Second Epilogue

Sarah–two years later

The sound of children’s laughter drifts through the crisp mountain air, mingling with the rustle of the Phantom River below. My classroom may be my usual domain, but right now, the chaos of three nine-month-old babies feels like a lesson in patience I wasn’t entirely prepared for.

“Iris!” I call, catching our daughter mid-wobble before she topples over. Her big brown eyes, so much like Grady’s, light up as I set her back on her feet. She squeals with delight and reaches for Isaac, who’s already crawling at lightning speed toward the picnic table. Ian is, predictably, trying to eat a pinecone.

“Grady!” I call over my shoulder, struggling to keep up with all three. “Your sons are feral, and your daughter’s about to lead a mutiny.”

Grady saunters out of the cabin, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. He has a smug grin on his face and a baby bottle in one hand. “My sons?” he drawls, arching a brow. “Pretty sure they take after you.”

“Hardly,” I scoff, dodging a tiny flying sock. “This level of chaos has your name written all over it.”

He laughs, low and rough, and I feel it like a shiver down my spine. Nine months of parenthood, and Grady still has the ability to make me weak in the knees with just a look.

“Come here, you little troublemakers,” he says, scooping up Isaac in one arm and Ian in the other like it’s nothing. His voice softens as he presses a kiss to each of their heads. “And you,” he murmurs, crouching to kiss Iris on the cheek. “Keeping your brothers in line?”

Iris babbles something incomprehensible, and Grady chuckles like she’s just told him the funniest joke in the world. Watching him with our kids does something to my heart, twisting and filling it all at once.

The party is in full swing now, our cabin buzzing with family and friends. Ridge and Quinn are here with their little one, Slate and Emma are chasing their toddler around, and Grady’s best friends—Liam, Finn, Cal, and Fox—are deep in some heated debate over who brought the better whiskey.

I lean against the kitchen counter, watching Grady mingle. He’s not much of a social butterfly, but today he’s in his element, surrounded by the people he loves. Lila, Holt Warner’s wife is holding Iris, cooing over her curls, while Margie Warner, Holt, Ridge, and Slate’s mom, tries to wrangle Isaac and Ian.

“You’ve got a good one there,” Quinn says, sidling up beside me. She’s balancing her baby on one hip, her gaze warm and knowing.

“I do,” I admit, unable to stop the smile that spreads across my face. “Though sometimes I wonder how I got so lucky.”

Quinn laughs softly. “I think we all wonder that with these mountain men. But they’d probably say the same about us.”

Before I can reply, Grady’s voice booms from the living room. “Sarah! Get over here.”

I roll my eyes but make my way over, pretending to be annoyed. “What now, birthday boy?”

Grady’s grin is pure mischief as he takes my hand and pulls me close, his other arm wrapping around my waist. “Just wanted everyone to see how lucky I am.”

“Grady,” I whisper, my cheeks flushing as everyone turns to look. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“Good,” he says, his voice dropping low enough that only I can hear. “Because you’ve been driving me crazy all day, looking like that.”

I smack his chest, laughing, but my heart skips a beat at the heat in his gaze. Even surrounded by family and friends, Grady has a way of making me feel like I’m the only person in the world.

As the sun dips below the mountains, casting everything in hues of gold and orange, Grady gathers everyone on the back deck. The Phantom River sparkles in the distance, and the air hums with the sounds of cicadas and laughter.

“Before we wrap this up,” Grady says, his voice carrying over the crowd, “there’s something I need to do.”

I glance at him, puzzled, but he just winks at me.

He gestures toward Bear, who’s snoozing in his usual spot by the fire pit. “You all know Bear’s been my best friend for years. Kept me company when I didn’t think I needed anyone else. But now...” He pauses, his voice softening. “Now I’ve got Sarah. And these little ones.” He nods toward the kids, who are being passed around like prized treasures. “Bear’s earned his rest.”

As if on cue, a tiny white fluffball tumbles out of the cabin, all paws and energy. The crowd erupts into laughter and coos as the puppy barks and trips over his own feet, heading straight for Grady.

“This,” Grady says, scooping up the puppy, “is Hobbs. Bear’s new apprentice.”

The kids squeal with delight, and even Bear lifts his head, wagging his tail lazily.

“Grady,” I breathe, my heart swelling. “He’s perfect.”

Grady leans down, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Not as perfect as you.”

As the party winds down, Margie takes the kids back to the lodge for the night, giving us a rare moment of quiet. The cabin feels impossibly still without the chaos of three babies and a dozen family members, but it’s a good still. A peaceful still.

Grady pulls me into his arms as we stand by the fire, the flickering flames casting shadows on his face. “Happy?” he asks, his voice low and rough.

I nod, resting my head against his chest. “More than I ever thought I could be.”

He tilts my chin up, his gaze dark and intent. “Good. Because you’re mine, Sarah. Always.” His kiss is slow and thorough, leaving no room for doubt. “Now, whaddya say we revisit that night in the sauna? Maybe a little cold plunge first to get the heart racin’?”

He lifts me into his arms and I giggle as he carries me out to the porch and I can’t help but think that saying yes to the grumpy lumberjack’s ad was the best decision I ever made.

The End