Some wounds heal cleaner than you'd expect.
Derek never came back. The MC made sure of that. I don't ask for details, and they don't offer them. Sometimes it's better not to know. What matters is that three years have passed without a single word from him. Without a single threat. Without Claire checking over her shoulder every time we leave the house.
She's free. Really, truly free.
And in about five minutes, she's going to be my wife.
"You good?" Murphy asks quietly.
"Yeah." I take a breath. "Yeah, I'm good."
Music starts, something classical that Claire picked out, played through speakers Eli helped me set up yesterday. Everyone stands, turning toward the house.
Jackson comes out first, carrying a small pillow with the rings tied to it. He's wearing a little suit that matches mine, his dark hair combed neat, and he's taking his job very seriously. His face is set in concentration as he walks down the aisle, making sure not to trip, not to drop the rings.
When he reaches the front, he grins at me. "I didn't drop them!"
"Good job, buddy," I whisper.
He takes his place next to Murphy, who was somehow talked into being best man even though he kept insisting he was too old for that kind of responsibility.
Then Claire appears in the doorway, and everything else disappears.
She's beautiful.
The dress is simple—ivory, fitted at the top, flowing at the bottom, nothing too fancy because that's not Claire's style. Her dark blonde hair is down, falling in soft waves over her shoulders. She's glowing in that way pregnant women do, her hand resting on the slight swell of her stomach where our daughter is growing.
Our daughter. We found out two months ago. Jackson cried happy tears and immediately started making plans to teach his little sister about dinosaurs.
Claire's father walks her down the aisle, and I can see him whispering something that makes her smile. When they reach the front, he shakes my hand. Firm grip, steady eye contact, and places her hand in mine.
"Take care of her," he says.
"Always," I promise.
He nods and takes his seat next to his wife, who's openly crying now.
Claire looks up at me, brown eyes bright, and mouths, *Hi.*
*Hi,* I mouth back.
The officiant, a retired judge from the county who owed me a favor, starts talking about love and commitment and building a life together. I should be listening. This is important. But I'm too busy looking at Claire, at the way the sunlight catches in her hair, at the smile she can't quite hide.
Three years ago, she showed up in Blackwater Falls with everything she owned in four duffel bags and terror in her eyes. Now she's standing in front of the whole town, marrying the sheriff, pregnant with our daughter, and looking happier than I've ever seen her.
We did that. Together.
The judge says something about vows, and Claire squeezes my hands.
"I wrote something," she says, her voice steady despite the tears gathering in her eyes. "Is that okay?"
"Of course."
She takes a breath. "Tom. Three years ago, I got off a bus in a town I'd never heard of, running from a life I couldn't survive anymore. I had no plan, no hope, no idea what came next. And then you showed up." Her voice cracks. "You showed up and you helped me carry my bags, even though I was a stranger. You found me a job and a place to stay. You made my son feel safe and valued and loved. You gave me a home when I had nowhere to go."
I blink hard, trying not to lose it in front of the entire town.
"You taught me what a good man looks like," she continues. "What it means to be protected instead of controlled. What it feels like to be loved for who I am, not who someone wants me to be. You gave me a family—" she gestures at the crowd "—all of you. You gave me a life I didn't think I deserved."
