“Married,” he whispered back.
Later, when they stepped outside, the sky had darkened fully. Music drifted from the backyard. Laughter carried across the lawn.
“Ready to join the party again?” she asked, slipping her hand into his.
“In a second,” he said.
He turned, looking at the shop glowing behind them, then at the farmhouse lit with lanterns, and the field full of friends and family who’d chosen to gather around them.
Copper Moon wasn’t just where they’d landed.
It was where they’d built something lasting.
She leaned into him, head against his shoulder.
He kissed the top of her head.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get back before they send out a search party.”
They walked toward the celebration, hand in hand, lights twinkling, voices rising, the future unfolding itself in front of them like a road they’d finally chosen together.
Tomorrow, they’d open the shop.
Next month, they’d settle deeper into the farmhouse.
Next year, who knew.
But tonight, surrounded by their people, on their land, with the woman he loved, Hank knew one thing with absolute certainty.
They’d started something in Copper Moon.
And they weren’t stopping.
Chapter 1
The road sign emerged from the darkness like a promise: "Copper Moon Beach 5 Miles". Its reflective letters caught his headlights. Hank's chest expanded with the first full breath he'd taken in two hours. His fingers flexed on the steering wheel, joints stiff from gripping too tightly for too long.
"Only a few more minutes." The words came out rough, his throat dry from the recycled air and silence.
Brian shifted in the passenger seat, his massive frame cramped even with the seat pushed all the way back. A soft snore escaped before he settled again. In the back, Colby muttered something unintelligible, probably giving orders in his sleep like he did at the firehouse. The acrid smell of cold French fries mixed with Brian's cologne, something expensive he'd probably charmed off some woman, had been Hank's only company since they'd crossed the Kentucky state line.
His right thigh burned, the familiar ache spreading up into his hip. Thirteen hours behind the wheel was pushing it, but he'd wanted to drive. Needed to. The closer they got to Copper Moon, the more his body hummed with anticipation, and something else. Fear maybe. Or the weight of knowing everything rode on this weekend.
The truck crested Miller's Hill, and Hank's breath caught. This was the moment. His father's voice echoed in his memory: "Watch now, son. Nothing prettier than Copper Moon at night."
He reached over, his calloused fingers finding Brian's shoulder. The muscle beneath was solid as rock, even relaxed. "Hey, you're gonna miss it."
"Hmm." Brian's hand came up, scrubbing at his face. His tactical watch caught the dashboard light, 0058 hours. Old habits. "What..." A yawn cut him off, arms stretching until his knuckles brushed the roof.
"Buddy. Wake up, we're here." Hank rolled his shoulders, vertebrae popping in sequence. The sound made him feel older than forty-three. His neck protested as he turned it side to side, but the pain faded as Miller's Hill delivered its promise.
Brian straightened, suddenly alert, that SEAL training never really left. "Holy shit."
"Yeah." Hank's voice came out reverent.
The bay spread before them like hammered copper, the full moon painting the water in shades of rust and gold. Each wave caught the light differently, creating a living canvas that shifted and breathed. The town below looked like a jewelry box, windows dark but edged in copper light, the marina's masts cutting dark lines through the glow.
"Colby, get up, time to go to work." Brian's voice held mischief.
