Epilogue

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TWO YEARS LATER

T hat little green-eyed devil was going to be the death of me. "Isaac!" I shouted, pacing back and forth in our bedroom.

Shortly after his graduation, we'd moved into an apartment together and had been living here ever since. Isaac had gotten a job with a publishing company in the next town over, and he absolutely loved it. Well, he hated it at first, but he'd been recently promoted and was finally getting to do some real editing and work that didn't involve getting coffees for people or sorting through mail.

On top of that, he'd also finished his first book, sent out a million and one queries to every publisher he could, and gotten a lot of positive feedback as well as offers. His book was going to debut in a few weeks, and I was so fucking proud of him. He'd commissioned an amazing artist to illustrate every single page, which had cost a fortune, but was worth it. And he'd even printed off all his poems in a dyslexia-friendly font so I could read them. But I still preferred it when he read them to me himself.

As far as our legal problems went, those had been fully wrapped up about a year and a half ago. Gavin was convicted of assault and battery on two counts, was sentenced to six months in jail, slapped with a requirement of two hundred community service hours to complete, and had to pay a fine of four thousand dollars. Because his attack was the reason my heart began to fail, he was ordered by the judge to partially pay for the fees that my insurance didn't cover. They weren't a lot, but according to Isaac, every penny mattered.

Our lawyer told us that the reason Gavin gave for attacking Isaac was because he blamed him for being kicked off the wrestling team and losing his scholarship. He admitted that it wasn't Isaac's fault, that he hadn't been in his right mind because of all the steroids, and had even apologized. It was too little, too late, though. Apparently, it was his teammate, Beck, who'd told the coaches he saw Gavin juicing up in the locker room. The same guy who came to our aid that day. But Gavin had chosen to pick on someone smaller than himself, rather than his much larger teammate, like the coward he was.

In my opinion, he chose to take steroids, probably knowing how they would affect him, and now he was paying the price for that choice. I wasn't angry anymore, but if I ever saw him out in public, I wasn't about to say hi.

I was pretty much healed on the heart front, and not having to worry about an ongoing issue anymore was a huge relief. I was always going to get the surgery, but the way things had played out was not ideal. Still, I was okay, and that was what mattered.

Sam had informed us that Ethan had been sentenced to thirty years in prison, ten more years than the predicted twenty, and Isaac had been mostly quiet for the rest of that day. He still saw his therapist every two or three weeks, and he even talked to me about a lot of things as well. But sometimes, he would just sit and think, and that was okay too. I knew he'd talk to me when he was ready.

Now that school was finally over for me, I'd be working full time at the auto shop, and I was relieved about that. Part of me enjoyed school, but most of me was only passionate about the hands-on work I got to do. My uncle had made me the official manager of the shop, with a bump in pay and a few other benefits I hadn't been getting before.

All in all, I fucking loved my life and the man I was sharing it with.

Now, we were heading to my uncle's house to celebrate Isaac's achievement and my own graduation from college a week ago. It was a little surreal, after being in school for so long. But I was glad to be finished, and I knew my mom would have been as proud of me as Isaac was. He'd framed my diploma and hung it in the bedroom, right above the cactus he'd gotten for me all those years ago.

Yeah, that prickly bush was still going strong, and I was going to be crushed when it finally decided to call it quits. How long did a cactus live, anyway?

"Isaac! What are you doing?" Damn it, what was he doing in there? He knew what time the barbecue was. He hated being late, couldn't stand not arriving at anything at least fifteen minutes early, so what was taking him so long that he was willing to be late to this? I pressed my ear to the door when I heard frantic whispers.

"Just a second!" His voice was muffled through the en-suite bathroom door, and I raked my hand through my hair. Then the door swung open, and Isaac was grinning at me.

"Okay, let's go!" He said, brushing past me. I grabbed his arm before he could go anywhere.

"What were you doing? You never want to be late to anything?—"

"Nothing! I just—" His eyes shifted away from mine. Little liar. "Uh, I had to—I had some really bad tacos this morning."

My lips twitched. "Uh huh. Say, where'd you get these tacos from?"

Isaac toyed with the collar of my shirt. "Oh, you know, that little place down the street."

"Uh huh. And did you get them delivered? Because we've been together all morning."

His eyes were looking everywhere but mine. "Yeah. Yep. Got ‘em delivered while you were in the shower. Didn't want to share, either, because I only got one. Just one. And it was tiny. And it's a good thing you didn't eat any because it didn't agree with me so we should get going, right? We're already late, why are we standing around talking about tacos?" He laughed nervously, his fingers clutching the material of my shirt a little too hard now.

