EPILOGUE Luke

Five Years Later

"Come down from there, stud," Tate hollered, turning toward me after closing the barbeque lid. "Hot dogs are almost done."

I stood, careful not to get twisted up in the nail gun's cord. "Not the hot dog I'm hungry for, love," I yelled back.

"Spoken like a true outsider," he stated.

After climbing down from the incomplete roof, I joined Tate near the RV we'd purchased. The trailer was for us to live in temporarily while we built our new home. And by temporary, I meant we'd already lived in it for two-plus years. We'd rented out the loft in town, choosing to live next door to our latest project to save money.

I'd completed my apprenticeship as a carpenter and was now a card-carrying union member at a construction company in Bend. After Tate and I purchased the riverfront lot we'd had our first kiss at, we saved for another year and began building a new home.

Tate slid his hand into the back of my shorts and moved it down to cup my butt cheek. "God, I love your ass."

"God and ass in one sentence?" I teased. "Two more bucks in the jar, mister."

I kissed the top of his head, and we turned to study the house. "I like the shingle colors," he said. "What's next? Can we move in yet?"

"If you don't want walls in your house, we can."

"You promised me," Tate whined. "I want a proper kitchen, right now."

I moved an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer. "Admit it, you'll miss the dining room bed," I joked. Our bed in the trailer was also our dining table. "Besides, I'm six-four, so what are you complaining about?"

"I'm ready for an actual bed, my love."

"Sounds like another complaint, mister," I pointed out. "Besides, aren't I taking care of you in the trailer's bed?"

Tate cozied up to me, kissing the bottom of my chin when I turned away like I was pouting. "Oh, trust me, stud. There is no complaint in that department."

"Six more months, love," I promised. "We have David all summer while he's on college break," I added. "Him and I together? We're gonna get the job done."

David and I didn't speak for three years after the day in the treehouse. Not because of what I'd learned that day, but more because he remained angry at me for so long. As I'd feared, he'd been assaulted by Franklin, right under my nose, and he blamed me for the abuse. In his words, I should've protected him.

And then, two and half years ago, out of the blue, he called, crying, asking if he could live with me and Tate. We welcomed him into our home, and he started high school locally. He was advanced because of homeschooling, so after testing him, he completed his senior year of high school and had just finished his first year at community college.

David attended counseling with me, and we managed to find our path back to each other, understanding that we had both been victims and weren't laying blame on anyone other than Franklin.

David discovered girls during his one year of high school. And by girls, I mean plenty of girls. As things turned out, he liked that aspect of the outside world best. The aspect where he got to choose his girl. Apparently, he was still in the discovery phase, with no plans of getting tied down to just one.

I secured a job for David at my workplace, so he worked with me part time during the school year, and full time in the summer to help pay his way. In exchange for us paying his rent on a small studio apartment near the college, he also assisted me and Tate with building our new house.

As for Ma, she has not visited us in Bend, refusing to be a part of a world she still believes is too different for her. However, she did remarry. She's now a full-fledged member, in good standing, of Half Moon Ranch. David and I visit her once a month on her turf now.

With David and I separated for three years before reconnecting, I hadn't been to the ranch in all that time. When he'd called to ask if he could live with us, I visited Ma to discuss her feelings about the topic. She had previously expressed that David needed to be eighteen before he could decide to live outside the ranch, but we managed to convince her to let him leave. She and I never spoke of Franklin.

I noticed the treehouse was gone on that last visit to Half Moon. I didn't ask when or why, but assumed they had their reasons. Other than telling Tate what I'd seen five years ago, the treehouse, and its secrets, were never discussed again.

"Did David actually say your mother killed Franklin?" he'd asked.

"No."

"Did your mother confess to you that she had?"

"No," I repeated.

"Then as far as we know, we know nothing," he'd stated.

That was the end of it. Tate continued to represent me in the event there were any further requirements or interviews with detectives. With the revelation of so many boys being abused at the hand of Franklin, the leadership there dismissed any interest in a continued investigation. Franklin's widow dropped her case against me as well. With no evidence to support who may have killed him, the story was slowly fading away, much like the scars David and I deal with every day.

