Epilogue #2
"Wyatt?" The voice was familiar, even after all these years. Deep, with that slight rasp that came from too much smoke inhalation and not enough water.
My hand tightened on the phone. "Cal?"
"Yeah," Cal Mercer laughed, and I could picture him perfectly—leaning against whatever surface was closest, that crooked grin that had gotten us both into and out of trouble more times than I could count. "Been a while."
"Six years," I said, my mind already calculating. Six years since I’d met him in Jasper. "What's going on? Is everything okay?"
"Everything's good. Better than good, actually." There was a pause, and I heard papers rustling in the background. "I got a promotion. Provincial Wildfire Supervisor."
"Cal, that's—" I stopped, processing. "That's huge. Congratulations."
"Thanks. Means I'll be traveling more, overseeing crews across Alberta. But here's the thing—they're stationing me regionally."
Something cold settled in my gut. I knew what he was going to say before he said it.
“They picked home,” Cal said quietly. "I'm coming back, Wyatt. End of the month."
I stared at the brewery parking lot, at the mountains in the distance turning purple in the fading light. Cal Mercer. Coming back.
"That's good," I managed. "It'll be good to have you around again."
"Yeah?" Cal's voice carried something I couldn't quite read. Relief, maybe. Or concern. "I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it. We didn't exactly leave things on the best of terms."
That was an understatement. The last time I'd seen Cal, we'd been standing in the parking lot of the Rusty Spur, both of us half-drunk and fully pissed off, saying things that probably should've ended a friendship. I'd told him he was running away. He'd told me I was burying myself alive.
Turned out we'd both been right.
"That was a long time ago," I said. "We were different people."
"Were we?" Cal asked, and there was something in his voice that made me think he'd been wondering the same thing. "I don't know, man. Some things don't change as much as we'd like to think."
I thought about Tessa. About Maddy. About the life I'd built in those six years, piece by careful piece.
"Some things do," I said.
Cal was quiet for a moment. "Are you seeing someone?"
"Yeah. Tessa. She's—" I stopped, not sure how to explain what Tessa was. What she meant. "She's everything I need."
"I'm glad," Cal said, and he sounded like he meant it. "You deserve that."
"What about you?"
"Married to the job," Cal said with a laugh that didn't quite land. "Same as always."
I leaned against the truck, watching the last of the sunlight fade. "When you get back, we should grab a drink."
"I'd like that." Cal paused. "And Wyatt? I know things are probably going to be... complicated. With me being back. But I'm hoping we can put the past behind us."
"Yeah," I said. "Me too."
We said our goodbyes, and I ended the call, staring at my phone for a long moment.
Cal Mercer was coming back.
That meant questions I thought were buried would resurface. History that stayed safely in the past would be present again. And Brooke—
I pocketed my phone and climbed into the truck. Whatever complications Cal's return would bring, I'd deal with them when the time came. Right now, I have a woman waiting for me who made everything else feel manageable.
Even the ghosts of old friendships and complicated histories.
Tessa
I finished cleaning up and was heading toward the front when I nearly ran into Brooke in the hallway. She had her phone in her hand, and her face had gone carefully blank in a way that made me pay attention.
"Everything okay?" I asked.
Brooke looked up, and for just a second, I saw something raw flicker across her expression before she smoothed it away. "Fine. Just got a call from an old friend. Someone I haven't heard from in a long time."
"Good news?"
Her laugh was short, humourless. "Complicated news." She slipped her phone into her pocket.
"Well, if you ever want to talk about it," I offered.
Brooke's smile was tight. "I appreciate that. But some things are better left in the past."
She walked away before I could respond, and I watched her go, wondering what kind of history could put that look on her face.
By the time I got home, the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Wyatt's truck was already in the driveway, and when I walked in with bags of groceries, I found him in the kitchen, already pulling out pans and ingredients.
"You weren't kidding about cooking," I said, setting the bags on the counter.
"Figured you'd had a long day." He kissed my temple as he passed by to grab an onion. "How'd the surgery go?"
"Perfect. Brooke's good. Really good."
"That's good." Wyatt started chopping with practiced ease. "You tell her about Maddy?"
"Yeah. She offered to have Jackson show Maddy around school when she starts. They're the same age."
Wyatt's hands stilled. "That's... that's really nice of her."
"Brooke's practical like that. Sees a problem, offers a solution." I hopped up onto the counter, watching him work. "She got a weird text today, too. She seemed pretty rattled by it."
"Yeah?" Wyatt's voice was carefully casual.
"She said it was complicated."
Wyatt's jaw tightened, just slightly. "Lots of complicated histories in a small town."
I studied him. "You know something.”
He looked up, meeting my eyes. "Cal Mercer’s coming back. He was a wildfire fighter before he moved up to management. Brooke used to be—" He paused. "I don't know exactly what happened, but he just up and left after the fire that she was caught in.”
The kitchen fell quiet except for the sizzle of onions hitting the hot pan.
“I remember him, he was a bit older than me,” I said finally.
“Aren’t we all,” Wyatt said flatly as he set down the knife and turned to face me, his hands bracing on either side of my thighs on the counter.
”Yes, you are old, man,” I giggled.
“Pretty sure you can’t tell I’m older.” He winked, and he was right. There wasn’t anything slowing this man down. “And right now I’m thinking about you, and me, and the fact that I get to come home to you every night."
I looped my arms around his neck. “Oh, that was sappy.”
"True though."
"Can't argue with that."
He kissed me, and I let myself forget about Maddy's impending arrival, about Cal Mercer coming back to town, about the way Brooke's face had gone carefully blank. Right now, at this moment, it was just us. Just me and Wyatt and the life we'd built together, one choice at a time.
When we finally broke apart, Wyatt rested his forehead against mine.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
"For what?"
"For choosing me."
I cupped his face in my hands. "Best choice I ever made."
And I meant it. A year ago, I'd been terrified coming back here meant giving up my independence, my strength, my sense of self.
Instead, I found all of it and more. I found home.
I found purpose. found a man who loved me without trying to own me, who gave me space to be strong while offering his strength when I needed it.
I found myself.
"Come on," I said, sliding off the counter. "Let's make dinner. And then you can show me just how much our age difference doesn’t matter ."
Wyatt's smile was soft, genuine. “All night, babe.”
I laughed and shook my head, because he wasn’t lying; it would be all night.
Outside, the sun finished setting, and inside, we made dinner in comfortable silence, side by side. Just like we would tomorrow, and the day after that, and all the days that came after.
Whatever challenges were coming, we'd face them together.
And we'd be just fine.