EPILOGUE
RHODES
Spring comes late to Wilder Mountain, but when it arrives, it arrives loud.
Snowmelt rushes down in silver ribbons.
The grass grows greener every hour.
Birds argue in the pines like they have serious opinions about the weather.
And the ranch—my ranch—feels alive again.
So do I.
We’re all out riding today.
Me.
Jovie.
Her dad.
Three horses kicking up soft dust on the ridge trail behind the barn. The morning sun feels like warm syrup on my shoulders, and the wind smells like new grass and hope.
Her dad sits tall in the saddle. Tall and proud.
Like he was born for this and somehow just forgot until now.
“If you’d told me six months ago I’d be doing this again,” he calls over his shoulder, “I’d have said you’d been drinking too much of that Christmas cider.”
Jovie laughs. God, her laugh. It still does something deep to me. “You look like a real cowboy,” she teases.
He tips his hat. “Feel like one too.”
My chest tightens in the best way.
“You gave him this,” she murmurs to me, nudging her horse closer.
I shake my head. “He gave himself this. He just needed a trail to follow.”
She smiles softly. “You’re humble to a fault.”
“And you’re impossible to argue with.”
We ride to the crest where the land opens wide. New fences stretch across the north pasture, the ones we built together after the winter thaw. Jovie had been there every day—hammer in hand, cheeks flushed, hair in a messy ponytail that killed me every time I looked at her.
She didn’t just fit here.
She grew roots.
Both feet.
Whole heart.
She never did move back to the city after Christmas.
Her “temporary remote work arrangement” became permanent before either of us realized she’d never actually left.
Her digital marketing company launched in February.
Her client list grows every week.
Sometimes I find her on the porch with her laptop and a thermos of coffee, explaining SEO strategy to a skincare brand while chickens peck around her boots.
And somehow, she still has time to help transform the ranch.
New excursions.
Photography retreats.
Weekend workshops.
Spring horse clinics that have bookings into next year.
She’s the one who built the website.
She’s the one who pitched the wedding venue idea.
She’s the one who brought the ranch into the twenty-first century without losing one ounce of the soul that makes it ours.
She’s the reason we’re thriving.
She’s the reason I’m thriving.
“Dad!” she shouts suddenly. “Where are you going?”
We look up just in time to see her father swing his horse toward a lone black calf that wandered out of the herd. The man actually kicks up dust chasing after it, whooping like a teenager on prom night.
“Look at him go,” I say, laughing.
Jovie wipes at her eyes. “He’s… happy,” she whispers. “You’ve given him a new life.”
I look at her. God, she’s beautiful.
Wind in her hair.
Sun on her cheeks.
Love in her eyes.
“You’re the one who changed my life,” I say quietly. “You and him. You brought something back to this place I didn’t realize I’d lost.”
She looks at me then.
Really looks.
Her breath catches.
I wasn’t planning to ask her today.
I had a whole thing in mind.
Lanterns.
The barn strung with lights.
Dinner by the fire.
The ring hidden in a box under her favorite pine.
But as she watches her dad ride after that calf—laughing, alive, full of everything she hoped for—I know I can’t wait through one more perfect moment.
Or one more imperfect one.
Or one more hour.
Hell, I can’t wait through one more heartbeat.
I swing off my horse.
Jovie blinks. “Rhodes? What are you—?”
“Stay there,” I say.
I walk toward her, the grass soft under my boots, the sky wide and clean above us. My heart beats hard. Not from fear. From certainty.
She slides off her horse too, meeting me halfway.
“Rhodes?” she whispers. Her eyes are already shining.
I take her hands in mine.
“I wasn’t going to do it like this,” I admit. “I had a plan. A whole big plan with candles, a sunset, and maybe even a bottle of something bubbly.”
Her laugh is soft. “Rhodes—”
“But I can’t wait.” My voice breaks. “I don’t want to wait another minute to ask you this.”
Her breath catches hard enough I feel it.
I squeeze her hands.
“You came up this mountain trying to give your dad a dream,” I say. “And along the way, you gave me one too. You brought life back to this ranch. You built something with me. You stayed when you didn’t have to. You choose this place every day. You choose us.”
I swallow.
“You’re home to me, Jovie.”
Her eyes overflow.
“I love you,” I say, voice low and honest. “I love you so damn much it scares me in the best way. And I want every spring, every Christmas, every stupid blizzard with you. I want all of it.”
I drop to one knee in the soft grass.
Her hands fly to her mouth.
“Marry me,” I say. “Make this home yours too. Forever.”
For a single breath, the whole world holds still.
The horses. The breeze. The sun. My mountain. No, our mountain.
And then—finally. One word breaks through it all.
“Yes,” she whispers. “Rhodes—yes. Yes.”
I stand fast, pull her into my arms, and kiss her like she’s the only thing the earth bothered making that day.
She melts into me, laughing and crying, and I hold her tighter. Our horses snort behind us. Her dad whoops from across the pasture, probably chasing the calf in celebration now.
Jovie pulls back just enough to look at me, cheeks glowing.
“I love you,” she says. “I love you so much.”
I brush my thumb across her cheek. “Good,” I whisper. “Because I’m never letting you go.”
She laughs again—bright, wild, happy—before kissing me once more.
With the whole mountain blooming around us,
and her father riding circles in the grass,
and the spring sun warming the world awake…
I know with absolute certainty that this woman is my whole damn future. And her love is the greatest gift I’ll ever get.