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“Let’s go home,” he whispered.
Epilogue
Ava
By evening, the initial chaos of the raid had settled into a focused hub of physical labor. We’d returned from town to find that the structural core of the cabin had held up remarkably well. Because the mudslide had bypassed the central spine of the building, the master bathroom and its insulated plumbing lines were completely untouched. We had a working shower and a clean, safe place to wash the mountain soot from our skin, which felt like a minor miracle.
Rather than dealing with the logistical nightmare of finding a rental in town while federal investigators monitored the area, we unanimously chose to camp right in the heart of our ruined home. Though, if I were being honest, there was more to it than that. We might have been able to find a motel or B&B somewhere in town, but that would’ve meant either separate bedrooms or striking up unnecessary gossip among people who didn’t have anything better to do with their time.
We wanted to be together, even if it would be some time before we’d have a proper bedroom again. Bedroom, singular.
We dragged three thick mattresses from the undamaged side bedrooms into the center of the living room, clustering them close to the stone hearth. It was rough, and the air reeked of plaster dust and damp cedar, but it was ours. We weren’t leaving the cabin.
For the next three days, the renovations started again. The gritty, back-breaking work of reclamation. Together, the four of us operated like the same flawless machine that had survived the siege.
We hauled buckets of wet earth out of the kitchen, swept away thousands of crystalline shards of shattered glass, and stacked the remaining framing lumber against the walls. But our collective focus always came back to the center of the cabin: the massive stone fireplace. The hearth had survived the blast, standing proud and unyielding amid the wreckage. A stalwart. A testament to who we were and what we’d been through. It was the only logical place to begin our official piece of restoration.
“Alright, the layout looks clean,” Ethan said, wiping a streak of dark grey mortar from his forearm as he stepped back from the newly positioned cedar mantelpiece. The afternoon sun was finally starting to dip below the tree line, casting a warm, honey-colored light through the open timber frames. “We need to cap the face stones before the mix cures.”
Nate grunted in approval, his large, calloused hands smoothing down the final layer of wet, dark finish concrete along the edge of the hearth. He looked more genuinely at peace than I’d ever seen him, even despite his exhaustion. Deacon stood just behind him, leaning his shoulder against the log column, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he watched us work.
I stepped up to the edge of the wet mortar, the idea I’d had the moment we started working on restoring the hearth now finally coming to fruition.
“Before it sets,” I murmured, looking between the three of them, my voice thick with an emotion I didn’t care to hide anymore. “We need to leave a mark. Something that stays here permanently.”
Ethan smiled, his dark eyes melting with the same intense devotion he’d shown me during this entire adventure, keeping me steady as he always did. He stepped forward first, pressing the pad of his right thumb firmly into the smooth, wet concrete face of the stone, angling it slightly to the left.
“Your turn,” he whispered.
I leaned in close beside him, our shoulders brushing as I pressed my own thumb into the mortar directly next to his print, angling it to the right. Together, the two impressions joined perfectly at the base, forming a beautifully indented heart in the stone.
Deacon didn’t wait to be asked. He stepped out from the shadows, his large hand steady as he pressed his thumb into the concrete a few inches to the right of Ethan’s print. I met his gaze, holding the fierce, protective heat in his eyes as I pressed my thumb down next to his, leaving a second interlocking heart stamped deep into the mantle.
Finally, Nate stepped up. He didn’t say a word, but the gentle tenderness with which he guided my hand toward the final patch of smooth mortar said everything. He pressed his thumb into the mixture, and I completed the final shape beside him, our shared print locking our signatures together forever.
Three concrete hearts sat side-by-side in the ancient stone of the hearth. They were an indestructible, permanent symbol of the bond we had forged in the dark, mud, and mire of Blackwood Lake.
We cleaned up before reconvening in front of the fireplace, admiring our work.
Outside, the last lingering storm clouds broke apart, giving way to a spectacular, blazing sunset that flooded the living room with brilliant gold and crimson light. The cabin was a mess, and the work ahead of us was enormous, but as I looked at the three hearts set in stone, I knew we were already home.
As we stepped back, Ethan wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me tight against his side, while Deacon got a fire started.
“We should probably get started on dinner,” I said distractedly, leaning into Ethan’s warmth.
He hummed, nuzzling his face into my neck, and I knew what he was thinking. It was as if the guys were all running on the same frequency because Nate and Deacon immediately came closer, exchanging a look between them that told me dinner would be very, very late tonight.
I groaned, slapping a hand over my face. “Really? Aren’t you exhausted after all that hard labor?”
Deacon grabbed my wrist, and Ethan let me go as he dragged me towards him. “Not even in the slightest,” he murmured, kissing me.
I laughed softly in frustration, but I twined my arms around his neck anyway, opening myself up to the kiss. Nate moved behind me, kissing my ear. “You could let us do all the work if you’re so drained, Ava.”
A light shiver ran down my spine at his words, and I turned my head to respond when he swept in with a kiss of his own, not even giving me the opportunity. Deacon went for my open neck, peppering kisses along the side and sliding his tongue down while his fingers began working the buttons and zipper of my clothing.
I moaned into Nate’s mouth, letting them do whatever they wanted. His tongue danced with mine, deepening our kiss until I squealed, shocked by Deacon’s hot mouth on my chest. I felt a hand slide down my panties, and I wasn’t even sure who it belonged to. All I knew was that I wanted more of everything. Of all of them.
But just like with the counter-strike, the guys seemed to be moving in perfect sync with one another. Nate and Deacon both let go of me, leaving me already breathless and frowning until Ethan lifted me up from behind and playfully threw me onto one of the mattresses.
