“You needed air too?”
Ivy’s voice carried from behind him. Her vanilla-and-sunshine scent brought immediate comfort. Henry turned, finding her watching him with an adorable smirk on her face. She didn’t speak again, just moved to stand beside him at the railing, her shoulder barely brushing his arm. Without conscious thought, his hand found hers. The gesture felt as natural as breathing. Her fingers intertwined with his. “I’m so proud of you, Ivy. Of what you built.”
She squeezed his hand as they watched shadows creep across the forest. “The threat’s not over. We both know that.”
He turned to her, studying the determined set of her jaw, the brightness in her hazel eyes that no amount of danger seemed to dim. “I can face any threat with you by my side.”
They returned inside where the celebration continued. Almost immediately, Henry’s cousin Joy materialized at his elbow, her eyes dancing with mischief.
“Look at you, actively participating in a social event.”
Henry stiffened, suddenly aware that he had indeed been standing in the middle of the crowd rather than hugging the walls as usual. When had that happened?
“Having someone worth staying for changes things,” he heard himself admit.
Joy’s eyebrow rose at his unexpected candor. “Well, well. The hermit learned to speak in complete sentences.”
She glanced around the room, then leaned closer. “Angela says she’s never seen someone work through dusty county files withsuch focus. Those property records really helped expose Porter’s network.”
Henry shrugged, uncomfortable with praise for simply doing what needed to be done. “Someone had to connect the dots.”
“Finding your mate changes everything,” Joy observed, her teasing tone softening into something more genuine. “I hope I find mine soon.”
His gaze found Ivy across the room, watching as she explained something to a group of environmental officials, her hands moving expressively. Eight weeks ago, he would have dismissed her enthusiasm as naive optimism. Now he saw the strength beneath her sunshine—the iron will that had refused to let threats and sabotage defeat her vision.
“You will, Joy. And it does change everything. I never thought I’d care so much about any of this.”
“I’ve never seen you this content,” Joy said.
The truth of her words settled into his chest. “She makes me want to be a better man.”
Before Joy could respond, the master of ceremonies called for attention. Ivy took her place at the podium, her sunshine-yellow dress catching the light as she moved. Camera flashes popped across the crowd, but her radiant smile remained genuine rather than posed.
Ivy took a moment to survey the gathered faces—construction workers who’d rebuilt after the vandalism, families eager to explore, reporters scribbling notes, and officials from surrounding communities who’d come to witness what Fate Mountain had accomplished.
“Today marks not just the opening of a building,” Ivy began, her voice clear and warm, “but the beginning of a conversation between people and the wilderness that sustains us.”
She gestured to the expansive windows framing the forest beyond. “Look around you. These walls were designed to blur the boundaries between inside and outside. Because that’s what we need to remember—there is no separation between us and nature. What happens to these forests happens to us all.”
A breeze filtered through the open doors, carrying the scent of pine. Ivy’s eyes sparkled as she continued.
“When we first broke ground on this project, I had a vision of children learning about ecosystems through touch and exploration instead of textbooks. I imagined families discovering the wonders of Fate Mountain together.” She paused, her expression growing more serious. “What I didn’t imagine was that we’d also learn powerful lessons about community resilience and the importance of standing together against those who would exploit our natural resources for profit.”
She turned slightly, acknowledging the construction crew with a nod. “To everyone who worked double shifts after the vandalism, who believed in this project enough to rebuild what others tried to destroy—thank you isn’t enough, but it’s what I have to offer.”
“To the businesses of Fate Mountain who supported us,” she continued, looking toward Max and Laney, “who recognized that their own struggles were connected to ours—you’ve shown us that true strength comes from unity, not isolation.”
Ivy’s gaze drifted to Maya Wilson, who stood near the wildlife corridor exhibit. “And to those who once opposed this center but found common ground with us—you remind us that differing perspectives don’t have to divide us. They can make us stronger, more complete in our understanding.”
Her voice softened as she addressed the children scattered throughout the audience. “To our youngest visitors—this center belongs to you most of all. The lessons you learn here, the connections you make with this mountain, will shape how you care for it long after we’re gone.”
Ivy’s eyes found Henry’s for a brief moment, something intimate passing between them despite the crowded room.
“I’ve learned so much during this journey,” she said, her voice taking on a thoughtful quality. “I’ve always believed in seeing the best in people. But I’ve come to understand that true optimism isn’t about ignoring darkness—it’s about choosing to kindle light anyway.”
She straightened, her posture reflecting the strength beneath her sunny exterior. “This nature center stands as proof that when we combine hope with vigilance we create something powerful enough to withstand those who would tear it down.”
Ivy raised her hand toward the main exhibition hall. “Today, we open these doors not just to visitors, but to a future where Fate Mountain’s treasures are protected by those who truly understand their value. A future that ensures that generations to come will experience the same wonder we feel standing in these ancient forests.”
