I open her door and help her climb into the truck.
She smiles up at me.
"What?"
"I was just thinking..."
"What?"
"I can't wait to be your wife."
I grin all the way around the truck.
"And I can't wait to spend the rest of my life making sure you never doubt how loved you are."
She reaches across the console after I start the truck. Our fingers lace together. This time...Neither of us lets go.
EPILOGUE
LUCY
Two years later
I pullinto the driveway of our house on the compound as the sun sits low in the sky, painting the front porch in a warm, golden glow that makes the whole place look like home. Wyatt and Weston built this house exactly like Tiny and I sketched it five years ago, right down to the big windows that let in plenty of light and the wide porch that holds two rocking chairs where we sit most evenings, talking quietly as the compound winds down. I cut the engine and sit for a minute, my scrubs still carrying that sharp hospital scent while my feet ache from the long shift, even though my heart feels full and satisfied.
The front door opens before I even reach the steps. Tiny steps out wearing his usual jeans and black shirt, his eyes finding mine right away. That look he gives me never changes. It makes my chest tighten with love every single time. He walks down the steps quickly and pulls me into his arms before I can say a word, lifting me slightly off the ground as he buries his face in my hair.
“Long day, Buttercup?” he asks, his voice low and rough like always. “Tell me you kicked ass out there. I missed you like hell today.”
I lean into his solid chest, listening to the steady thud of his heartbeat under my ear. “Busy but good. One little boy finally went home after weeks in my unit. His mom cried happy tears right there in the hallway.”
Tiny kisses the top of my head, his big hand rubbing my back slowly and soothingly. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, pride thick in his voice as he holds me even tighter. “Making a fucking difference every damn shift. I don’t know how you do it, Buttercup, but I’m so proud of you. You amaze me every single day.” I feel the depth of his pride in the way he squeezes me, like he never wants to let go.
We walk inside together, the house smelling deliciously like the chicken he has cooking in the oven. Toys are scattered across the living room rug from when the club kids came over yesterday, and I kick off my shoes before sinking onto the couch with a tired sigh. Tiny sits right beside me and pulls my feet into his lap without me asking, his thumbs pressing into the sore spots just right.
“You spoil me rotten,” I say with a smile, watching his face.
He looks at me seriously, eyes intense. “You work hard, Buttercup. You deserve it and more. I’d rub these pretty feet every night for the rest of my life if it kept that smile on your face.” His hands keep moving steadily while he looks content, the lines around his eyes relaxed. This life we built together agrees with him beautifully.
My phone buzzes on the table. A text from Scarlett lights up the screen. “Girls night at the clubhouse tomorrow. Tessa is bringing her famous cookies. Hadley says she has new baby pictures. You in?”
I laugh softly and read it out loud to Tiny. He chuckles deeply. “Tell them yes. I’ll be in Church anyway. You girls keep each other sane. Lord knows I need my Buttercup happy and laughing when she comes home to me.”
I text back quickly. These women have become my best friends over the years. Scarlett with her sharp humor, Tessa who survived so much and still loves so deeply, Hadley who keeps the twins on their toes, and Erica who found her strength beside Steele. We lean on each other through long shifts, club drama, and everything in between. They feel like sisters now.
Tiny finishes rubbing my feet and pulls me closer, his strong arm wrapping around my shoulders. “I’m so proud of you, Lucy,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “Registered nurse for over a year now. The hospital knows they got a damn good one. My wife. My Buttercup.”
Heat rises in my cheeks. “I couldn’t have done it without you. You drove me to every class, stayed up late when I studied, made sure I ate…”
He shakes his head and cups my face gently. “You did the hard part, baby. I just loved you through it. Like I always will.”
We eat dinner at the kitchen table, the chicken tasting perfect as Tiny listens intently while I tell him about my patients. He shares what happened at the garage today, his hands gesturing animatedly.
After we clean up, I stand at the sink rinsing plates when a sudden wave of nausea hits me. I grip the counter tightly until it passes quickly, but it leaves me thinking. I’ve felt off for a week, tired in a way I’ve never felt before. I bought a couple of tests yesterday and hid it in my bag. My hands shake a little as I dry them now. I turn to Tiny, watching him wipe the table, his shoulders moving easily under his shirt. Love for him swells in my chest until it hurts. “I need to run to the bathroom real quick,” I say, keeping my voice steady enough.
He nods. “Take your time, Buttercup. I’ll make us some tea.”
In the bathroom I pull out the test. My heart pounds while I wait the three minutes. The two lines appear clear and unmistakable. Positive. I set it carefully on the counter and stare at it as tears blur my vision. Joy rushes through me so strongly my knees feel weak. A baby. Our baby. But panic hits right after. What if it’s wrong? I grab the second test with shaky hands. When I try to open it, I fumble the stick completely. It slips through my fingers, bounces off the sink, and plops straight into the toilet with a splash.
