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No dramatic showdown.
No revenge.
No final confrontation.
He just goes.
Eric’s statement doesn’t magically erase Dane’s conviction or give him back eighteen months. Lawyers start making calls. People who spent ten years whispering suddenly discover they always had doubts.
Dane has very little to say about any of it.
He goes to work.
He fixes the railing at the lodge.
He clears my car.
He leaves coffee beside my bed every morning.
Life keeps moving.
So do we.
By spring, Dawson Lodge is booked solid through summer.
The cancellation story becomes a redemption story, which becomes publicity, which becomes reservations.
Hank takes full credit. “I knew auctioning you off would save this place.”
“You were drunk.”
“Visionaries are rarely understood in their own time.”
“You put your niece on an auction block.”
“And look how well it worked.”
Dane walks past carrying lumber.
Hank points at him. “Hundred grand.”
Dane doesn’t stop. “Overpaid.”
I throw a rag at him and he catches it without looking. I hate him. I’m also probably going to have sex with him later. Marriage is complicated.
A few months later the lodge lawn is packed with half of Devil’s Peak. String lights hang between the trees. Music plays from the porch. Wyatt runs the bar. Ellie is trying to convince Hank he’s too old to dance on a picnic table.
Dane stands beside me with one hand on my hip. He’s always touching me now. My back, my waist, my hand. Like he needs to confirm I’m still here.
Wyatt walks over carrying two beers. “Look at you two.”
“What?”
“Still married.”
Dane takes a beer. “Disappointed?”
“I’m losing money.”
