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Ryder pulls back slightly, his eyes darkening as they flick to my mouth. “So,” he murmurs, voice dipping lower. “Are we gonna break in the bedroom first, or should we start right here?”

I chuckle as his breath hitches, and it only makes me grin harder.

“Living room,” I decide. “Then the bedroom. Then the kitchen. Then the fucking garage, if we make it that far. Might have to defile every square inch just to be sure it’s really ours.”

Ryder groans, his fingers tightening on my hips. “I can get on board with that.”

I smirk, dragging my teeth along his bottom lip before nipping at it gently. “I love you, always. You’re home, baby.”

“I love you, too,” he replies, eyes soft even as his body practically vibrates with want.

Then, without another word, I lace our fingers together, turn on my heel, and tug him with me, laughing, as we head straight for the living room floor like two idiots too in love to care about furniture.

Because that’s the thing about fresh starts—they’re whatever the hell we want them to be.

And we want this. All of it. Together.

EPILOGUE: RYDER

The air smells like salt, sunscreen, and something tropical, and I feel completely free.

Logan doesn’t know exactly where we’re going yet. All he knows is we landed in Mexico this morning, after I dragged him through customs, then stuffed him into a shuttle with tinted windows. He’s been trying to get it out of me since we left the house this morning, but I held my ground. I didn’t even tell him we were coming to Mexico. I packed his bag, his passport, and a few other items for him, so he had no idea.

Now, we’re walking down a winding stone path lined with palm trees, heading toward the private villa that comes into view just as the ocean does. It has whitewashed walls, a pool on the terrace, and a view that looks like it was ripped straight from a honeymoon brochure. As soon as we get there, he stops walking and stares with parted lips. His sunglasses tip down slightly as he turns back to look at me. “Is this where we’re staying?” he asks in disbelief.

I shrug, biting back a grin. “Yup, only the best for the World’s Best Boyfriend.”

“Holy shit, Ryder!”

“You don’t know this, but last year, when things were bad, I promised myself I’d take you to a resort in Mexico when it was all said and done to thank you, and now, here we are.”

“Holy shit,” Logan breathes, tugging off his sunglasses. “This is incredible!” He turns and stares at me for a beat, like he’s not sure if he wants to kiss me or cry, before he pulls me into his chest and buries his face in my neck.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Well, you’ve got me anyway, and I’m not going anywhere.”

We stay there like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other with the ocean in the background and the sun warm on our skin. Eventually, we wander inside, hand in hand, exploring the villa that’ll be ours for the next seven days. There’s champagne on ice. A king-size bed draped in sheer white fabric. A tub big enough for two. And on the table by the window, a note: “Welcome, Mr. Stevens and Mr. Hart. Congratulations on one year together.”

It’s perfect.

Logan snorts. “I can’t believe it’s only been a year. It feels like we’ve lived a dozen lives in that time.”

He’s not wrong; so much has changed in twelve months.

Logan quit his job four months ago—finally. It took him longer than he expected, but he did it after spending most of the last year working remotely and building his freelance business on the side. Once he got to an income point he felt truly comfortable with, he took the leap, and now he’s fully on his own. His work is incredible—just like him. Watching him build his business from the ground up and light up over client projects has made me unbelievably proud of him.

We also adopted a dog last fall, a mutt named Beans, andit’s ironic because as much as Logan hates beans the food, he loves Beans the dog. We take her on long walks and argue about who’s better at training her—me, obviously. At night, she curls up at the foot of the bed while we curl into each other, and I love that she makes our family feel complete.

Logan walks out onto the terrace, tugging his shirt off as he stares at the pool. “Private pool. You went all out, huh?”

“I figured we earned it,” I say, smiling at him.

“You packed my swim trunks, right?”

“Nope, you’re going in naked,” I smirk at him. I did pack them, but he doesn’t need them right now.

“I can get behind that.”