Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Aria

"I know you have to get ready soon, but can we talk?"

I glanced up and saw Paxton striding toward me, concern etched deeply into every one of his features. "Sure," I answered. "What's going on?"

He sat down on the couch and held his arms out to me. I didn't hesitate to move toward him. Curled up in his arms, I felt the safest, so even though he'd been wearing a solemn look on his face, I was still comforted by his embrace.

Paxton stroked his fingertips along my arm and said, "It's been about two weeks since everything happened, and I've been hoping you'd bring this up, so I wouldn't have to."

In an instant, my body tensed. Maybe that was why Paxton had urged me to move close to him. He knew what he planned to talk about, and being held close in his arms would help to ease me through this conversation .

Of course, while I knew what it had been two weeks since, I wasn't sure what he had hoped I would bring up to discuss with him.

The reality was that I'd had a lot I needed to process since everything went down. The first and best of it all was that Paxton seemed unbothered by my role in things. Obviously, he didn't like that I'd been put in that situation, but he didn't hold it against me. He certainly didn't use it as a reason to walk out on me. In all that I'd experienced and needed to deal with, he was the best and most supportive part of it all.

It was still early enough that nobody involved had been to trial or given punishments yet for their involvement in the drug ring. As it stood, it seemed the men that had been at the house that day had been arrested. They were all awaiting trial—or plea deals, for those willing to talk—but it seemed some justice would be served there.

As for my father, he was facing jail time, too. At the very least, because he had no criminal record, it was possible a judge might be sympathetic to his case as it related to my mother's cancer diagnosis, but there were no guarantees. Maybe I should have been upset about it, maybe I should have been worried for him, but I wasn't. I'd been too hurt by how he treated me that day. Even if he'd openly admitted to the police that I had been oblivious to what was going on, that he was solely responsible for getting us involved in this mess, I still couldn't forgive him.

When it came to my mother and my sister, I hadn't had any contact with them since Paxton took me out of the house. They'd both attempted to reach out—my mom leaving a voicemail, my sister sending a handful of texts. I didn't answer. I never responded. And at this point, I didn't have any plans to contact them again. The way I saw it, they had a choice to make the day they learned the truth. They made their choices. I'd made mine.

As for me, there was still the chance I could face some consequences. I hadn't taken any steps to report what was happening when I learned the truth, and I remained actively involved in it for a year afterward. Paxton was reassuring. He insisted that there wouldn't be a chance a judge anywhere could not understand my plight and have some mercy on me. For now, I was free to be where I was, and in time, hopefully, I would be in the clear.

I was going to do my best to move forward and try to continue building the life I wanted, the life I'd been trying to build from the moment I stepped foot in Steel Ridge a couple of months ago.

But it seemed something was still weighing heavily on Paxton's mind. "What were you hoping I'd bring up?" I asked him.

His eyes roamed over my face, a mild hesitancy lingering in his expression. I could see the battle he was waging inside, and I grew concerned about what was affecting him like this. "Painting."

"What?"

He shot me a sympathetic look, his fingers still brushing gently against my arm. "The day they took you, I saw those paintings tossed around the garage. At the time, I didn't know if that was you or them, but I've since been leaning toward it being you. I recalled seeing you with those paintings in your hands weeks ago when I offered to help you with unpacking. I can understand if they're representative of a time that was dark for you, but from what I can tell, you haven't been painting since you moved here."

I shook my head. "No. No, I haven't."

"Do you plan to?"

"I'm never painting again, Paxton."

"Why not?"

I swallowed hard. "Because I'm a fraud. I was never good enough to do it in the first place."

"That's a lie."

I jerked my head back, my lips parting in shock.

"You're lying to yourself if you believe that's the truth, Aria."

Shaking my head, I insisted, "No, I'm not."

"Do you remember how you said you didn't think there wasn't anything I couldn't do?" he questioned me.

"Yes."

"This is it. Painting. Art. I don't know the first thing about it, and I could only ever dream of painting anything remotely decent. But I know what I saw, Aria. I believe what I've seen with my own eyes. You're incredibly talented, and if you let the gift that you've got go to waste, it'd be a crying shame."

Tears welled in my eyes.

He didn't understand.

"My paintings were a means to an end," I rasped. "Nothing more."

