“You’re staring again,” she murmurs with a smile.
“Can’t help it.”
Out on the field, the crack of a bat echoes.
Evan takes off running for second.
The bleachers erupt.
“GO, EVAN!” Maddox roars.
Kelly jumps up cheering beside me.
“That’s my boy!”
My chest swells watching him slide into base safe.
Yeah, that’s my boy.
They’re going to win this game.
I can feel it.
Afterward, there’ll be hot dogs and popcorn and ice cream at the concession stand.
Trophies too.
Kids running around like they just won the World Series.
And after all that?
I get to take my family home.
Our place up on the mountain where the pond sits quietly behind the house. Where those two swans glide across the water every evening like they’ve got the whole world figured out.
Never alone.
Always together.
Side by side.
I watch them sometimes from the porch. Two creatures that picked each other and never looked back.
Yeah, I get that.
Because later tonight I’ll crawl into bed beside the woman who owns my damn heart.
My sweet, gorgeous, sexy-as-hell wife.
And when morning comes?
I’ll wake up with her in my arms. Like I will every single morning until the day I die. Because I know that I’m right where I belong, and with the only person in this world made for me.
Just like the pair of swans out in my pond.
That woman has my whole damn heart—and somehow, against all odds, I’ve got hers too.
My sweet Kelly.
My gorgeous, stubborn, sexy-as-hell firework of a wife.
My Honey.
She’s it for me.
There isn’t another woman walking this earth who could take her place, and I’d pity the fool who tried. Our life together? It’s everything I didn’t know I was missing and now couldn’t live without if I tried.
And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect it.
To keep it safe.
To keep her safe.
Because that’s what real love means, far as I’m concerned. It means showing up every damn day. It means standing beside the person you chose no matter what storms come rolling down the mountain. It means loving them with everything you’ve got and not apologizing for it.
I waited a long time for Kelly McCrae.
Long enough to know she’s worth every fight, every sleepless night, every wild, reckless promise I’ve ever made in her name.
And now that I’ve got her?
Well.
Let’s just say I’m not a man who gives things up once they belong to him.
Especially not the woman who owns my heart.
My Honey.
Mine.
And I’m hers.
The end.
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for joining me in Woodhaven.
Writing the Woodhaven Mountain Men series has been such a joy. From the very beginning, these rugged mountain heroes and the strong women who captured their hearts came to life in ways that made this little town feel incredibly real to me. I truly hope it felt that way for you too.
From Willow and Thatcher, whose unexpected love softened a hard heart and built a home at the sawmill…
to Greyson and Clara, whose fiery connection proved that sometimes the right person turns your whole world upside down in the best possible way…
to Kelly and J.T., who found love after heartbreak and built a family stronger than either of them ever imagined.
Each of these couples reminds me why I love writing romance so much.
Life can be messy, unpredictable, and sometimes downright painful—but love has a remarkable way of showing up exactly when we need it most. And when the right people find each other, they build something stronger than anything that came before.
I sincerely hope you enjoyed spending time on the mountain with the Woodhaven family—the laughter, the chaos, the found family, and of course the fiercely devoted mountain men who would do absolutely anything for the women they love.
Thank you for reading, for supporting my stories, and for allowing me to share this world with you. It truly means more than I can say.
Del mare alla stella,
C.D. Gorri