Second Epilogue

Tessa–one year later

The cabin glows warm under the soft light spilling through the windows. Inside, the faint coos of our baby, Rowan, drift through the cracked door to the nursery. My heart clenches as I rock back and forth on the porch swing, the rhythm soothing, steady. Finn’s hand rests on my thigh, his touch as constant as the mountain winds that whistle through the trees.

The view from here never gets old. The copper-rich hills of Devil’s Peak catch the last golden rays of the setting sun, casting an ethereal glow over the Phantom River as it snakes its way down the valley. The world feels vast and endless, but somehow, Finn has made it feel small. Manageable. Home.

“I never thought I’d see you sit still for more than a minute,” I tease, nudging him with my foot.

He huffs, his smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Still doesn’t come easy, sunshine.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” I murmur, leaning into his shoulder. His flannel shirt is warm and smells of sawdust and cedar. “You’re practically domesticated now.”

Finn snorts, but his arm tightens around me. “Don’t start thinking I’ve gone soft.”

“You? Soft?” I glance up, raising an eyebrow. “Please, the only thing soft about you is?—”

“Tread carefully,” he warns, his voice dropping an octave, low and rough.

The tension between us ignites instantly, the way it always does. His gaze pins me, and I swear he can see every thought I’ve ever had. Heat blooms low in my belly, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing just how easily he undoes me. Not yet.

“Fine,” I say, biting my lip to hold back a grin. “I was going to say the only thing soft about you is your obsession with Shep.”

Finn scoffs, shaking his head. “That dog’s earned his place. You? Still on probation.”

“Excuse me?” I sit up straighter, feigning offense. “I gave you a son, Finn Taylor. I think I deserve a little more credit than your dog.”

Finn turns to me fully, his hand sliding up to rest on my hip. “You gave me a miracle, Tessa,” he says, his voice softer now, though no less intense. “But Shep doesn’t wake me up at two in the morning with demands for foot rubs and snacks.”

“I’m breastfeeding your child,” I counter, narrowing my eyes. “You’re lucky that’s all I’m asking for.”

His laugh rumbles deep in his chest, and it’s so rare, so genuine, that I can’t help but join in. This is what I love most about him—his ability to hold me in the palm of his hand one second and have me laughing the next. It’s infuriating and intoxicating, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

The screen door creaks open, and Shep pads out, his tail wagging lazily. He flops down at Finn’s feet, his massive head resting on his paws, as if to say, I’m the real miracle here.

“See?” Finn gestures to the dog. “He knows his place.”

“I think he just wanted to escape Rowan’s crying,” I say, leaning back against Finn’s chest. “Smart dog.”

Finn’s arms wrap around me, holding me close. We sit in silence for a while, the night settling around us. The stars begin to peek out, dotting the sky like tiny promises. This is our life now—quiet, messy, and more beautiful than I ever imagined.

Later, as Rowan finally settles for the night, Finn and I linger on the porch, the cool mountain air brushing against our skin. I run my fingers over the copper ring on my finger, its simplicity a constant reminder of Finn’s steady, unwavering love.

“You know,” I start, my voice light, “I hated you when I moved here.”

Finn tilts his head, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Oh, I remember.”

“I mean it,” I continue, turning to face him. “You were loud, grumpy, and had zero respect for my flowerbeds.”

“And you had a rooster that thought 5 a.m. was a reasonable wake-up call,” he shoots back, his tone teasing. “Not to mention you wouldn’t stop complaining about my mining equipment.”

“Because it was loud,” I say, crossing my arms. “And it ruined my quiet mornings.”

He leans in, his face so close I can see the flecks of gold in his green eyes. “You hated me,” he says, his voice low, “because you couldn’t resist me.”

The words hang between us, charged and electric. He’s not wrong, and he knows it. But I refuse to let him have the last word.

“Maybe,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “Or maybe you were just really bad at being neighborly.”

Finn laughs, the sound warm and rich. “Fair point.”

The air shifts, the playful banter giving way to something deeper. He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering against my skin. “You saved me, Tessa,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “Before you, I didn’t know what it meant to really live.”

My throat tightens, the weight of his words settling over me. “You saved me, too,” I whisper, leaning into his touch. “You made me believe in second chances. We’re like the invisible string theory of love,” I muse. “Life pulled us apart and timing put us back together because we were fated to love each other.”

Finn groans with soft reverence, then pulls me closer, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that’s slow and deliberate, as if he’s memorizing every detail. His hands trail down my back, pulling me against him, and I melt into his warmth, his strength, his love.

“I love you,” he murmurs against my lips. “More than I ever thought I could love anyone.”

“I love you, too,” I reply, my voice trembling with emotion. “Always.”

As the night deepens, we retreat inside, the fire casting a soft glow over the room. Finn pulls me into his lap, his hands roaming over my body as if he can’t get enough. The world fades away, leaving only us—two souls bound together, finding home in each other.

“You’re mine, Tessa,” he says, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down my spine. “Always have been. Always will be.”

I look into his eyes, my heart swelling with love and gratitude. “And you’re mine,” I say, my voice steady and sure. “Forever.”

Finn smiles, a rare, genuine smile that lights up his entire face. “Forever,” he echoes, pulling me into another kiss.

Outside, the stars shine brighter, as if the universe itself is celebrating our love—a love as enduring as the copper veins running through the mountain, unyielding and eternal.

The End.