Because this isn't about choosing between Lucy and Lucinda anymore. It's about choosing love over fear, trust over control, home over hiding.
It's about choosingthem.
And that's the easiest decision I've ever made.
41
EPILOGUE - Colt
One year later...
The Montana sunrise paints the sky in shades of gold and pink, stretching across Beau's hill like God himself is showing off for Lucy's special day.
I adjust the tie that's trying to strangle me and watch our girl fuss with a rescued foal down by the barn, her white dress hiked up to keep it out of the mud, completely oblivious to the fact that half the town is already gathering on the hillside for what my sister Emma insists on calling "the most unconventional wedding ceremony in Briarhaven history."
"She's gonna be late to her own damn wedding," I mutter, but there's no heat in it. Watching Lucy with that foal, all gentle hands and soft words, still makes my chest tight in the best possible way.
"Relax," Gabriel says from beside me, straightening his own tie with military precision. "She'll be here. Wild horses couldn't keep her away."
"Speaking of wild horses," Beau drawls from my other side, his gray eyes dancing with amusement, "you might want to tell your sister to tone down the commentary before the ceremony starts. She just informed Mrs. Henderson that polygamy might be illegal but stupidityshouldbe"
I snort with laughter. "That's Emma. No filter, maximum chaos. Perfect for officiating this circus."
It's been a year since we dragged our sorry asses to New York and won our girl back with a presentation and pure desperation.
A year of waking up with Lucy between us, her hair tickling my chest while Beau's arm curves around her waist and Gabriel stands guard over all of us like the protector he was born to be.
A year of learning how to share not just a woman, but a life, a home, a future that's bigger and brighter than anything I ever imagined.
Don't get me wrong, it hasn't all been sunshine and rainbows.
Three alpha males learning to coexist in the same space leads to some territorial pissing matches that would make actual wolves proud.
Just last week, Gabriel and I got into it over who was driving Lucy to her hair appointment. Beau had tophysically separate us while Lucy stood there with her hands on her hips, telling us we were both idiots and she'd drive her damn self.
But that's the thing about real love, real partnership. It's messy and complicated and sometimes you want to punch your best friend in the face, but at the end of the day, you'd die for each other. And for her.
The sound of laughter draws my attention back to the barn, where Lucy is now surrounded by a small herd of rescued animals. Three-legged dogs, blind horses, traumatized cats, all of them drawn to her like she's some kind of Disney princess. Which, honestly, she pretty much is.
Her nonprofit, Second Chances Ranch, officially launched six months ago right here on Beau's property.
The concept is simple but brilliant. Pair struggling kids with rescued animals, let them heal each other. Lucy works with teenagers who've been through hell, just like she did, and together with these broken animals, they piece themselves back together one day at a time.
I've never been prouder of anything in my life than I am of watching her turn her pain into purpose.
"Colt Mercer, get your ass down here and help me with this foal before I have to get hitched covered in hay!"
Her voice carries up the hill, sharp with mock irritation, and I grin like the lovesick fool I am.
"Duty calls," I tell the guys, already jogging down the hill toward the barn.
I find her crouched beside a bay foal with a crooked leg, her dress somehow still pristine despite the barn floor. The little guy is skittish, probably dumped here because someone thought he wasn't worth the vet bills, but Lucy's got infinite patience for the wounded ones.
"Hey there, beautiful," I say, dropping to my knees beside her. "Need some help?"
"The foal is limping again," she says without looking up, all her attention focused on the animal. "I know you checked him yesterday, but something feels off."
I run my hands over the foal's leg, feeling for heat or swelling, but everything seems normal. "He's fine, shortie. Sometimes healing isn't linear. Sometimes you just gotta trust the process."