"People with self-serving interests, particularly in the realm of criminal activity, aren't the kind of people I'd bet my whole future on."

"It was my family," I reminded him.

Paxton nodded, his hand squeezing my shoulder reassuringly. "I know. And it's horrible how they've treated you. But tell me this, darling. Before you knew the truth about what your dad was up to, how did you feel when you were painting?"

Darling.

He'd just called me darling.

That word made my belly flip.

I tried to ignore that feeling and answer his question. "Happy. Happier than when I was doing anything else."

He lifted his hand to the side of my face, his thumb stroking over the apple of my cheek. "You can't give that up, Aria. You need to paint. And I'll do whatever I can to help guide you back to it."

"I don't think I can do it."

"I don't think you can give it up. Would it help if I painted with you? Maybe if you saw just how bad I was, you might realize how exceptional you are."

"I highly doubt you're bad at it."

He cocked a brow. "I have no problem proving it to you."

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, but I didn't say anything. I wasn't quite sure what to say. If there was anyone who could convince me to do something like this, it was Paxton. But I'd been so badly hurt by my past, by the thought of the paintings I'd poured my heart and soul into being used for a money-making drug scheme. It was difficult to get past that.

Paxton must have realized how badly I was struggling, because he said, "I'm not saying you have to make a career out of it if that doesn't feel right for you at this point, but you love painting. And you shouldn't quit."

"I don't know."

"I'll take that. I'll take uncertainty about it over a hard no. I know you've got your night out with the girls tonight, so I won't continue harping on this now, but I want you to know that I'm going to do what I can to convince you to come back to something you love," he promised.

"Well, I love you, and I intend to come back to you tonight," I told him.

He smiled before he touched his mouth to mine. "You better. Otherwise, I'd head a search party to find you and bring you back."

"Sounds like you don't want to let me go."

"Never." Paxton kissed me again, and when he pulled back, he asked, "Are you okay?"

He was the best. No matter that we technically disagreed on what I should be doing regarding putting a brush to the canvas again, Paxton was ultimately only concerned about my well-being. And for that reason, no matter what I decided to do down the road, I would always be okay. "I am," I assured him.

Tension I hadn't realized he'd been holding on to left his body, his shoulders relaxing. "I love you, Aria."

"Can you say that using the other word?"

"What other word?"

"You called me darling before, and I loved it."

He sent a sweet smile in my direction. "I love you, darling."

My belly flipped again, and I beamed at him. "I love you, too."

After kissing Paxton once more, I finally got myself up and got ready for my night out with the girls. Paxton took me to the pub and dropped me off.

And hours later, everything that had been weighing heavily on my heart had vanished. I'd met the girls. All of them. And Mallory and Liv, though both heavily pregnant, were able to join in the fun.

I'd had such a great time—talking, laughing, getting to know everyone, and dancing—I didn't think there was any hope of the night getting any better.

But I was mistaken.

Because at some point, the door to The Steel Pub opened, and a group of men came strolling in. Paxton was among them, and he came straight for me. Without a word, he took me by the hand and led me out toward the dance floor.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Crashing girls' night."

"Was this your idea?"

He looked to the side, taking in the crowd and noting his friends littered throughout the pub. "It was a collective decision."

"I see."

"The thing is, I was working on something at home, and I didn't want to wait to show it to you," he explained. "So, I thought I'd call up a few of the guys and see what they thought about crashing this tonight. They were on board, and the word spread."

My curiosity got the best of me. "You have something you want to show me?"

He nodded.

"What is it?"

Paxton reached inside his pocket and pulled out a folded square of paper. I took it from him and opened it up as he begged, "Don't laugh."

When I looked down at what was on the paper, I had to press my lips together to stifle my laughter. "What is this?"

"It's a mostly failed attempt at drawing all of my animals," he answered.

My brows pulled together. "But… but it looks like there's only one animal here, and I'm sad to say I'm not exactly sure who it's supposed to be."

His lips twitched. "That's why I said it was mostly failed. I don't think you understand how long it took me to get this drawing of Tiny done."

"This is Tiny?"

He sighed. "I worked really hard on it."

I glanced down at the pitiful drawing. He hadn't done Tiny justice. It was terrible. "Maybe I can give you some pointers next time."

Surprise washed over him. "Yeah? Would you?"

