Briar steps into my side. “You good?”
“Always,” I say, sliding my hand into hers. “With you.”
She blushes—the same way she did the first time I kissed her outside that burning hotel, the first time she told me she loved me, the first time she said “I do.”
“Let’s walk,” I say.
She nods.
The Phantom River is quiet this time of night.
Snow blankets the banks, powder glistening under the moon. The water moves slow and dark, reflecting silver ripples from the sky. Our breath hangs in the air, mixing like it always does.
Briar squeezes my hand as we walk the narrow trail along the river’s edge.
“This is perfect,” she murmurs.
“It is,” I say—though I’m not looking at the scenery at all.
Only her.
Her hair is tucked into her scarf, cheeks rosy from the cold, lips forming a soft little smile that’s equal parts nostalgia and wonder.
“This used to be where I’d come to clear my head,” I say quietly. “Before you.”
She tilts her head. “And now?”
I lift her hand to my mouth, brushing a slow kiss across her knuckles.
“Now you’re the place I go to breathe.”
Her steps falter.
Her eyes shine.
She presses into my side, her voice small. “You always know how to undo me.”
“That’s the idea.”
We stop at the river bend, the moon bright above us, the water whispering softly below.
Briar leans into me, head on my shoulder.
“Five years,” she says. “Can you believe it?”
I wrap my arms around her waist from behind, pulling her into my chest. “Feels like my whole life and no time at all.”
She laughs gently.
Her fingers lace over mine at her stomach. “I never thought I’d have this. A family. Holidays. A marriage that feels like home.”
“You built this,” I murmur against her hair. “I just stepped into it.”
She turns in my arms, looking up at me, eyes warm and bright.
“You saved me, Saxon.”
I shake my head. “No. I loved you. There’s a difference.”