As for Alec Browning, Tate's former boss? That story has its own drama. Alec continued harassing both of us for several months after the bond hearing, until one day, out of the blue, an article in the newspaper reported that he had been arrested for giving bribes to police officers to do his dirty work for him. And, if that wasn't enough, he broke laws with county officials whom he bribed to assist him with various changes to regulations so he could turn protected land into land he could develop for a profit.

His father, Browning, Sr., terminated him from the firm, phoning Tate soon after to join him again and run the company. Tate politely declined when Senior was unwilling to do any amount of pro bono work.

Tate ended up opening his own law firm four and a half years ago. He is the only attorney at his practice and accepts pro bono work when the disadvantaged cannot afford quality representation. He's developed a reputation for being a skilled defender, and a bit of an aggressive man, a man I vividly remember—also a man I hope to never see again. I prefer the loving man he is in every other aspect of his life.

"Is it a picnic night?" I asked, glancing at the grill. "More stargazing?"

"You know it," he replied.

The two of us had a nightly ritual during the warmer months. We'd spread a blanket next to the front side of the unfinished house, eat a meal, and watch the sunset over the river. There were many nights when we'd reenact our first kiss. And on many an occasion, our first everything.

He was a bit of an astronomy buff. Tate loved stars and the idea of distant planets, often creating entire worlds he'd tell me about as we gazed at the heavens. My favorite part was if I got slightly bored with the astronomy lesson, I'd demand a love payment for my previous attentiveness.

"You grab the usual stuff," I said. "I'll spread the blanket and take the food over."

Tate had exactly two beers every night when we were on our space tours. I had milk. Despite his best efforts, coffee and soda weren't of any interest to me, but I did drink a lot of milk. I told him that dairy kept me strong. He's never forgotten to keep a well-stocked fridge ever since.

Tate went into the trailer while I set up my surprise. There'd be an additional item tonight. Something I'd managed to hide from him, sneaking around and saving for several months.

Tate handed me the bag of chips when he returned, still standing, preoccupied with the night sky. "Wow!" he exclaimed, pointing to the edge of the sky over the Cascade mountains. "We can see the Milky Way tonight."

I patted the blanket, placing my arm so he'd have a pillow. "Lay, my love."

"Do you see it?" he asked, sliding into me. "I wish we could go there."

"What would we do there if we could, my love?" I asked, being sure to engage his interest.

"I'd find us our very own planet," he began, tracing his finger over my biceps, squeezing it every other lap, while he studied the stars. I imagined he was making sure I still had his favorite body part… well, second favorite, as it turned out.

"We'd be alone, though," I whispered, feeling calm as he gently caressed me.

"No one could ever take you away from me there."

"That would never happen there, or here, Mr. Finnigan."

"Ooohhhh, Mr. Finnigan, is it?" he teased. "I hope I'm in trouble."

I moved my arm from under his head and sat up. "I like your name," I stated casually. "Sounds so nice. Very professional and important." I stared at him, waiting until he looked at me. "Tate Finnigan," I whispered, repeating his name. "See how good that sounds?"

"I never liked my name," he admitted.

"How about Luke Finnigan?" I suggested. "That has a nice ring to it."

Tate gazed up at me. I think he was wondering why I'd emphasized the word ring. "I like my name attached to yours," he admitted. "Sounds nice just saying it. Luke Finnigan," he whispered. "Yeah, that is nice."

I lifted a corner of the blanket and secured a tiny box behind my back. "I'd take your name legally if you'd marry me."

Tate sat up, his eyes, as usual, filling. Perhaps he was nervous or worried my statement was just a casual side comment. In any event, he pointed to the sky, changing the subject. "Will you live with me on that planet?"

"I'd live on any planet with you, Mr. Finnigan, but I prefer Earth for right now."

"What are you doing, Luke?" he whispered, holding the hand I extended, the reservoirs in each of his eyes dangerously close to an overflow.

"What do you think I'm doing?" I asked, presenting a small box to him from behind my back.

"Do we have to stay on this planet?" he asked, lowering his eyes to the box he opened. The simple gold band within twinkled brighter than any of his stars. He lifted his face to me. "Because I'll stay here for you if you want."

"All you have to do is say yes, and I'll stay, or go, anywhere with you," I whispered, gazing at the man I loved. The man who rescued me, loved me, and shared his world with me.

"Well then, Mr. Luke Finnigan, the boy from Half Moon, my answer is yes."

THE END