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Epilogue

Logan

Two Months Later

I wake with the first hint of dawn painting the sky outside our cabin window. Emma's still asleep, curled against my chest.

The old wooden beams of this traditional Finnish mokki creak gently as wind whispers across the frozen lake outside. I hold Emma closer, drinking in the scent of her hair and the way her body fits perfectly against mine.

A week in Finland, and I still can't believe we're here.

That, after all those years of hearing about it from my mother, of dreaming about visiting after her death… I made it. We made it.

My mother's village looks exactly like the pictures she showed me as a kid. Small stone cottages with red roofs, smoke curling from chimneys, the Baltic Sea frozen at the edges where it meets the shore.

I've spent years imagining this place, but seeing it through Emma's eyes has made it more real than any memory.

Emma stirs against me, mumbling something into my chest before she lifts her head. Her hair is wild, framing her face in a way that makes my heart stutter. The morning light catches her engagement ring, sending tiny rainbows dancing across the cabin walls.

"Morning, gorgeous," I murmur, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Mmm." She stretches, cat-like and perfect. "What time is it?"

"Still early. Go back to sleep."

She shakes her head, curling her fingers against my chest. "No way. Not wasting a single Finnish minute."

I chuckle, stroking her hair.

Every day here has been like this. Her soaking up every experience, sketching in that leather-bound journal she brings everywhere, asking locals a thousand questions about my mother's hometown.

"Fine. I'll make breakfast."

Her eyes widen in horror. "You? In a kitchen? Should I call the fire department now or wait for actual flames?"

I roll my eyes, already sliding from beneath the heavy down comforter. "Keep it up, Coffee Witch, and you're getting cold pulla."

"As if you'd ever serve cold food." She smirks, pulling the blanket to her chin, watching me cross the room. "Your Mama Kane would haunt you forever."

She's right, of course.

I pull the cardamom-scented pulla bread from the oven and set the coffee brewing. The Finnish make it strong enough to wake the dead, just like Mom used to make.

Soon, Emma appears in the kitchen doorway wearing my flannel shirt and nothing else, those long legs making my mouth go dry.

" Haista sin? ," I say, testing her. We've been working on her Finnish all week.

She narrows her eyes. "You just told me to smell you, not smell this. Your verb conjugation is terrible."

I laugh, surprised. "Who's been teaching you behind my back?"

"The old lady at the bakery," Emma smiles, sneaking a piece of warm bread. "She says your Finnish is too formal. She's been giving me the good stuff while you chop wood with her husband."

I pull her against me, wrapping my arms around her waist. "The good stuff, huh?"

"Mmhmm." She rises on tiptoes, brushing her lips against mine. "And she says I'm too good for you."

"Smart woman," I agree, kissing her properly.

After breakfast, Emma brings out her travel journal, the pages covered in sketches of the village, the frozen harbor, the cottage where my mother was born.

Each drawing captures something I missed when we visited, that's why I love looking back on it every night. Emma sees things I don't. Like the way light plays on old stone, how smoke curls against gray sky, the faces of villagers who remember the Kane family name.

"This one's my favorite," she says, showing me a drawing of an old fisherman mending nets. "He told me stories about your grandfather's boat."

My throat tightens. "Mom used to talk about that boat. Said it was the fastest in the harbor."

Emma's hand covers mine. "Everyone remembers."

Her drawings are bringing my mother's stories to life, stitching together pieces of myself I thought were lost forever.

I'm seeing this village through my mother's eyes and Emma's heart, and suddenly I'm not the enforcer anymore, not the retired hockey player.

I'm just Anja Kane's son, finding his way home.

"C'mon," I say, standing abruptly. "There's something else I want to show you."

I take her hand, leading her out of the cabin and through the village's winding paths. Snow crunches beneath our boots as we follow a narrow trail that cuts through dense pines.

Emma gasps when the trees part, revealing the frozen lake stretching out before us like polished glass. The sun catches on ice crystals, turning the surface into a field of diamonds, and at the lake's edge sits a small wooden building, smoke curling from its chimney into the crystal-clear sky.

"A sauna? You've been holding out on me!" Emma's eyes light up as we approach the small wooden building at the edge of the frozen lake.

"Not just any sauna." I unlock the weathered door. "This one's been here for over a hundred years. My grandfather built it."

Inside, the small space smells of woodsmoke. Stone steps lead up to wooden benches, and an ancient stove waits to be lit in the corner. I start the fire while Emma explores, running her fingers along the smooth wooden walls.

"It's beautiful," she breathes.

"The real Finnish experience," I explain, adding water to the heated stones, watching steam rise. "We get hot as hell in here, then—"

"Then what?" Emma cocks an eyebrow, sensing my playful tone.

I grin. "Then we jump in the lake."

"The frozen lake?" Her eyes widen. "You're insane."

"Trust me, Coffee Witch."

An hour later, we're both stripped down to nothing, sweat glistening on our skin as the sauna's heat wraps around us. Emma's hair is piled on top of her head, tendrils clinging to her flushed neck.

She looks like a goddess, all soft curves and pink skin.

