"Tom?"
"Yeah."
"I'm glad the bus stopped here."
His arm tightens around me. "Me too. Best thing that's happened in this town in four years."
I close my eyes.
I'll go to Murphy's tomorrow and earn my own money. I'll watch Jackson make friends at story time and discover what it feels like to run in a backyard without fear. I'll let this town in, slowly, the way you let light into a room that's been dark for too long, slowly at first, then all at once.
And in a week, I'll call my mother. I'll say the words I should have said four years ago: *You were right. I'm sorry. I love you.*
I'll tell her about Tom, about Blackwater Falls, about starting over. And maybe she'll come visit. Maybe she'll meet Jackson, her grandson she's never seen. Maybe we'll sit in that beautiful kitchen and I'll make her the pasta she taught me how to cook, and we'll cry and laugh and begin to heal together.
Maybe this is what happiness feels like. This warmth in my chest, this peace in my mind, this hope for the future.
Tom's breathing has evened out, deep and steady. He's fallen asleep holding me, his arm still wrapped around my body. I press a kiss to his chest, right over his heart, and whisper words I'm not sure he can hear.
"Thank you for finding us. Thank you for being exactly who you are. Thank you for making me believe in good men again."
Outside, the night is quiet. No sirens, no shouting, no sounds of danger. Just the peaceful silence of a small town at rest. Inside, I'm wrapped in the arms of a man who makes me feel safe, with my son sleeping soundly down the hall, in a house that's starting to feel like home.
For the first time in five years, I fall asleep with a smile on my face and no nightmares waiting in the dark.
Tomorrow, my new life begins.
And I can't wait.
Epilogue - Tom
Three Years Later
The September sun hangs warm and golden over Blackwater Falls, and my yard has never looked better.
White chairs arranged in neat rows face the old oak tree where Jackson used to climb, still climbs, actually, though at seven he's gotten braver about it. White ribbons flutter from the branches, and someone, probably Sarah from the bakery, has strung lights through the leaves that'll glow when the sun sets.
Nearly the whole town is here. Packed into my backyard, dressed in their Sunday best, waiting for a wedding that's been three years in the making.
My wedding.
I adjust my tie for the third time in as many minutes, and Murphy catches me doing it.
"You're fidgeting," he says, grinning. "Never seen you fidget before, Sheriff."
"I'm not fidgeting."
"You absolutely are." Levi appears on my other side, smoothing down his own tie. "I've catered a hundred weddings. Trust me, the groom always fidgets."
I force my hands to my sides and scan the crowd instead. Casey's here with his girlfriend and daughter, all three them cleaned up and smiling. Eli Cross stands near the back, arms crossed, nodding at something Frank from the hardware store is saying.
Mrs. Walker from the library sits in the front row next to Sarah, both of them dabbing at their eyes with tissues even though nothing's happened yet. Jade sits a few rows back, her laptop bag at her feet like she can't go anywhere without it. Maya's near thekitchen door, probably checking on the food even though Levi assured her everything's under control.
Beast and half the Savage Riders MC are here too, looking uncomfortable in dress shirts but here all the same. They've become something like extended family over the past three years. It turns out bikers make excellent babysitters when you need someone to watch a seven-year-old who likes dinosaurs and asks a thousand questions.
And there, in the second row, are Claire's parents.
Her mother keeps wiping her eyes. Her father has his arm around her shoulders, steady and solid. We've seen them six times in three years. They drive down every few months, stay a week, spoil Jackson absolutely rotten. That first phone call was hard. Claire cried through most of it. But her mother cried too, and by the end they were talking about visit dates and making up for lost time.
