To love.
To keep.
To come home to.
EPILOGUE
Crewe
A few weeks later Riley and I head into Cupid City. It’s the kind of city that looks like it was built to make cynics roll their eyes.
Heart-shaped streetlights. Valentine banners strung between palm trees. A fountain downtown that someone actually dyed pink. The air smells like sugar and sunscreen and trouble.
I should hate it.
I don’t—because Riley’s hand is in mine, and she’s smiling like the world finally stopped trying to take things from her long enough to let her breathe.
We’re here on purpose. Not running. Not hiding.
Meeting family.
Riley squeezes my fingers as we step into the hotel lobby, her shoulder brushing my arm like she belongs there. Like shebelongswith me. I still get hit with that—how natural it feels. How dangerous it would’ve felt a month ago.
Now it’s just… mine.
Not ownership.
Home.
Mack is easy to spot across the lobby—because Mack Hawthorne has never met subtlety and isn’t planning to start today. He’s tall, broad, loud even when he isn’t speaking, leaning against a column like he’s posing for a recruitment poster. Dark hair, dark grin, that signature Hawthorne chaos in his hazel eyes.
He sees me and pushes off the column with a grin that’s already trouble.
“There he is,” he calls, stepping in like a storm with boots. “The family’s resident ice statue. Still alive, Crewe?”
“Barely,” I deadpan.
Mack laughs and wraps me in a quick hug that’s half affection, half headlock. Then he releases me and his gaze slides to Riley. His grin shifts—less wild, more assessing. Protective, in the way my brothers are without thinking about it.
“So you’re Riley.”
Riley holds her hand out, polite, but there’s a glint in her eyes that tells me she’s not intimidated by the Hawthorne energy. “I am.”
Mack shakes her hand. “I like you already. You look like you’d insult Crewe’s coffee and survive.”
“I have,” Riley says. “Multiple times.”
Mack barks a laugh. “Perfect. Welcome to the family.”
Nash appears from the elevators like he owns the building—quiet, controlled, oldest-brother gravity. He looks the same as always: steady eyes, broad shoulders, the kind of calm that makes everyone else stand up straighter without realizing why.
Delaney Coleman stands next to him. She always has. They were inseparable as kids, and now it looks like not much has changed.
Nash’s gaze meets mine, and something unspoken passes between us: we’re here for a reason.
“Crewe,” he says, clasping my shoulder once. Then his eyes shift to Riley. A beat of inspection, not unkind. “Riley. Thank you for keeping him human.”
Riley blinks, then smiles softly. “I’m trying.”
