Epilogue
COVE
Everest officially moved in, his toothbrush is beside mine. His sweatshirts are on my chair. His favorite cereal is in the cabinet. And every time I wake up tangled in his arms, I forget what it felt like to fall asleep alone.
He’s just… here. In all the best ways.
We road trip on weekends, no real destination—just snacks, playlists, and the thrill of making out in shitty gas station parking lots. We dance in the kitchen to music we don’t even like, burn pancakes we forget we’re cooking, and stay up late watching dumb videos we’ve already seen a dozen times.
The thing that wrecks me the most?
It’s not just fun. It’s peaceful. It’s safe.
He kisses me like he’s never been more certain of anything. Holds me like I’m breakable but never broken. Makes love to me like the world ended and we’re rebuilding it in the shape of us.
I’d call it a soft life if it wasn’t so damn chaotic in the margins.
Because nothing about this is simple.
We told Tanner. He was quiet for a long time. Then he said, “As long as no one’s hurting you, I don’t care who you love. Just don’t make me say the c-word.”
I burst out laughing. Everest turned beet red.
We told his mom, too. Sat her down. Braced for impact.
And she cried.
Said she was sorry for not finding me sooner. Sorry for the pain. Sorry for all of it. And then she hugged us. Said she didn’t get it, didn’t know if she ever could—but she loved us both.
My dad… is still a sore spot. I called and told him I was going to get to know his sister. He doesn’t answer my calls anymore. I’ve stopped trying.
We’re messy. A walking controversy, probably. But we’re also stronger than we’ve ever been. We figured it out together. On our terms.
I open my laptop after a cam session—heart-shaped pasties, a loyal fanbase who doesn’t know half of me—and close the window with a click.
“Come here, cousin,” I say with a smirk, glancing toward the couch.
Everest groans from the blanket nest he made on the couch with Lemon Drop, who has fully chosen him as her person. Yeah—our cat. She might technically be mine, but she treats Everest like he hung the moon. “God, don’t ever say that during sex. My dick will fall off.”
I cackle. “But it’s technically accurate. I mean—”
He throws a pillow at me. I catch it and launch myself at him, laughing like a maniac.
We collapse together, breathless and wild and alive.
“Are you still sure?” he asks against my hair, voice quieter now.
I don’t hesitate.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” I whisper back. “You’re my person. Even if no one else gets it.”
He smiles into my neck.
And just like that, we sink into the quiet kind of happy—the kind that doesn’t need permission to exist.
And we’re just getting started.