She reaches across the console. Her hand finds mine. "I've been running for two years. You made me want to stop."
We sit like that. Hands clasped. Breathing together. The future spreading out in front of us like unmarked snow waiting for tracks.
"I want a future," I say. "With you."
"Me too."
I exhale. Something shifts in my chest—grief making room for want. For hope. For whatever comes next.
We go inside. The cabin is cold. I build a fire while Harlow makes coffee. Domestic tasks that feel significant because we're doing them together. Because this is what the future looks like. Coffee and firewood and someone to share the quiet with.
When the fire catches and the coffee is ready, we sit on the couch. Close enough to touch but not touching yet. Processing what we just committed to.
"Practical details," she says. "I already accepted the consulting contract. Six months to implement the new security system at the mine. After that, I can build out the business. Take on other sites."
"You could work out of here. Use the cabin as a base. There's space for an office."
"You're offering to let me move in?"
"I'm offering to build a life together. That includes shared space." I set my coffee down. "Emma and I were saving for a house in town. Something with space for the life we wanted. After she died, I couldn't stand the idea of that house without her. So I built this instead."
"As a refuge."
"As somewhere to bury myself while I hunted her killer." The fire crackles. Heat spreads through the room. "But it doesn't have to be that anymore. It could be home. If you want it to be."
Harlow is quiet for a long moment. Then she smiles. "I want it to be home."
My shoulders drop. Tension I didn't know I was holding releases. I pull her close. She fits against me like she belongs there. Her head on my shoulder. My arm around her waist. Two broken people finding wholeness together.
Later, when she's exploring the cabin, I start gathering the photographs from the shelves. Emma smiling at the camera. Emma and me on our wedding day. Emma in her nursing scrubs.
"What are you doing?" Harlow asks.
"Putting these away. Didn't think you'd want them all over the place."
She crosses to me. Takes the frame from my hands and sets it back on the shelf. "Emma will always be part of your life. I'm not afraid of ghosts, Rhys. And I'm definitely not asking you to erase your past."
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure." She traces the edge of the frame. "Baker's things are still in storage in Virginia. I couldn't throw them away, but I couldn't keep them either. Maybe it's time to bring some of them here."
"That's not weird?"
"It's honest." She turns to face me. "We both loved people we lost. That doesn't go away just because we found each other."
I pull her close. "We get to be happy. That's what they'd want."
"Yeah. They would."
She kisses me. Her hands slide up my chest to cup my face, thumbs brushing my trimmed beard. The kiss starts gentle but builds quickly into something fiercer. Claiming. Her teeth catch my lower lip and I groan, fingers tightening on her hips. She tastes like coffee and want. When she pulls back, we're both breathing hard.
"I love you," she says against my mouth.
"Love you too."
When we break apart, she notices something. Her fingers trace my jaw where the beard is trimmed close.
"You've been maintaining it," she says.
