Epilogue

EMERY

I’d heard of flop sweat before, but I’d always thought that was more of a literary device. One of those things that wasn’t really a thing but that helped describe a feeling, or whatever. However, as I sat here, waiting for Woody to get home, there was no way else to describe it.

I was drenched in flop sweat.

I had nothing to be nervous about, not with the way our relationship had grown over the last year. I laughed to think that Woody initially felt a little awkward about sleeping together while Stevie was home, even though her room was on the other side of the house.

That wasn’t an issue for me since we could always spend time together in his cabin, but the siren call of my far superior bed eventually pulled him over to the dark side.

By the time Christmas rolled around, Woody was spending more nights with me than not, complaining that I’d spoiled him and that he could barely sleep alone anymore, so I officially asked him to move in with us.

He tried to do the Woody thing, acting like it wasn’t necessary, giving the animals as an excuse. Rowdy then suggested that he stay in the cabin, which would give him more options for hookups, and Woody really hated that, insisting that (despite all evidence to the contrary) Rowdy wasn’t a hookup guy.

When I finally sat him down and demanded that he tell me what was making him hesitate, he finally admitted he was worried about Stevie. Sometimes, he reasoned, living together made a couple break apart faster, and if that happened, he hated the idea of disappointing her. That, of course, made me love him all the more.

“Whatever happens between us, Woody, we’ll handle it gracefully.”

I also pointed out that he was already practically living with us. Woody grumbled but finally caved. I’d love to say it was my fantastic cock that swayed him, but I knew that my bed—and the fact that Stevie was willing to move into Rowdy’s old room downstairs—was right up there with deciding factors.

With our living arrangements thus settled, we had a fantastic Christmas together. I was especially proud of the present I’d gotten for him—I’d been stalking eBay for weeks and found a vintage ThunderCats T-shirt just like the one that’d been cut up on his way to the hospital.

He cried like a baby when he opened the box.

By New Year’s he was fully moved in, and the relationship between him and Stevie continued to grow. Watching her turn to him for advice, and in turn watching him listen and respond...I couldn’t put to words how it made me feel.

As it turned out, Woody was surprisingly good at that sort of thing.

His newest book of poetry came out last month, and while it was filled with his thoughts on the beautiful Texas Hill Country, a fair number of his works also included themes of falling in love, both with me and with Stevie.

Stevie’s last day of school was yesterday, and today Woody had gone into town to buy feed and other supplies for the sanctuary. That gave us time to get things in motion. Flowers overfilled the beds that Rowdy and Stevie had built—a riot of yellow and pink lantana, Woody’s favorite. We’d gotten a lot of use out of our revitalized firepit area over the last year, and so we spent today scrubbing the bricks, fluffing the pillows on the outdoor lounge, making it all perfect.

As the sky dimmed, I started the firepit while Rowdy helped Stevie get the animals settled in for the night.

We’d just finished putting on the final touches when the crunch of tires on the driveway signaled that Woody was back home. Stevie ran inside and got the bouquet of wildflowers she’d handpicked, both from our garden beds and from elsewhere on the property. She stood next to me by the firepit in her prettiest skirt and sparkliest blouse, along with her matching boots, hat, and fanny pack.

Rowdy and Mom hung back on the front porch, wanting to give us space even as they couldn’t stay away.

Woody hopped out of his truck, cocking a brow in our direction. “Wow. Y’all cleaned up out here. You sure do look nice, Miss Stevie,” he said, tipping his baseball hat at her.

Those silver-blue eyes, so keen, drifted up to mine. “And you’re looking awfully debonair, Mr. McAvoy.”

“Why thank you, Mr. Lockwood,” I said, reaching out my hand.

He took it and leaned up on his toes to give me a kiss.

“So, what do you have going on here?” he asked, his eyes sparkling.

“Well, me and Stevie have a question to ask of you.”

Stevie shoved the flowers into his hands, then nervously settled back in next to me. “Your turn, Dad.”

I reached into the pocket of my jeans and pulled out a black velvet box. I knelt, then carefully opened the box so that he could see the ring.

“You may be the wordsmith of the family, but when I look at you, I could write epic poems, thousands of words, and never quite get to the heart of what you mean to me. What you mean to us. Over this last year, you’ve become a part of our family, and now Stevie and I would like to make it official. Woody, would you marry me? Would you marry us?”

He blinked, a tear rolling down his cheek. “Dammit. You two always hit me right here,” he said, tapping his chest. He leaned over and kissed Stevie on the cheek. “Of course I’ll marry you, Emery. I want you and Stevie in my life forever.”

Stevie jumped up and down with a shout, then Rowdy and my mom drifted down from the front porch, pulling us into hugs that seemed to last forever.

I tipped my chin back, taking in the night sky, thinking about the uncertainty I’d had when I’d first moved out here, not knowing what the fuck I was getting myself into. But now, I understood. I was always meant to be here. To be with this man. To be with this family exactly as it was.