Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 29645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Second Epilogue
Levi
one year later
If you’d told me a year ago that I’d be standing in the church parking lot stringing up balloons again—married, steady, and watching my wife walk around like she owns the town—I would’ve called you insane.
Now?
I’m holding a ladder while Mrs. Dottie critiques ribbon angles, and Sadie is seven steps away arguing about raffle ticket placement with a hand on her very pregnant hip.
Life’s funny like that.
“Lieutenant Kane,” Mrs. Dottie says primly, adjusting her hat. “We always knew you two would come to your senses.”
I tighten the last knot and climb down the ladder. “You mean when you forced her onto that stage and turned me into a bidder?”
She beams. “Divine intervention.”
I snort. “You call that divine?”
“Absolutely. Look at you now.”
I do.
Sadie’s in a loose sundress, belly round and sexy, sunlight catching in her hair. The ring I slid onto her finger last year flashes when she gestures animatedly at Tyler, who’s pretending to take notes like she’s commanding an army.
She catches me staring. Her lips curve. “Stop brooding,” she calls out. “You’re scaring the bake sale.”
“I don’t brood.”
“You absolutely brood.”
The church ladies cackle like they’ve been waiting for this exchange.
“She keeps him in line,” Mrs. Henderson whispers loudly to Mrs. Crenshaw.
“I don’t need keeping,” I mutter.
Sadie strolls over, slower these days but no less confident, and slides her hand into mine.
“You absolutely do,” she murmurs under her breath.
Her fingers are warm, familiar.
“You shouldn’t be lifting those boxes,” I say quietly.
She rolls her eyes. “They’re napkins.”
“They’re heavy.”
“They’re paper.”
“You’re due any day.”
She leans closer, smirking. “Relax.”
The word does the opposite of what she intends.
I’ve been on edge for weeks. Watching every step she takes. Listening to every shift in her breathing.
“You hovering again?” she teases.
“I’m supervising.”
“You’re pacing.”
“I’m prepared.”
“For what?” she asks sweetly.
“For anything.”
Mrs. Dottie appears between us like summoned chaos.
“We were just telling everyone how we practically matchmade you two,” she says proudly.
“You practically ambushed us,” I correct.
She waves a dismissive hand. “Same thing.”
Sadie giggles.
The sound still does something to my chest.
“Honestly,” Mrs. Henderson adds, peering at Sadie’s belly, “we should get a plaque. A mountain wedding last year and now a new little firecracker on the way.”
Sadie laughs and squeezes my hand.
“She’s not even here yet and she’s already got a reputation,” she says.
“Hotshot junior,” Tyler calls from across the parking lot.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Careful.”
The church ladies exchange delighted looks. “See?” Mrs. Dottie says. “Protector mode.”
“I’m always in protector mode,” I reply evenly.
Sadie bumps her hip lightly against mine. “Relax, Lieutenant.”
“I’m relaxed.”
She raises an eyebrow.
I lean down slightly so only she can hear. “You’re carrying my kid. I’m not relaxed.”
Her expression softens for half a second before she masks it with a grin.
“You’re still playing with fire,” she whispers.
“You’re still my stubborn little hotshot.”
She beams. The event hums around us—kids running with lemonade cups, church ladies gossiping about raffle prizes, the crew setting up dunk tanks.
It feels normal.
Which is why the moment her grip tightens unexpectedly, I notice instantly.
She goes quiet.
“Sadie?”
Her face shifts—confused, then focused.
“Don’t freak out,” she says calmly.
I immediately freak out. “What?”
“I think—” She stops mid-sentence and inhales sharply. A second later, her eyes widen. “Oh.”
“Oh what?” I demand.
She looks down between us. Then back up at me. “My water just broke.”
The world tilts. “What?”
“It’s fine,” she says quickly. “It’s just—”
“Now?”
“Yes, Levi, now.”
The church ladies freeze like statues. Tyler drops a stack of flyers. Mrs. Dottie gasps so loudly I think she might faint. I don’t hesitate. I scoop Sadie into my arms before she can protest.
“Hey!” she yelps, gripping my shoulders. “I can walk!”
“I know.”
“You’re being dramatic!”
“You’re having a baby!”
“That is how this works!”
The crew snaps into motion like a call just came in.
Sawyer shouts, “Get the engine!”
“Seriously?” Sadie laughs breathlessly.
“Absolutely,” I say, already moving toward the bay doors. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”
The siren wails to life as we pull out. Not because it’s an emergency. Because I refuse to get stuck behind a tractor on Main Street.
Sadie sits beside me in the passenger seat of the fire engine, one hand gripping mine between contractions.
“This is excessive,” she mutters.
“You’re delivering my daughter.”
“I’m aware.”
“You okay?”
She exhales slowly. “I’m fine.”
“You’re sure?”
She squeezes my hand harder. “Levi.”
“Yeah?”
“Drive.”
I hit the siren again. The town parts for us like we’re responding to a blaze. In a way, we are.
At the hospital, everything blurs into motion and bright lights and nurses guiding her onto a bed while I refuse to let go of her hand.
“You need to breathe,” she says between contractions, glaring at me.
“I am breathing.”
“You’re hyperventilating.”
“I’m fine.”
She grips my collar and pulls me closer.
“Look at me,” she orders.
I do.
“I’ve got this,” she says firmly.
“I know.”
“Stop looking like someone’s about to light you on fire.”
I huff a shaky laugh. “You are.”
She smirks despite the pain. “Still dramatic.”
Hours blur together. I stay right there. Counting breaths. Brushing damp hair from her forehead. Whispering nonsense in her ear just to keep her focused on my voice.