I catch Archer leaning in close to Creed, his voice loud enough for me to overhear. “You notice Betty’s niece, Perry, over there? She’s the one who did all these flowers, right? Damn good job. Pretty, too.”
Creed snorts, elbowing Judge in the ribs. “Betty’s already trying to set her up with one of us, you know that, right?”
Judge rolls his eyes, smirking. “Well, she’s not wrong. This family could use some new blood. You’ve got your eye on her, Archer?”
I smile to myself, the familiar teasing lightening the charged air. This is what makes it all feel so right—there’s no pretension here. Just real people, real love, and a community that’s taken me in and made me one of their own.
Barron steps up beside me, his presence solid, grounding. I turn to face him, and the world narrows down to just him. His gaze meets mine, and for a moment, all I can see is the man who’s changed everything for me. The man who’s become my anchor, my constant, my love.
The officiant begins speaking, but his words blur in the background. All I can focus on is Barron—the way his hand feels as it wraps around mine, warm and rough, like the land he’s worked with for years. His thumb brushes lightly over my knuckles, a small, grounding touch that sends warmth spiraling through me. His eyes never leave mine, and in them, I see everything—the future we’re about to build, the life we’ve already started, the love that will carry us through it all.
The ceremony is simple, just like us. No grand gestures, no long speeches—just two people who’ve found something real, something lasting. I can feel the weight of Barron’s love in every word he speaks, in every glance he throws my way. It’s steady, like the mountains surrounding us, unyielding and vast.
Before the officiant can even finish the final words, Barron clears his throat, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “With all due respect,” he says, his deep voice cutting through the air, “I can’t wait another moment longer.”
Laughter ripples through the small crowd, and I can’t help but chuckle too, my heart swelling at his impatience. It’s so him—direct, no need for long-winded moments. He knows what he wants, and right now, that’s me.
“I need her as my wife, now,” Barron says, turning to me with a look that sends a slow heat curling low in my stomach. His gaze is filled with love, with promise, and in that moment, I know I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. This man—my man—is everything I’ve ever wanted, ever needed, and standing here, on this mountain, I feel like I’ve finally come home.
When the officiant declares us husband and wife, Barron doesn’t hesitate. His arms are around me in an instant, pulling me close, and his mouth crashes down on mine in a kiss that’s deep, slow, and filled with everything we’ve shared. The world fades away, the sound of his brothers cheering in the background fading into the wind.
As we pull apart, Barron keeps his arms wrapped firmly around my waist, his forehead resting against mine. He glances over my shoulder at the view—the endless expanse of mountains and sky—and then his voice drops, low and rough, just for me. “This view,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion, “it’s like my love for you. Unending. As far as the eye can see.”
The words settle over me like a balm, filling every empty corner of my soul. I smile, my chest tight with love. He’s right. His love is vast, steady, and it’s become my whole world.
Cruz is the first to break the moment, his grin wide as he shouts, “Well, it’s about time! We thought you two would never seal the deal.”
“And now we’ve got to start worrying about when the first Copper Mountain baby’s gonna show up!” Knox adds, raising his beer in a mock toast.
Betty, never one to miss a moment, chimes in from where she’s standing with Perry, her voice full of teasing joy. “You know, I’ve been saying for years this mountain needs a new generation! Don’t keep us waiting too long now, you hear?”
My face flushes with heat, but the teasing feels like home—like family. I lean into Barron’s side, my hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm. I look up at him, and he meets my gaze with a soft smile.
“I guess we’ve got some expectations to live up to,” I say, my voice light but filled with affection.
Barron chuckles, his hand slipping to the small of my back as he pulls me closer. “Yeah, but I think we can handle it.”
As the crowd begins to disperse, Barron pulls me off to the side, away from the laughter and banter. His hand is warm and steady at my back, and when he turns to face me, his eyes are soft, vulnerable.
“You happy?” he asks, his voice low, but I can hear the weight of the question. He needs to know that this—us, the life we’re building—makes me as happy as it does him.
I lean into him, feeling the solidness of his chest against mine, the way his heart beats in time with my own. “More than I ever thought I could be,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion.
Barron nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He presses a kiss to my temple, his lips soft against myskin. “Good,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my hair. “Because this is just the beginning, Tamlyn. We’ve got a lifetime ahead of us.”
And as I look out over the endless view, with Barron’s arms wrapped around me, I know he’s right. This is just the beginning of our life together, a life that stretches out as far as the eye can see—filled with love, with family, with home.
Second Epilogue
Barron–three years later
The cold air nips at my cheeks, but it’s the kind of chill that’s familiar—comforting, even. I sit on the porch of the cabin, the one I built with my own two hands. The snow falls gently, coating everything in a soft, white blanket. It’s quiet up here, the only sound the crackle of the fire inside and the occasional squeal or laugh from the boys. My boys.
I never imagined this would be my life.
The cabin stands solid against the winter, just like it always has, but now it’s different. It’s not just a place anymore. It’s not just wood and nails and stone. It’s a home, filled with life—Tamlyn’s life, our sons’ lives, my life. I think back to when I started building it, years before Tamlyn walked into my world. Back then, I thought it’d be a retreat, a place to escape, to be alone with the land. Funny how things turn out. Now it’s the heart of everything I hold dear.
I lean back in the chair, watching the snow drift down. Each flake falls slow, deliberate, like it’s got all the time in the world. It reminds me of those quiet moments in the early mornings, right before the boys wake up and chaos reigns. The twins have endless energy—one minute they’re laughing, the next they’retackling each other, making it sound like they’re going to take the whole cabin down with them. And then there’s my youngest, our miracle boy. He came into the world too early, too fragile, but he’s a fighter.
