“I made the band,” he says quietly. “Moira helped me find the stones. I wanted it to be... you. Something beautiful and strong and completely one-of-a-kind.”
I’m crying. Of course I’m crying.
“Finn—”
“I know it’s fast. I know we’ve only been doing this for a year, and that’s nothing compared to?—“
“Yes.”
He stops. Blinks. “I didn’t ask yet.”
“Then ask.”
He laughs—that same bright, unexpected sound that still catches me off guard every time. Then he drops to one knee on the porch of the ranger station, holding the ring box like it contains his heart.
Which, I suppose, it does.
“Marcella Campos. Will you marry me?”
“Yes.” I’m laughing and crying at the same time, hauling him to his feet so I can kiss him properly. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.”
The ring slides onto my finger like it was always meant to be there. Because it was. Because he made it for me, with his own hands, the same way he’s made a space for me in his life and his home and his heart.
He’s holding me, both of us shaking, and I realize—this is the moment. The moment I’ve been waiting for without knowing I was waiting. The moment when the last wall finally comes down.
“Finn.”
“Yeah?”
I pull back just enough to look at him. His face is open, hopeful, still slightly disbelieving that I said yes. This man who thought he didn’t deserve love. Who pushed me away because he was afraid of losing me. Who drove through a city he hates and fought through a year of therapy and learned to ask for help when he needed it.
This man who has said “I love you” a thousand times and never once demanded I say it back.
“I love you.”
The words come out steady. Sure. Nothing like the terrified whisper I always imagined.
Finn goes completely still.
“Say that again.”
“I love you.” And now I’m crying harder, but I’m also laughing, because his face—God, his face. “I’ve wanted to say it for months. But I needed to be sure. I needed to know this was real, that you weren’t going to leave, that I wasn’t going to wake up one day and find out I’d made the same mistake again.”
“And now?” His voice is barely a whisper.
“Now I know.” I cup his face in my hands, this beautiful, broken, brave man who put himself back together so he could love me properly. “I love you, Finn McGrath. All of you. The broken parts and the healing parts and everything in between. I love the way you build things and the way you burn pancakes and the way you count your breaths when the world gets too loud. I love that you came after me even when you were terrified. I love that you keep trying, every single day, even when it’s hard.”
He kisses me—deep and desperate and tasting like tears.
“I’ve been waiting a year to hear that,” he says against my lips.
“I know. I’m sorry it took so long.”
“Don’t be.” He pulls back, and his eyes are shining. “It was worth the wait.”
Behind us, through the window, I hear Coralyn shriek with excitement. Moira is probably filming the whole thing for blackmail purposes later.
I don’t care.
