Jax stands near the live oaks strung with lights, talking with Cal and a few of the team. He wears a crisp black button-down with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, dark slacks, and boots that somehow still look tactical even dressed up. He finds me instantly across the crowd, and the slow, private smile that curves his lips makes my heart flip the way it has since the very first morning at Nettie’s.
He excuses himself from the conversation and walks toward me with that confident, purposeful stride that still makes my pulse quicken. When he reaches me, he doesn’t hesitate. His hand slides around my waist, pulling me close right there in front of everyone.
“You look breathtaking,” he murmurs, voice low enough for only me to hear. “Though I prefer you in my hoodie and nothing else.”
Heat flushes my cheeks. “Behave, Reaper. This is a public event.”
His grin turns wicked. “I’m on my best behavior. For now.”
We move through the gala together, his hand never leaving the small of my back. Guests notice. Whispers follow us, but they are the good kind. I don’t mind being the center of attention. Not when the man beside me looks at me like I am the only thing he sees.
Later, when the music shifts to something slower and sweeter, Jax takes my hand and leads me beneath the oaks where strings of lights twinkle like stars caught in the moss. The band plays asoft, soulful melody that blends perfectly with the lap of water against the pilings and the distant hum of shrimp boats.
He pulls me into his arms without asking, one hand settling at the small of my back, the other cradling my fingers against his chest. We sway together under the trees, bodies pressed close, the rest of the world fading into a gentle blur.
“You did it,” he says quietly, lips brushing my temple. “The gala is perfect.”
“We did it,” I correct, tilting my head to look up at him. “You kept me safe long enough for me to finish what I started.”
His eyes darken with emotion. “Best thing I’ve ever done.”
We dance in comfortable silence for a while, the music wrapping around us like a warm embrace. His hand strokes slow circles on my back, and I rest my cheek against his chest, listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart. Every scar, every doubt, every wall he has torn down for me feels present in that rhythm.
“I love you,” I whisper against his shirt.
His arms tighten. “I love you too, Bee. More than I ever thought I could love anything.”
The song ends, but we stay wrapped together a moment longer, reluctant to let the world back in.
After the gala, we meet the team. Barnacle & Beam is lively when we arrive, the old dockside bar filled with familiar faces and the warm glow of string lights. The jukebox plays a mix of Lowcountry classics and upbeat tunes.
Cal raises his glass as we join them. “To Isabella and Reaper. For surviving the storm, cracking the ledger, and reminding all of us that holding the line sometimes means letting someone stand right beside you.”
Rhea smirks, clinking her glass against mine. “Especially when that someone throws lanterns at armed intruders and refuses to stay put when told.”
Laughter ripples around the table. Jax pulls me onto his lap instead of letting me take the empty chair beside him, his arm banded securely around my waist. I lean back against his chest, perfectly content as the team trades stories, some exaggerated for effect, others quietly respectful.
The night stretches on in easy camaraderie. Dancing spills out onto the wooden deck when the music picks up. Jax spins me under the lights, his laughter low and genuine when I step on his boot for the third time. He is a surprisingly good dancer, smooth and confident, leading me with the same quiet authority he brings to everything else.
At one point, as a slower song begins, he pulls me close again, forehead resting against mine while we sway.
The celebration continues late into the night. Eventually, after many goodbyes and promises to meet for sunrise biscuits at Nettie’s, Jax and I slip away. He drives us back to my cottage, where he’s moved most of his things.
The night air is cool and clear, the stars bright overhead. Inside, we leave the lights off and open the shutters to let the moonlight spill across the large bed. We undress each other slowly, hands gentle and reverent, celebrating the scars that tell our story, his knife wound now a thin silver line, my graze from the pier faded to almost nothing.
We make love under the moonlight, slow and deep and full of quiet promises. Jax moves inside me with the same possessive tenderness he showed that first night after the storm, whispering against my skin between kisses. I claim him right back, legs wrapped around his waist, hands tracing every ridge of muscle and scar as I tell him again and again how much I love him.
Afterward, we lie tangled in the sheets, limbs intertwined, his chest warm beneath my cheek. We kiss again, slow, passionate, full of promise and heat that will never fade.
Epilogue Two - Reaper
Six Months Later
The pier is quiet tonight, lit only by the soft glow of strung white lights that sway gently in the evening breeze. The rest of the world feels far away. It’s just Isabella and me at the end of the weathered boards, the marsh stretching out on one side and the dark Atlantic on the other. The moon hangs low, silver light glinting on the water like scattered diamonds.
This pier has become our place. We come here often to talk and be together. Tonight, it’s where I’m going to ask her to spend the rest of her life with me.
I stand behind her, my arms wrapped around her waist, her back pressed to my chest. She leans into me, her head resting against my shoulder, and for a long moment we simply breathe together, listening to the soft lap of waves against the pilings and the distant call of night herons.
