Epilogue

G rady–one week later

The Phantom River glimmers like molten gold under the afternoon sunlight. The valley hums with life—kids squealing as they chase each other around the picnic tables, the clink of beer bottles, and the warm buzz of laughter. It’s the kind of scene that feels timeless, like it’s been happening for generations and will keep happening long after I’m gone.

Except this time, it’s not just me watching from the edges. I’m here. And I’m not alone.

Sarah’s hand is tucked into mine, her ring finger glimmering with her new wedding band, her fingers soft and sure. She’s laughing at something Ridge said, her face glowing under the soft brim of her sunhat. It’s ridiculous how good she looks in the simple sundress she’s wearing, the fabric brushing her curves in a way that makes it impossible not to stare. I clear my throat and look away before I do something inappropriate with half the damn town watching. Sarah and I were married on the riverbank just an hour ago, and now we’re celebrating with everyone that matters.

“Grady,” Zane drawls as he saunters up, a beer in one hand and his usual smirk in place. “Didn’t think I’d live to see the day. You? Married? To a sunshiney schoolteacher? What happened to the gruff, no-nonsense lumberjack I used to know?”

“He found someone who could put up with his growling,” Ridge cuts in, slapping me on the shoulder as he joins the conversation. Quinn stands nearby, cradling Slate and Emma’s new baby. “Not gonna lie, Grady. I’m a little disappointed. Thought you’d be the last of the crew to bite the bullet.”

I grunt, my grip tightening on my beer. “Keep running your mouth, Ridge, and see where it gets you.”

“Aw, come on,” Ridge teases, leaning in closer. “You gotta admit, it’s funny how Zane’s little prank with that mail-order bride ad ended up roping you in too. Who knew the lumberjack had a romantic streak?”

“You’re testing my patience, Warner,” I warn, though there’s no real heat in it. These guys are my brothers in all the ways that count, even if they drive me insane.

Zane winks. “Hey, I just set the stage. You’re the one who fell head over heels. Or should I say, Bear is the one who did the matchmaking.”

I snort, glancing down at Bear, who’s sprawled in the shade with a bone Sarah brought him from the bakery. The old dog looks as content as I feel. “Bear’s got better instincts than most of you. He knew Sarah was the one before I did.”

“And now you’re all domesticated,” Slate chimes in, appearing out of nowhere with a plate piled high with barbecue. “What’s next? Aprons and matching Christmas pajamas?”

The image they’re painting is ridiculous, but I find myself grinning anyway. “Say what you want,” I tell them, my voice steady. “But I didn’t just settle down. I found the best damn thing in the world.”

That shuts them up for a second, though Ridge mutters something about me going soft under his breath. I don’t care. Let them say whatever they want. They don’t know what it’s like to have Sarah look at you like you hung the damn moon.

The picnic stretches into the evening, the golden sunlight giving way to a rich, velvety twilight. Lanterns strung between trees start to glow, and someone pulls out a guitar. The kids settle down, the adults gather closer, and the air fills with music and murmured conversation.

Sarah is by my side the entire time, her presence grounding me in a way I didn’t know I needed. Every time I glance at her, she’s smiling—whether it’s at Margie Warner, who’s insisting Sarah try her famous peach cobbler, or at the kids showing off their paper airplanes. It hits me, hard and sudden, that this is what I’ve been missing. Not just the sense of community, but the way she makes it all feel like home.

As the stars start to prick the sky, I pull Sarah away from the crowd, leading her toward the edge of the river. The sounds of the picnic fade as we walk, replaced by the gentle rush of water and the whisper of the wind through the trees.

“Where are we going?” she asks, her voice soft but curious.

“Just trust me,” I say, squeezing her hand.

When we reach the riverbank, I stop, turning to face her. The moonlight casts a silver glow over her skin, making her look like something out of a dream. For a moment, I just stand there, taking her in, my chest tight with emotions I’m still learning to name.

“What?” she asks, her lips curving into a small smile. “You’ve got that look again.”

“What look?”

“The one that makes me nervous,” she teases, but there’s a tenderness in her tone.

I step closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You make me want things I didn’t think I could have.”

Her smile falters, her eyes searching mine. “Like what?”

“Like this.” I gesture to the river, the mountains, the sky above us. “You. A life that feels... whole.”

Her breath catches, and for a second, I think I’ve said too much. But then she steps closer, her hands resting on my chest. “Grady,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “You already have me. You’ve had me since the moment Bear stole my cookies.”

The laugh that escapes me is low and rough, but it fades quickly as I cup her face in my hands. “You’re everything, Sarah. Everything I didn’t know I needed.”

And then I kiss her, slow and deep, pouring everything I can’t put into words into that single moment. She melts against me, her hands sliding up to my shoulders as she kisses me back with a fierceness that steals my breath.

By the time we return to the picnic, the guitar has been replaced by a speaker playing old country tunes, and people are swaying under the lanterns. Sarah tugs me onto the makeshift dance floor, her laughter lighting up the night. I’m not much of a dancer, but with her in my arms, it feels natural. Right.

Margie Warner passes by, clutching Slate and Emma’s baby, and winks at us. “You two are next,” she says with a sly smile.

Sarah laughs, her cheeks pink. “Next for what?”

“You know what,” Margie says, her voice sing-song. “A little one running around. Grady, you better keep up.”

I groan, but Sarah just laughs, leaning into me. “What do you think, Mr. Stevens? Are you ready for that?”

I look down at her, my heart swelling. “With you? I’m ready for anything.”

“Good,” she murmurs, her hand stroking my thick beard, “because you’re never getting rid of me. Your beard has become my emotional support animal.”

A laugh rumbles out of me, her words warming every formerly cold corner of my heart. I kiss her again, this time in front of everyone.

And as the sun dips below the mountains, painting the sky with hues of gold and crimson, I know one thing for certain: this is just the beginning. Our love is as steady and unshakable as the mountains around us, and together, we can weather anything.