“I made it for you.” His voice was rough and raw. “The steel came from a rail spike I found on an old mining trail out wherethe lumber mill used to be. The antler’s from the first deer I hunted after I moved here. It’s not just a knife—it’s a piece of this place. A piece of me.”
Tears welled in my eyes. “You didn’t have to?—”
“I did.” He stepped closer. “You’re staying. This is your home now. And you should have something that connects you to it. To me.”
I ran my fingers over the carvings, then looked up at him. “I love it. I love what it means.”
He exhaled slowly. “I love you.”
The tears finally fell. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
His arms wrapped around me, steady and warm, anchoring me in a way nothing else ever had.
“I never thought I’d have someone,” he murmured. “But you… you feel like mine.”
I smiled, blinking back more tears. “That’s good. Because you’re mine too.”
Everyone told me the mountain was too wild to be tamed. But maybe it just needed someone who could see the beauty in its wildness. And someone stubborn enough to stay.
EPILOGUE
GRIFF
Four Months Later
I wasn’t meantfor crowds.
Wasn’t meant for polished floors, walls covered in pictures, or strangers shaking my hand like I was some damn local hero. But Juniper wanted to host her first photo exhibit in town, and there was no way in hell I wouldn’t be there for her.
So, I stood in the back of the gallery, boots clean but still caked with a little dried mud, arms crossed while people murmured in front of her work like her lens had captured something the rest of us had forgotten how to see. With or without her camera, she had that gift. After all, she’d seen me.
Juniper stood across the room, laughing at something Miss Lila said, cheeks flushed, hair tucked behind one ear. She looked like she belonged in a place like this. Surrounded by light and art and people who smiled for no reason. She fit in anywhere she went.
And for some reason, she’d chosen me. I knew better than to take that for granted. I’d been living half a life until she stepped into my world, and I never wanted to go back.
The summer had been full of changes.
We’d gutted the lodge together—new wiring, fresh paint, updated plumbing. She took photos of every step. I built two cabins, upgraded the woodstove, and made a deal with a few seasonal guides to run survival skills weekends. She wanted to share the beauty of the place with others. The lodge was no longer just a memory of her uncle. It would live on.
Mama Mae came to stay for a week and almost didn’t leave. Said she liked the fresh air and escaping the heat of a Texas summer. I caught her teaching Clara how to make jalapeño peach jam and organizing Bingo night at the Rusty Elk. Jack joked she had enough energy to take over the whole damn mountain if we let her.
I was sad to see her go, but she winked at me and promised she’d be back for the wedding. Though Juniper and I hadn’t talked about that yet, it was just a matter of time. She already owned my heart and soul.
Juniper waved me over from across the gallery, but I just nodded. She knew I’d rather eat dirt than play charming host. I watched her from a distance instead, appreciating how she moved between guests, how she lit up every time someone complimented her work. She didn’t need me in her spotlight.
But when she finally walked over and slipped her hand into mine, I felt steadier. Like the ground had stopped shifting.
“You ready to get out of here?” she asked.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
We left town after dark. Stars dusted the sky, the crunch of tires against gravel the only sound.
Juniper curled her hand around mine and let out a contented sigh. “Did you ever think this would be your life?”
I had to chuckle. The difference between what I thought my future would look like a year ago versus the impossible dreams I now held in my heart were light years apart. “Never in a million years.”
“Me neither.”