I bent down and caught his gaze in mine. "I'll let this go for now, babe. But I know you're up to something." I kissed him before he could say anything, and he groaned into my mouth, instantly melting against me.

"Not fair," he mumbled. "You play dirty."

"You like it dirty," I murmured.

"Ugh. Let's go. Before I ruin my pants and have to change." He grabbed my hand and dragged me toward the door, glaring at me as I laughed behind him.

When we got to my uncle's house, they were already grilling out back. Well, Uncle Boone was grilling. Bri was sitting in a lounge chair with a drink and staring at the clouds. She looked at me, and my stomach fluttered with nerves. I really hoped she hadn't forgotten to bring what I'd given to her for safekeeping. When she winked at me, the knot in my chest loosened.

"Hey, guys," Uncle Boone said, a big smile on his face. "Perfect day for a cookout, right?"

"Yeah," I said, and it was. A perfect day to ask the man I loved to spend the rest of his life with me.

"Mmm," Isaac said, closing his eyes and inhaling loudly. "Oh that smells amazing, Boone." His eyes cut to mine, glinting with mischief as he said, "Can't wait to try it, I had some tacos this morning that did not agree with me."

"Oh no, where from?" Uncle Boone asked. "So I know not to go there in the future."

I rubbed a hand across my mouth to hide the smile that was growing by the second.

Isaac fluttered his hands and said, "Oh, you know, that little place down on South Street—hey, is that a new spatula? Wow, that's nice , what's the make?"

Like it was a car.

I choked on my laugh as Isaac stared me down. He sidled up to my uncle and pretended to be deeply interested in his cookware.

I made my way over to Bri and sat down by her feet. "You still have it, right?"

Bri scoffed. "Of course I have it. What do you think, I'd drink that shit? It's straight poison."

"Just making sure," I said. She gave me an impish smile, and I narrowed my eyes at her. "What? What are you not telling me?"

She popped her gum and suddenly found her nails of particular interest. "Nothing."

"Bri," I said.

"Brody," she said.

" Bri ," I warned.

"Food's ready!" Uncle Boone shouted.

Bri smiled, slid off the lounger, and raced to the back deck, claiming a seat at the head of the table. I sighed and made my way back to Isaac.

We ate and talked and laughed as the clouds rolled by lazily overhead. Isaac, who preferred to be touching me at all times, had one hand on my thigh as we sat there. And I preferred the same thing, so I had my arm slung around the back of his chair, my fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. When everyone was finished eating, I looked at Bri and raised my eyebrows, and she slipped away into the house.

"Bri!" Isaac shouted. "Wait a sec!" Before I could grab the slippery little fucker, he raced after Bri into the house.

I should've just done this the old fashioned way. All this secrecy and collusion was giving me a headache, and I was probably going to fuck this up anyway.

Isaac came bursting through the sliding door that he'd left open, a book in his hands and seriously out of breath. "Okay," he panted. "I just?—"

"Isaac," I said. "Breathe."

"Yeah," he gasped, falling into the seat beside me. I looked at the book he was clutching in his fingers, and when I saw the title and author, my eyes went wide.

"Is that—" I reached for it, but he pulled it away. He was smiling, and there was a faint pinkish blush spreading across his cheeks.

"Yeah," he said, "It's my book. I got a few copies the other day and…gave one to Bri for safekeeping."

Why would he give it to Bri for safekeeping? Why wouldn't he just keep them at our apartment? More importantly, why hadn't he shown me a copy right away?

I kept those thoughts to myself, though. Whatever his reasoning, the book was here and I wanted to look through it. See what my baby had spent years on, all that hard work culminating to this very moment.

"Got some drinks," said Bri, stepping out of the open sliding door. She set a bottle of soda in front of me, Isaac, and then Uncle Boone, who was watching everything with a small smile. He knew what I was up to.

My heart was pounding, but Isaac's attention was on me. His blush deepened as he handed me the book. "You should, uh, look through it," he said.

I kissed his cheek and focused my attention on his book. The cover was eye-catching, bright colors that swirled around each other and detailed illustrations of the world Isaac had brought to life with his words. I thumbed the pages open, looking through the illustrations he'd shown me a hundred times, looking at the shape of the poems, the varying lengths and how some of them looked like drawings all on their own.

