“I will,” Briggs said, and the certainty in his voice made my heart squeeze.
Preston nodded once, then turned and walked out the door. Through the window, I watched him climb into his silver sedan,sit there for a moment with his hands on the steering wheel, and then pull out of the parking lot.
He didn’t look back.
I let out a breath. “It’s over.”
“It’s over,” Briggs agreed.
I turned to him, and the smile that spread across my face felt like it came from somewhere deep—somewhere that had been locked up tight for a long time.
“I can’t believe I did that.”
“Believe it.” He pulled me into his arms, right there in the middle of the roadhouse. “You were incredible.”
“I feel incredible.” I pressed my face into his chest, breathing him in. “Like I can finally breathe.”
He held me close, one hand stroking my hair. Outside, the mountain sun was shining on the town that had become my home—the town I’d driven to on a whim, hoping to find space and finding so much more instead.
“So,” Briggs said, pulling back to look at me. “What now?”
I grinned up at him. “Now I work my shift. And you sit at your table and pretend to be grumpy while you watch me.”
He laughed—a real laugh, low and warm. “And after your shift?”
I rose on my toes, brushing a kiss against his jaw. “After my shift, you take me home and show me what else you’ve been thinking about since the first time you saw me.”
He groaned, pulling me closer. “You’re going to be the death of me, sweetheart.”
“Probably.” I kissed him once more, quick and teasing, then slipped out of his arms and headed toward the bar. “But what a way to go.”
I could feel his eyes on me as I walked away. Could feel the warmth of his gaze like a physical touch. And for the first time in longer than I could remember, I didn’t feel watched. I felt seen.
This was my life now. My town. My bar. My grumpy, beautiful mountain man waiting in the corner.
And it was exactly where I wanted to be.
EPILOGUE
BRIGGS: 5 YEARS LATER
The backyard looked like a daycare had exploded.
Kids were everywhere—chasing each other across the grass, climbing on the swing set Eli and I built last summer, shrieking at volumes that should have been illegal. Noah was leading the charge, as usual, with Josiah and Chelsea hot on his heels. Little Mary toddled after them on unsteady legs, determined to keep up with the big kids. Eloise had claimed the sandbox as her personal kingdom and was bossing around anyone who came near it.
And right in the middle of it all—my two boys.
Jake, our four-year-old, had inherited his mother’s quiet observation skills. He sat on the edge of the crowd, watching everything with those serious eyes, probably cataloging every detail to report back later. Beau, on the other hand, was a flurry of activity at two years old—currently face-first in a mud puddle, laughing like it was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
“Our son is going to need a bath,” Elsa said, appearing at my side with two beers.
“He’s your son when he’s covered in mud.”
She laughed, handing me a bottle. “Pretty sure that’s not how it works.”
I pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her temple. She smelled like sunshine and the vanilla-citrus lotion she’d used since the day I met her. Four years of marriage, two kids, and I still couldn’t believe she was mine.
Over by the grill, Hux was arguing with Mason about the proper way to flip a burger while their wives watched with barely concealed amusement. Allegra had one hand on her growing belly, the other wrapped around a glass of lemonade. Gabby was in the same condition, and she kept stealing bites of whatever Allegra had brought in that massive casserole dish.
