"Me too. Even though it scared the hell out of me."
"I was so lost then. I didn't think there was anything worth living for."
"And now?"
I look up at him, at this man who saved my life in more ways than one. "Now I have everything worth living for."
He kisses me again, soft and sweet, and I melt into it. We make love again, slower this time, savoring every touch, every kiss, every whispered word of love.
Afterward, as I'm drifting off to sleep in his arms, I think about how far I've come. From that broken woman in the field to this person who's found love and hope and a reason to keep going.
I think about my book, finished and waiting. About the possibility of a future I never imagined I'd have.
And I think about Chase, this complicated, wonderful man who opened his home and his heart to me when I needed it most.
"Thank you," I whisper one more time, even though he's already asleep.
Thank you for saving me.
Thank you for loving me.
Thank you for being my home.
Epilogue
Chase
August
The sound of an engine approaching pulls me from where I'm working in the barn. I wipe my hands on my jeans and head outside, squinting against the late summer sun. It's Eli's truck, kicking up dust as it rolls down the long driveway.
"Mail delivery," he yells out when he pulls to a stop. "I had to come out and check with the Henderson's, so I thought I'd bring everyone's mail."
"Could've just left it at the road," I tell him, but I'm grinning. He's been out here a few times this year. The first time he came out, he brought the finalized divorce papers for Paisley.
"And miss seeing how you two are doing? Not a chance." He hands me a stack of envelopes and a couple of packages. "Expect to see you in the office before the bridge gets washed out again in a few months."
"Soon," I promise.
"I'll let them know. I've got some more packages to deliver."
He tips his hat and drives off with a wave, and I stand there looking down at the mail. Most of it is bills and junk, but there's a manila envelope addressed to Paisley that catches my attention. No return address, but the postmark is from New York.
I head back to the house, where Paisley is in the kitchen making bread, kneading the dough easier than she used to. Biscuit is on the counter, which she's not supposed to be, but Paisley's given up trying to enforce that rule.
"Mail came," I say, setting the stack on the table.
She looks up, flour on her cheek. "Anything interesting?"
"This is for you." I hand her the manila envelope.
Her eyes widen when she sees it, and her hands shake slightly as she takes it from me. "I wasn't expecting anything."
"You gonna open it?"
She sets down the dough and wipes her hands on a towel before carefully tearing open the envelope. Inside is a stack of papers, and as she reads, I watch her face go from curious to shocked to absolutely radiant.
"Oh my God."