"This is so great, sweetheart. God, I can't believe how good it looks," I said.

"Um, you should start at the beginning," Isaac said, clearing his throat and shifting nervously in his seat. He still hadn't touched his soda.

"You should drink something," I said, nodding my head toward the soda.

"Oh, yeah, of course," he agreed, grabbing the bottle. He hadn't even looked at it, and his eyes were glued to my face. He fiddled nervously with the label while I prayed he didn't rip it, and when I wasn't getting to the beginning of the book fast enough, he turned the pages himself, until I was on the first page. I eyed him, then the bottle, then him again. I don't know what he was so nervous about, but I was really starting to sweat. "You should read the dedication, Brody."

Fuck, I guess my thing was just gonna have to wait. I looked down and saw the words clearly, as Isaac had used a font I could read, and my heart swelled in my chest. But when I finally registered the words, I had to re-read them a few times because I was sure it didn't say what I thought it did.

But no, right there on the page, Isaac had printed: I love you to the moon, Brody Correlli. Will you marry me ?

When I looked up at him, at his gorgeously flushed features, the uncertainty in his eyes, at the hand he was holding out, at the open box sitting atop his palm, at the silver band inside, I couldn't believe it. I started laughing, and when his expression faltered, then crumpled, I set the book on the table and drew him into my arms. "No, no—baby, that's not why I'm laughing. Yes ," I said. "Yes, I'll fucking marry you, you dummy. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy. There is no world in which I wouldn't, sweetheart. I love you."

Isaac's arms were wrapped around my neck, and he drew back and said, "Then why did you laugh?"

I chuckled and pressed my lips to his. "Because," I said. "Look at your soda."

He looked confused, then picked up the bottle of soda he'd dropped between us. When he started reading the label, his eyes getting wider and wider, he gasped. "Brody! Are you serious? Oh my fucking god ," he cried, dissolving into laughter. "What—how—oh my god, yes! Of course I will. Christ, it's like a scene from a movie."

"Yeah, what are the chances?" I said, pulling the little black box from my pocket and opening it so he could see the gold band I'd picked out for him. What were the odds that we'd both propose on the same exact day?

"You guys are hopeless," Bri said. "Seriously." But she was smiling, and now I knew why she'd been giving me that look earlier. She must've been laughing to herself all week long.

"Must be kismet," I said, sliding the ring onto his finger, letting him do the same with mine.

"Yeah, fucking kismet." Isaac kissed me gently, his lips moving slowly over mine, and only pulled away when Bri said, "Ugh, we're still at the table . There's food on it and everything."

"Congratulations, boys," said Uncle Boone. He was smiling fondly at us, a wistful look in his eye. He'd never been much of a talker, but he'd always had nothing but love and support for Bri and I after everything that happened. He didn't need to say anything at all, he showed us every day what we all meant to him. He slapped the table and then got up, saying something about dessert.

When Isaac and I got home later that evening, I laid him out on our bed, undressed him slowly, and showed him just how much I loved him. His sweet sighs and endless moans let me know just how much he liked being the recipient of my love, and I thanked fate for bringing us together.

After we'd cleaned up and were lying in bed, the TV on in the background and Isaac's entire body wrapped around mine, he said sleepily, "I don't need a ring, Brody. Your soul and my soul are already irrevocably entwined. You can't ever get rid of me. No matter where you go, you'll always be mine. I will find you?—"

"You know, that started really sweet, baby, and now it's veering into creepy," I laughed, kissing his head. "Should I take the ring back…?"

"No!" he practically shouted, hiding his left hand under his body. Presumably so I couldn't get to his ring. It only made me laugh harder. "No, it was a metaphor. No, not a metaphor. It was just a saying. You know, something people say. Like, you didn't have to do that. But really, deep down, they actually mean yes, yes you fucking did have to do that. So I'm keeping the ring. You can't take it back." He nuzzled his nose against my cheek and sighed. "I just love you so much. I'll try to be less creepy about it."

"You can express your love however you want, baby. I'll be right here with my perfect memory, never forgetting a single word you say, so that when we're old and can barely function, I'll be able to retell you every embarrassing moment of your life."

"That would literally just be every moment of my life."

"Mmhmm. And that's okay. Because I love you."

"Ugh. I love you too. So much it makes me creepy, apparently."

I laughed and hugged him tighter. I was never going to be bored again, was I?

No. Not with someone like him.

The End