December 31, Tuesday

"IT FEELS like the house is waking up," Sawyer said as we pulled the sheet off another sofa, releasing a cloud of dust motes that danced in the late afternoon sunlight. The furniture beneath was beautiful - all curved wood and rich upholstery that had somehow survived its long hibernation.

"That's exactly it." I ran my hand along the sofa's scrolled arm. "Like it's been waiting for this."

We moved through the rooms together, uncovering chairs and tables, side boards and settees. Each piece seemed to glow with renewed purpose, as if grateful to be seen again.

"I'll miss this place," Sawyer said softly, his hands lingering on a newly revealed armchair. "Miss you."

I couldn't keep the smile from spreading across my face. "Well, that's good. Since I'll be here when you get back."

He turned so quickly he nearly knocked over a lamp. "What?"

"I renewed my lease on Whisper House. And..." I took a deep breath. "I'm buying Blakemore Books."

"You're... what?"

"The town needs a bookstore. And I need a place to write that isn't haunted." I grinned. "Though the ghost stories have grown on me. Kelly's going to run a café in part of the space - all those baking shows she watches are finally paying off. My mother's helping with the financing. Says it's time she supported my 'literary endeavors' properly."

Sawyer stared at me for a long moment, then crossed the room in two strides and pulled me into a kiss that left me breathless.

"You're staying," he whispered against my lips.

"I'm staying." I smiled up at him. "Turns out I'm not ready to leave my graveyard just yet."

He laughed and kissed me again. "I'll hurry back."

The doorbell's chime broke us apart. "That'll be Kelly," I said. "She's bringing approximately seventeen different appetizers."

"Of course she is." He released me reluctantly. "I'll get the door. You finish in here?"

I nodded, watching him go. Through the windows, I could see more cars pulling up - Coleman's ancient pickup, Reverend Abernathy's sensible sedan, Uncle Pete's restored Mustang.

My people. My place.

The house filled quickly with laughter and conversation, with the pop of champagne corks and the warmth of friends. Kelly had indeed brought enough food to feed an army, while Coleman contributed his "secret recipe" punch that had Reverend Abernathy raising his eyebrows appreciatively.

Frannie and Dora arranged an impressive array of desserts. Dilbert was busy preparing fireworks.

"Quite a gathering," Sawyer said, appearing at my elbow with fresh glasses of champagne.

I accepted one gratefully. "Better than hiding in New York, don't you think?"

"Much better." His free hand found mine. "Though I have to say, when you first arrived, I never thought..."

"That the scared woman running from her ex would end up buying a bookstore and hosting parties?"

"That you'd make us all family," he corrected softly.

I squeezed his hand, watching Kelly demonstrate proper éclair-filling technique to Dora while Coleman and Reverend Abernathy debated the finer points of communion wine versus moonshine.

"They were already family," I said. "I just... helped them remember."

Music started playing - something slow and sweet. Sawyer set down his glass and pulled me close.

"Dance with me?"

We swayed together as others joined us - Kelly and Uncle Pete, Frannie and Coleman.

"Six months is going to feel like forever," Sawyer murmured against my hair.

"Those soldiers deserve to be remembered properly."

"I know. But knowing you'll be here... that makes leaving both harder and easier somehow."

I understood exactly what he meant. "Just think of all the stories I'll have when you get back."

"Speaking of stories..." He grinned. "Did you really run Edra Waco out of town?"

"Let's just say she's reconsidering her podcast plans."

His laugh rumbled through his chest. "That's my girl."

Around us, voices started counting down. "Ten! Nine! Eight..."

I looked up at Sawyer, memorizing his face in the soft light. "Promise you'll come back?"

"Seven! Six! Five..."

"Try and stop me." His eyes crinkled at the corners. "Someone has to keep an eye on Satan while you're running your literary empire."

"Four! Three! Two! One!"

His kiss tasted of champagne and magic, both ordinary and extraordinary.

"Happy New Year!" voices chorused around us. Outside, fireworks began to pop and crackle. We all rushed to the porch to take in the showering light show.

Later, after the guests had gone and Sawyer had fallen asleep beside me, I stood at my bedroom window. In the distance, the Whisper Graveyard lay peaceful under a blanket of stars.

Who would have thought that running away to hide would lead me here? To this house, this town, these people who had become so dear to me. To a man who restored broken things with patience and love. To a place where I could finally be myself - all of myself, even the parts that believed in magic.

Satan bleated from his pen - his nightly protest at being confined. The black rooster answered with an indignant crow.

The familiar sounds of home.

My phone buzzed with a text from Frida: Happy New Year! Still can't believe you're staying in Witch City. But I'm happy for you. Even if you did fall in love with a warlock.

I smiled, typing back: What can I say? This place cast a spell on me.

In bed, Sawyer stirred. "Come back to sleep," he murmured.

I climbed in beside him, letting his warmth chase away the winter chill. Tomorrow would bring changes - Sawyer's departure, a new business to open, more stories to write.

But for now, there was just this - the man I loved, the home I'd found, and all the magic still to come.

Even if that magic revolved around a graveyard.

Especially then.

-The End-