“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes.”
He helps me into the carriage, tucks a thick blanket over our legs, then climbs in beside me. I lean into him, my new husband warm and solid against my side. Holly waves wildly from the crowd before sprinting toward the cocoa station, slipping on snow and popping back up like a rubber ball.
Ash wraps his arm around me fully, pulling me against his chest as the horses start forward.
The sleigh glides through fresh snow, bells jingling softly, the mountains stretching endless and quiet around us. Twilight settles in, painting the sky in shades of lavender and gold.
I look up at him.
At the man who once called me a walking hazard. The man who tried not to want me. The man who now holds me like he’ll never let go.
He notices me watching and smirks. “What?”
“Still thinking about that kiss,” I say softly.
His fingers slide under my chin, turning my face to his. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because I’m nowhere near done.”
The carriage rounds a bend, drifting into deeper snow, the world silent except for the horses and our breaths mixing in the cold air.
Ash kisses me again—slow, possessive, claiming.
My husband. My fire. My forever.
And with snow falling all around us and mountains stretching wide and wild ahead, I know with absolute certainty: this is where I belong.
This is home.
This is love.
This is our forever.
Second Epilogue
Ash
ten years later
The snow falls lazy and soft, drifting down in quiet spirals that catch in the pines and melt on my bare forearms. The Phantom River moves slowly behind our cabin, dark and smooth as polished glass, carrying flecks of white along its surface like it’s collecting the sky.
It’s Christmas morning. Ten years since the day I kissed Lucy Snow in front of the firehouse and knew—bone-deep—that my entire life had just shifted.
Now I’m standing in my backyard wearing a worn flannel and thermal pants while five small Calder bodies run wild through the snow, shrieking like feral elves.
“Pine!” I bark when I catch my youngest trying to lick icicles off the deck railing. “Hey! We talked about this—no mystery ice. It’s not a snack.”
Pine grins, pale blue eyes sparkling, blond hair sticking straight up under his fuzzy hat. “But it looks like candy!”
“Doesn’t mean you eat it.”
He kicks a puff of snow in retaliation and sprints toward the firepit where the marshmallows are lined up like ammunition.
Ever is helping Winter roll the middle snowball for the giant snowman family they insisted on building. Winter runs the show, of course—pointing with her mittened hands, directing her twin like a foreman.
Joy sits cross-legged near the fire, singing to herself as she roasts a marshmallow to absolute charcoal. Holly keeps trying to fix it for her, sliding in like the adopted big sister she’s become. Holly may not be officially ours, but after her mom returned from deployment, my sister moved into Lucy’s rental cabin and Lucy moved in with me. I adopted Holly when she turned ten and my sister was deployed again—we all figured it was easier that way—I’m the only dad she’s ever known anyway. Holly’s been living with us or running back and forth between our cabins every day since and for all intents and purposes, she’s ours.
And standing in the middle of all the chaos—my wife.
Lucy stands by the firepit, coat unzipped, cheeks flushed from the cold, eyes lit with amusement as our kids attempt to out-chaos each other. She’s got marshmallow goo on her glove, snowflakes caught in her hair, and she’s glowing.