"Of course. A guy like you that's as good as you are at everything you do deserves to know how to draw his pets."

"It's pretty pathetic, isn't it?"

I didn't want to make him feel bad, but I couldn't bring myself to lie to him. "It's the effort that matters."

He laughed. "Right. Well, how about you let me show you something I'm exceptional at?"

"Oh? What's that?"

"Dancing."

Without waiting for a response, he dragged me the rest of the way to the dance floor, where he showed me just how great his moves were.

And as I danced with Paxton and glanced around the pub, taking in the couples who were here with us, I was finally ready to admit I'd found a family that loved me in a place I could confidently say was now my home.

Paxton

Eight months later

I was supposed to be at work.

But I'd gotten a call an hour ago that the one thing I'd been waiting for was ready. So, I left work early, went to pick it up, and immediately drove home.

I knew Aria was only working at the deli today, so I was bound to find her at home when I arrived.

Sure enough, when I turned on our road and approached my driveway, I saw Aria's garage door was open.

It had taken her some time to get to the place where she was comfortable being in her garage with the door open, but she'd made it. Once sentencing came down through the ranks of those involved in what happened to her—nearly everyone seeing substantial jail time—a lot of the anxiousness she felt had dissipated.

The only person who had received a reduced sentence was her father, but even he had a price to pay for the things he'd done.

As suspected, Aria hadn't faced any legal ramifications. But I would say she'd paid a much higher price than those that did. She lost her family in the process, learned that they cared more about themselves and money over her.

It was only one more reason why I was so hellbent on making this happen now. I wanted to give her back some of what she'd lost, even if it was going to look a little different.

I pulled into my driveway, got out, and walked right over to her house. Then I stood in the doorway and felt something warm hit the center of my chest.

She was there, her back to me, and she was painting.

God, she was magnificent. Though I might have been a bit biased, I truly believed the amount of talent she had was unmatched. And I was glad she'd gotten back to doing something she loved.

While I thought she had the ability to do this professionally, I wasn't going to push her. She was happy now. She enjoyed working at the deli and the pub, she loved her friends, and she was painting.

Her happiness was all I cared about, so I didn't care if she chose to just paint for herself. I'd support her no matter what she decided.

Unable to stand the wait, I stepped forward and said, "That might be my favorite one yet."

Aria gasped and spun around. "Oh, God, Paxton, you scared me."

"I'm sorry. I should have given you a better warning."

She stood and moved toward me, throwing her arms over my shoulders. "It's okay. I'm happy to see you. But what are you doing here?"

"I left work early."

"I gathered that much. I guess I'm curious why."

"Well, I have a bit of a dilemma."

Confusion washed over her expression. "What do you mean? What's wrong?"

"I'm trying to figure out if you're going to be upset with me," I confessed .

Confusion turned to concern. "For what?"

"Well, the end of your lease is coming up, and I don't think you should renew it," I explained.

"What? But I've just gotten to a point where it's starting to feel like home," she reasoned, brow furrowed. "I've put up so many pictures and gotten myself settled here."

"That's why I've got this dilemma."

"I don't understand."

I reached inside my pocket, pulled out the ring box, and held it up between us. "I want to marry you, Aria. I know you like where you're living, but you're renting, and I'm not sure the owner intends to sell. So, I thought you might not renew your lease, and you'd want to move in with me instead."

Her eyes widened, her shock undeniable. "Pax," she breathed.

Wanting to do this right, considering I was doing it in her garage, I dropped down to one knee, held her hand in mine, and said, "I love you, darling. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I want that life to start now. Will you marry me?"

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she nodded furiously. "Yes. Yes, I'll marry you."

I stood, slid the ring on her finger, and captured her smiling face in my hands. Then I kissed her senseless before wrapping my arms around her waist and lifting her off the ground. I spun her around the garage and relished the sound of her laughter.

"I'm going to get married to the best man in the whole world."

"If you thought I was good at everything I've done until now, just wait until you see what I intend to do as a husband."

She beamed at me, biting her bottom lip. "You're going to be my husband."

Smiling, I nodded. "And you're going to be my wife."

Aria tightened her arms around my neck, hugged me tightly, and rasped, "I'm so glad I chose to come to Steel Ridge. It was easily the best decision of my life."

She wasn't wrong about that.

And I was going to make sure she never lived to regret that decision.