She’smyEverly. The love of my life. My future wife.
And as I hold her close, the sounds of the forest humming all around us, I know I’ve found my forever.
EPILOGUE
EVERLY
It’slate afternoon on Cherry Mountain, and the air is crisp with the promise of fall. I walk through the familiar trees, stopping when I reach one of my motion sensor cameras, strapped to a narrow trunk. I pull it down and replace the batteries, then remove the memory card and insert it into my rugged tablet. I’ll do a proper review of the footage later. For now, I quickly scan through, my heart fluttering with excitement when I see a mountain lion prowl past on the screen.
I can’t wait to watch this back.
Grinning to myself, I put a new memory card in the camera and strap it back on the tree, stowing the tablet in my backpack. Then I head for the trail and start running home.
I’ve been a fully fledged wildlife biologist for two years now. It took a lot of work, including four years as a junior field biologist to gain experience, but now I’m employed by Crave County Wildlife, and my job is everything I ever hoped it would be. I get to play a part in protecting this beautiful mountain, studying the place that I love so much.
The hours are long in spring and summer, but now that fall is approaching, work is slowing down for the year, and I’m spending more time at home writing reports instead of doingfieldwork. As much as I love working outdoors, the indoor work suits me just as much—it means I get to spend more time with my husband and son.
I slow to a light jog as I get closer to home, passing a pile of chopped logs with an axe head still buried in the wood. The sight makes me smile. It’s been a long road for Gunnar, but after two years of physio and a whole lot of time and patience, he was finally able to quit the guided hikes and start working as a lumberjack again. There’s nothing I love more than watching him swing his axe, hearing the satisfying thud as the blade hits wood, and knowing he’s back to doing what he’s passionate about.
I hear voices as I approach the cabin—my husband’s deep growl, a sharp contrast to our son’s sweet, childish voice. As I emerge from the trees, I catch sight of them sitting by the creek, and my heart swells. Asher is sitting on Gunnar’s lap, pointing at something in the water.
“What’s that one?”
“Good eye,” Gunnar says. “That’s a rainbow trout. They have pink streaks on their sides.”
“Are there clownfish?” Asher asks eagerly. “Like Nemo?”
“Not here, buddy. They live in warm water, like the Indian Ocean.”
I smile as I watch them. Asher looks impossibly tiny on his dad’s lap, even though he’s tall for his age. His eyes are blue, like mine, but otherwise, he’s all Gunnar in appearance, with the same black hair and warm skin that tans fast in the sun.
As I approach, Asher looks around, his face breaking into an adorable grin.
“Mommy!”
He jumps up from Gunnar’s lap and runs toward me, leaping into my arms. I can’t believe how big he’s getting. He’s five now and just started kindergarten last month, which I still can’t wrapmy head around. Heck, it feels like I was cradling him in the hospital only yesterday.
“Hey, sweetie.” I pick him up and kiss his head, looking over his shoulder at Gunnar. My husband straightens up, towering like a giant as he steps toward us. He’s gotten even more rugged with age, his lines and silver hairs only making him sexier. Those black eyes latch onto me with familiar intensity, burning with a mixture of love and something darker. More possessive.
“Hey there, princess,” he says, his deep voice still sending a shiver through me after all this time. Then he presses a kiss on my head, ruffling our son’s hair.
“Hi.” I grin at him. “Did you two have a good afternoon together?”
“Yep!” Asher exclaims. “Daddy taught me about fish and birds and some other stuff. He said we can go to the aquarium this weekend.”
“That sounds fun. Maybe we can get pizza after, too.”
He nods, beaming with approval. “Yes, please.”
The three of us head inside the cabin, which has changed a lot since the first time I came here. It’s not sparse anymore—heck, it’s the opposite, filled with cozy furniture and our son’s toys. The walls are lined with family photos: birthdays, days out on the mountain, pictures from our wedding. It feels like a real home now, warm and lived-in like a favorite sweater.
“Are you all packed for your sleepover?” I ask Asher as we head into the kitchen.
“Yep.”
“Pajamas? Toothbrush? Clothes for tomorrow?”
“Yep. Daddy helped me.”
