Epilogue

Epilogue

Lucas

One year later

The cabin was warm and quiet when I opened my eyes, the kind of stillness that only comes after a night of laughter and chaos. The bed was empty beside me, though, and I could already smell cookies baking—Holly’s cookies, the ones he’d learned to make from scratch a few months ago. My heart did that stupid little flip it always did when I thought about how far he’d come—how far we’d come together. He was my forever, and one day, when I thought he was ready, I’d ask him to marry me.

I had no doubts he’d say yes, but I wanted it to be perfect.

One year ago, he’d been teetering on the edge, and now he was settled, happy. He was still talking with a therapist, but he also worked part-time with Kai at Diamonds, helped with the hockey programs, mentored kids, and spent the rest of his time pursuing a counseling degree online. He said his life wasn’t just good—it was full, and he was happy.

And best of all, he’d chosen to stay in Wishing Tree with me.

We’d bought the cabin from Bertram Norstrum Junior and turned it into something that was ours. We’d added two big rooms on the ground floor—one was an office, the other a proper bedroom big enough to hold my ridiculously massive bed we’d somehow hauled up here.

Today, the snow outside was the perfect Christmas-card white, not enough to trap us in, but enough that we could use it as an excuse to stay here for today if he needed to. He didn’t have panic attacks as often now, but he knew they’d never entirely leave him, even as he worked hard on his mental health. The space we’d created here was his sanctuary, and I was grateful every day that we had it.

I padded downstairs, barefoot and still half-asleep, and there he was. The tree was lit, twinkling in the corner, the stove was glowing, and Holly stood at the counter, a plate of cookies and two steaming mugs of coffee waiting. His hair was messy, and he vibrated with that quiet energy, meaning he was both happy and nervous. The second he saw me, he grinned and swept me into a hug so tight it knocked the breath out of me. He smelled of fresh air.

“You’ve fed the chickadees, then?”

“Yep.”

“Did you go out dressed in just your Christmas PJs?”

“Yep.”

“Idiot.”

“I was fast; the birds were grateful.” Then his lips brushed my temple. “Morning.”

“Morning,” I mumbled, pressing my face into his shoulder. “Why are you this awake?”

“Cookies,” he replied, pulling back just enough to nudge me toward the table. “Eat.”

We settled on the couch with the coffee and cookies, the soft crackling of the wood in the stove filling the space. The presents were piled under the tree, a mix of practical things and ridiculous gag gifts we’d grabbed for each other.

I unwrapped a pair of socks with If You Can Read This, Bring Me Coffee printed on the soles, and he got a novelty hockey stick bottle opener. Holly laughed when I opened a Monopoly game that claimed to be “ Lucas-proof,” with pre-calculated deals to avoid fights.

“Very funny,” I said, tossing the box onto the pile.

“Fair, though,” he replied, grinning at me.

We worked our way through the gifts, the pile shrinking as the warmth in my chest grew until suddenly, Holly went quiet. His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his mug, and his gaze flickered to the tree before landing back on me.

“Holly?” I asked, setting my coffee down. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “I just… need to do something.”

Before I could ask, he dropped to one knee in front of the tree, the stove, and me. My heartbeat stuttered as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small box. His hands shook, and his dark eyes held so much emotion it was hard to breathe.

“Lucas,” he began, his voice cracking. “You make my world better. You make my heart better. And I can’t imagine my life without you. So… will you marry me?”

For a moment, I stared, my brain short-circuiting as I tried to process the words. Then I nodded—probably too fast, probably grinning like an idiot—and practically launched myself at him, holding him in the tightest hug I could manage.

“Yes,” I whispered over and over again. “Yes. Of course, yes.”

His laughter vibrated against my chest, and when I finally pulled back enough to look at him, he slipped a broad platinum ring onto my finger. It was simple, understated, and perfect, and he tilted the box to show me another matching band. I took it out and slipped it on his finger.

“Merry Christmas,” he said softly, his lips brushing mine.

“Merry Christmas,” I whispered back, my heart so full it hurt.

“Love you forever,” he added.

“Forever,” I repeated, and when we kissed, I swear I heard Lucas’s chickadee happily chirping and tapping on the window.

Of course, the bird wasn’t there, but hugging the man I loved was enough to make me believe in magic.

And the miracle of a Christmas for Holly.

THE END