Later,there’s cake. Fun dancing. Too many photos.
Saint never lets go of my hand.
Not once.
That night, when the house is quiet again and it’s just us and our daughter and our new name…
I fall asleep knowing:
We didn’t just survive this story.
Wewonit.
106
Epilogue
Six Months Later
Laney
Saint built the swing himself.
That probably doesn’t surprise anyone.
He said the one in town “wasn’t anchored right” and then disappeared into the garage for two days and came back with something that could probably survive a hurricane.
It hangs from the big oak behind the house, we bought after the wedding, the one that catches the late afternoon sun just right.
Emmy is in my lap on the swing, squealing every time we move.
Saint stands in front of us, one hand steadying the rope, the other holding a lemonade he definitely forgot about.
“You’re spoiling her,” I tell him.
He looks at our daughter like she’s the center of the universe.
“That’s literally my job.”
Wolf and Havoc are on the porch arguing aboutsomething that may or may not involve a grill and definitely involves too much confidence.
The Magnolia ladies are inside, reorganizing my kitchen again.
Some things never change.
Life is quieter now.
Not empty.
Just… settled.
Saint still goes out sometimes on jobs. He still wears the armor when he needs to.
But he always comes home.
Always.
That’s the promise he keeps best.
