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epilogue

MOLLIE

ONE YEAR LATER

Of course my mom’s a natural at axe throwing. She picks up everything quickly and must have that “mind-body connection” Hunter is always talking about. Sometimes, when the sex is really good, I think I’ve achieved it. I’m still struggling with it on any activity with less incentive.

It’s my birthday again and a group has gathered at the axe throwing venue. Hunter reserved the entire space for us: Nora and her new boyfriend, Sophie and Chad, Scott, Tyler and Zoe, and my mom. Tom couldn’t make it and neither could Mr. Smith and Dorothy, who we invited even knowing they’d be in their pajamas by 8pm.

Hunter hadn’t wanted me to invite Nora and Sophie. “They’re not real friends,” he’d said—his voice gentle because his words weren’t. “When have they ever been supportive? They even abandoned you when you needed help moving.”

I couldn’t imagine my two oldest friends not bearing witness to how much I’d changed my life. I’d invited them while telling Hunter they might not show up. But they both came. And that was something.

After my mom shows off her ability to pick up any activity within minutes, Hunter and Scott wow everyone by throwing two axes at once. I’m pretty sure Nora’s new boyfriend is jealous. He definitely isn’t going to last for long with that attitude. Nora already looks annoyed.

“Hunter’s in an axe throwing league,” Nora says dismissively. She’s clearly trying to inspire the dude to chill. “Of course he’s good.”

“Mollie and I throw every week,” Hunter agrees good-naturedly. “She’s in the league, too.”

“ You are?” Nora and Sophie both turn on me, shocked.

“I am,” I say proudly. Hunter had convinced me, building the case that I was good enough over several months of lessons. I’m not the most talented person in our league, but I’m not the worst every week, either. And when Hunter and I throw as a team, we do pretty well.

“Are you going to show us?”

“Show us, show us,” Scott, who has been drinking, starts a short chant.

Looking around, I see no sympathy. My mom, who has been in town almost once a month since I moved here—protesting she wants to see her daughter but really exploring the idea of retirement—waits to see me demonstrate skill travels through genetics. Hunter, smiling with quiet confidence in my abilities, waits to see me shut everyone up. Tyler and Zoe, who have heard me bemoan this activity plenty of times, wait to see the hours I’ve spent on it—and really spent on hanging out with Hunter—pay off.

“I’ll show you,” I agree. “First, I want to make a toast. To myself.”

Everyone laughs. They gamely pick up their plastic cups and hold them up.

“I haven’t always been good at listening to my own voice. And this past year has been about learning how to do that. I’ve been lucky enough to be surrounded by people who let me get quiet and hear myself.” I wave my hand at the group around me. Even Nora and Sophie came around to my decision to move. They both think my mom is the least reckless person in the world, so when she decided to buy here, that pretty much won them over.

But Hunter. He’s all-in, never once wavering when I need him to back me up on everything from replacing the light switch covers in the condo to trying outdoor climbing—which was terrifying. That’s one thing I never need to try again.

Who knows where we’ll be in our relationship in another year. I can’t ask Hunter to move into my mom’s condo and he can’t ask me to move into Tom’s house. We’re enjoying our time together and where we are now, though. Hunter is studying for his MBA and slowly taking over business operations, while Tom focuses on marketing. I am easing into a true friendship with Zoe, who has finally accepted me as a local. We are having a lot of sex—up against a wall, hanging over the side of the bed, from behind, from the front. We session what doesn’t work and we keep doing what does. We talk about the future sometimes, though without urgency. Like we’re following a path that we know leads somewhere nice—somewhere with an epic view—but we’re not in a hurry to get there. That’s enough.

Tipping my cup at Hunter so he knows I’m thinking of his support in particular, I take a drink. Everyone else says “cheers” and drinks their own.

I pick up my axe. Hunter showed me how to wrap it in tape to fit my own grip. Now it’s comfortable for me to hold it, like an extension of my arm. I laughed when Hunter first used that phrase, and yet he was right. A lot of things have become more comfortable for me over the last year. I think I’m generally a more comfortable person with myself now.

Trying things is still my “thing,” and I don’t jump from thing to thing so quickly anymore. I know it’s going to take me time to master everything I try, so I embrace the commitment and focus on one thing at a time for a semester or a season or however long it takes.

Sharing a brief grin with Hunter, I decide I’m going to show everybody that I don’t just try hard, sometimes—with the right ingredients, and support around me—I succeed.

Yes , says my mind and my body and my heart pounding with excitement that I get to have a birthday party like this, surrounded by people I love in a place I chose. Yes .

Lifting the axe over my head with one arm, I aim my elbow at the target and follow it with my eyes. Then, with perfect follow-through, I throw the axe down the center of the lane, flying end over end until it hits the target. Bullseye.