Page 42

Truman

F ive years.

I’ve spent five damn years in this small town where every day hides its own secrets just for us—a place where even the rustle of the wind and ripples on the pond feel like they belong solely to our world.

Blueridge sits tucked away among rugged mountain slopes, home to barely two thousand tough souls.

Here, life moves at a steady, unhurried pace—a quiet pond inviting a summer dip, an ice cream shop that brings simple joy with its sweet creamy treats, and a bakery that never fails to fire up the oven with fresh, gooey chocolate chip cookies.

And believe it or not, I’m still in the law game, working as a legal assistant at our local firm.

I’m sitting on the weathered wooden porch of our cabin, watching the sun climb slowly behind the towering mountains.

The sky bursts into bold shades of pink and gold, each flare reflecting off the pines and scattered clouds.

A cool breeze weaves through the trees, rustling the leaves, and in that moment, I feel at home—grounded and at peace.

The chaos of the outside world seems a distant memory, the violent echoes of a past life have faded away.

Then I hear the creak of the door and the soft, sure steps of her approaching.

Meghan—my wife, my rock—steps onto the porch.

Even with the undeniable changes of pregnancy marked by her beautifully rounded belly, she carries herself with a determined grace.

We fought hard to carve out this life, navigating uncertainty, weathering nightmares, and letting go of trauma.

We made it together, and I’d make the same choice every damn time to be here with her.

She’s radiant, her belly proudly showing the life growing inside, just a week away from meeting our daughter. I can’t tear my eyes away from her—the way she moves, the effortless beauty of her loose ponytail catching the light as she steps forward, a soft, knowing smile on her lips.

“Sam,” she calls out, her voice warm and laced with affection, making our new names—Meghan and Sam—feel as natural as the air around us. “You’re out here all by yourself again.”

I let out a deep, genuine laugh that vibrates with a mixture of contentment and relief.

Meghan rolls her eyes playfully but crosses over to sit beside me on our creaky porch swing.

The wood beneath us groans softly as it sways, laden with our shared history and hopes for tomorrow.

Pulling her close, I wrap my arm around her shoulders as I inhale deeply, savoring the familiar, comforting scent of her hair—a scent that speaks of home and healing.

I can’t get enough of her. Never could.

“How’s the feed store?” I ask, my thumb tracing small circles on the bare skin of her arm.

She shrugs, leaning her head on my shoulder. “Busy, but good. The animals are all fed, the shelves are stocked, and I managed to talk to that cranky farmer about his chickens today. He’s a little grumpy, but I think he likes me.”

I chuckle softly. “You can charm anyone. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

She grins at me, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and I feel the warmth of her love, of everything we’ve built, radiating off her. She’s stronger than she gives herself credit for, but she’s also still that gentle, hopeful woman I met all those years ago.

“I love you,” she says, and her voice is so tender, it catches me off guard every time.

“Love you too,” I reply, my heart bursting with gratitude.

She shifts in my arms, her hand drifting down to rest on her belly, a gentle smile playing on her lips. “You’re really going to be a dad. Can you believe it?”

I shake my head slowly, eyes drifting to the soft curve of her, marveling at the secret life growing inside her. “I never imagined I’d be here,” I confess, voice thick with emotion. “I never imagined we’d be here. But I’m so damn grateful—for you, for her, for everything.”

She takes my hand and presses it against her belly, and I can feel the subtle movement of our daughter. A wide grin spreads across my face. I’m going to be a dad—a real one. And I’ll give our little girl every ounce of my love.

Every bit of who I am.

Every ounce of myself.

“I can’t wait to meet her,” I say quietly, my voice thick with emotion.

Meghan laughs softly, her fingers grazing over my knuckles. “She’s going to be perfect. Just like you.”

I snort, shaking my head in disbelief.

She gives me a look, soft but knowing. “You gave me everything I needed, even when I didn’t deserve it. You gave me a life, a future, and you loved me in a way no one else could.”

I pull her even closer, pressing my lips to the top of her head, breathing her in. “This life we’ve built. This love. It’s all ours.”

In that moment, the world shrinks to a safe, small space. The past—with all its darkness, danger, and fear—no longer holds power over us. We’re free.

Free to build a life here, in this quiet town where no one knows who we were before. Where no one cares about the people we used to be. Where no one cares about the mafia or the bloodshed.

But even with the quiet, I can’t help but miss my family.

My parents. My sister and brother. I don’t regret what I did, but I still feel that ache for them, that longing to be close again.

They were told that I was gone for their safety, that a case I was working had gone sour, but given no further details.

It pained us both at the time. Caused many days and nights of dread, grief, and sleeplessness.

I had never imagined a life where I’d leave them behind, but I had to make a choice. And I’d done it—at the time—so easily. I chose Meghan. And I’d choose her again in every lifetime.

“Sam,” Meghan’s soft voice tugs me back from my reverie, laden with concern. “Are you okay?”

I nod, pulling her tighter into my embrace. “Yeah, just thinking.”

“About your family?”

I pause, then answer, “Yeah. I miss them, Meg. I miss them so much sometimes it feels like I’m suffocating.”

She kisses my cheek softly, her hand resting on my chest. “I know you do. And I’m so sorry for that.”

I shake my head, a small smile tugging at my lips. “I’m okay.” I glance at her belly once more, my hand hovering there, feeling her move. “I’m more than okay.”

“I was thinking,” she says.

“Oh?” I grin at her.

She threads her fingers in my hair, her deep brown eyes set on mine. “How do you feel about the name Kenzie?”

Leaning in, my lips hover just above hers, teasing, torturing, making her wait for it. There is no better way to honor my family than to name our little girl after my sister.

Meghan’s eyes, dark and wide, flicker with anticipation, her lashes fluttering.

“What do you want?” I whisper. Just like all those years before.

Her mouth yawns into a grin. “Your mouth,” she breathes.

I groan. “Where?”

She points to her mouth. I press my lips to hers tenderly before deepening the kiss as I pour all my love and gratitude into it. There has never been anyone else for me. I don’t need anything else in this world. Not now, not ever. All I have ever longed for is right here, held close in my embrace.

And as I pull back, my forehead resting against hers, I whisper, “I think Kenzie is perfect.”

She smiles the kind of smile that lights up everything around her, including me. “Good,” she whispers back.