Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 35133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
“What are you doing?” I ask, half laughing already because I have a feeling I know.
He doesn’t answer right away. He finishes the loop, tests it, then looks up at me.
And then he drops to one knee.
My breath catches.
“Ethan…”
“I don’t do things halfway,” he says, his voice steady, grounded, like everything else about him. “You know that.”
I nod, my chest tightening.
“You stopped running,” he continues. “You came up here. You stood in front of me and told me you’re staying. You chose this.”
His gaze holds mine, unwavering.
“You chose me.”
The world feels very quiet all of a sudden, the wind easing around us, the mountain stretching out in every direction like it’s holding this moment with us.
“I’m not asking you to give anything up,” he says. “I’m asking you to build something with me. Here. With me. No halfway. No maybe.”
My throat tightens, emotion rising too fast for me to get ahead of it.
“I want all of it,” he adds, his voice dropping slightly. “The stubbornness. The way you look at me when you think I’m wrong. The way you stand your ground. The way you don’t run anymore.”
He lifts the loop of twine.
“It’s not much,” he says, glancing at it briefly. “But I’ll fix that later.”
A laugh breaks out of me, shaky and real and completely overwhelmed.
“You are unbelievable.”
“Yeah.”
“You hiked me to the top of a mountain to propose with twine.”
“It’s symbolic.”
“It’s string.”
“It’s going to be a better story than a jewelry store.”
I laugh harder, wiping at my eyes because at some point I started crying without noticing.
“You’re insane.”
“Probably.”
I look at him, really look at him, at the man who stood between me and everything I was running from, who refused to let me disappear, who saw me exactly as I was and didn’t ask me to be anything else.
And I realize there isn’t a single part of me that wants to walk away.
“Okay,” I say.
His brow lifts slightly. “Okay?”
I nod, stepping closer, my heart racing in a way that feels nothing like fear.
“Yeah,” I say, smiling through it. “Yes. I’ll marry you.”
Something fierce and bright flashes across his face, and he stands, sliding the loop of twine onto my finger like it’s the most important thing he’s ever done.
I look down at it, then back up at him, laughing again.
“This might be the least impressive ring in history.”
“It’s temporary.”
“It’s twine.”
“It’s ours.”
That stops me.
The laughter softens into something warmer, steadier, deeper.
“Ours,” I repeat.
His hand comes up to my face, brushing lightly along my jaw, and I lean into it without thinking.
“Ours,” he says.
I don’t hesitate this time. I close the distance myself, rising onto my toes just enough to press my mouth to his, the kiss warm and sure and full of everything we just chose.
When he kisses me back, it’s steady and certain, like the mountain under our feet.
And for the first time in a long time, there’s nothing left behind me to run from.
Only everything in front of me to step into.
Second Epilogue
ten years later
Ethan
The woods are loud in the way that only matters when you know what to listen for.
Branches shifting under small boots. The sharp crack of something breaking that shouldn’t. A laugh that carries too far, too wild, too fearless.
I lean against the trunk of a pine at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed, watching.
“Easy,” Maddie calls out, her voice cutting clean through the noise without needing to be raised. “That branch won’t hold both of you.”
It doesn’t.
I see it a second before it happens. The slight bend, the strain in the wood.
“Eli,” I say, pushing off the tree, already stepping forward.
Too late.
The branch snaps, dropping both kids to the ground in a tangle of limbs and curses that sound a little too much like me.
There’s a beat.
Then laughter.
“Again,” Jace says, already scrambling back to his feet.
“Maybe don’t break your neck this time,” Maddie adds dryly.
I stop where I am, watching as they dust themselves off and head right back for the same damn tree.
“They don’t listen,” I mutter.
Maddie huffs out a quiet laugh beside me. “They do. Just not to you.”
I glance at her.
She’s standing a few feet away, one hand resting low on her stomach, the other shading her eyes as she watches them. The light filters through the trees, catching in her hair, softening the edges of everything that used to feel sharp.
She looks…steady.
Grounded.
Like she belongs here in a way that still hits me harder than it should, even after all this time.
“You should sit,” I say.
Her head turns slowly, one brow lifting. “Here we go.”
“You’ve been on your feet all morning.”
“I’ve been standing,” she corrects.
“You’re eight months pregnant.”
“With one this time,” she says, like that makes it easier. “I think I can handle standing in the woods.”
I step closer anyway.
My hand finds her waist out of habit, sliding around to rest over the curve of her stomach, feeling the weight of it, the warmth of it, the life we built sitting right there under my palm.