"This is amazing," she murmurs, leaning back against the bench. "I feel like I'm melting."

I sit beside her, our bodies touching from shoulder to hip. "The trick is to stay until you can't take it anymore. Then the lake feels... incredible."

"Yeah. Still not convinced about that part," she laughs, but the sound catches in her throat as I trace a bead of sweat down her collarbone.

"You will be."

The sauna's heat makes everything slow and dreamlike.

I watch another drop slide between her breasts, and can't resist leaning down to taste it, my tongue tracing the salt from her skin.

She gasps, fingers threading through my hair.

"Logan..."

"Mmm?" I move lower, pressing my lips to her nipple, sucking it into my mouth and swirling my tongue around the hard peak.

"I thought..." She swallows hard as my hand slides up her thigh. "I thought Finns were supposed to be reserved in saunas."

I look up, meeting her eyes through the steam. "Good thing I'm only half Finnish."

Her laugh turns into a moan as my fingers find her core, already slick with more than just sweat. The sauna makes every touch more intense, every sensation heightened.

She opens her legs and I rub her clit slowly, watching her head fall back, lips parted.

"Fuck," she whispers, hips rising to meet my touch.

"Not yet," I murmur, withdrawing my hand just as the pressure coiling inside her makes her moans grow louder. "Lake first."

Before she can protest, I pull her to her feet, guiding her outside. The frigid air hits like a slap, our overheated skin prickling instantly.

Emma gasps, crossing her arms over her bare chest.

" LOGAN! " She shrieks so loudly it echoes against the forest. "You've lost your mind!"

"Maybe." I laugh, already walking to the ice hole I've cut in the lake. "But you'll never feel more alive."

I drop into the water first, the cold so intense it steals my breath. When I surface, Emma's staring at me like I've grown a second head, but there's curiosity in her eyes.

"Your turn, oh brave one."

"If I freeze to death, you're explaining it to Grandpa Walt," she warns, inching closer to the edge.

She dips one toe in, shrieking so loud I'm sure they can hear her back in Iron Ridge. Then, to my eternal pride, my perfect, stubborn woman takes a deep breath and jumps.

Her scream when she surfaces could shatter glass, but it dissolves into laughter as I pull her against me, both of us tingling with the blood rushing back to our extremities.

"OH MY GOD!" she shouts, clinging to me. "YOU'RE INSANE! IT'S FUCKING FREEZING!"

"But it feels good, doesn't it?" I grin, watching realization dawn on her face as the initial shock fades into euphoria.

"I... yes. Yes it does!" She laughs again, the sound echoing across the frozen lake. "I've never felt so... everything!"

We climb out quickly, racing back to the sauna on numb feet, laughing like children playing in the mountains. Inside, the heat welcomes us back, even more delicious after the icy plunge.

We stay in the sauna until we defrost, and then, wrapped in thick robes, we practically stumble back to the cabin, our bodies humming with energy, skin flushed and tingling.

The moment the door closes behind us, Emma's on me, her mouth hungry against mine.

"That," she gasps between kisses, "was incredible."

"Told you." I lift her easily, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her to the bedroom. "Finnish wisdom."

Our robes hit the floor, and I lay her on the bed, taking a moment to drink in the sight of her. Hair still damp, eyes dark with desire. The firelight plays across her skin, turning it golden.

" Minun kaunis naiseni ," I whisper, the Finnish falling from my lips like my mother taught me. My beautiful woman.

"Don't tell me," Emma reaches for me, pulling me down to her. " Show me what that means."

With my hands, my mouth, my body… I do exactly that.

I worship every inch of her until she's trembling beneath me, whispering my name against my neck.

When I finally push inside her, we both gasp at the intensity of the release. The heat of the sauna, the shock of the lake, the warmth of the fire… this entire fucking trip.

Everything has heightened our senses, making each touch between us damn near electric.

"Logan," she breathes, her nails digging into my shoulders as I roll my hips, letting my cock fill her completely. "Don't stop."

As if I could.

I set a rhythm that has her moaning, her legs locked around my waist, drawing me deeper with each thrust. I know her body now, maybe better than I know my own. I know exactly how to angle my hips to make her gasp, how to time my strokes to build her pleasure slowly.

"I love you," I murmur against her neck, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips. " Rakastan sinua . I love you."

She comes apart beneath me, her body arching, walls clenching around me as she cries out. The sight of her pleasure pushes me over the edge, and I follow, burying my face in her neck as my cock pulses deep inside her addictive heat.

Afterward, we lie tangled together, her head on my chest, my fingers tracing patterns on her back. The fire crackles in the hearth, engulfing us in warmth.

"Thank you," I say quietly.

She looks up. "For what?"

"For this. For coming here with me. For..." I swallow hard. "For helping me find this part of myself again."

Her eyes soften. "You know what this place needs?"

"What?"

"A really good coffee shop." She grins, propping herself up on my chest. "I've been working on a new blend. 'Finnish Line'—dark roast, cardamom, hint of cloudberry."

" Cloudberry ?" I laugh, pulling her closer. "Of course you have. Only you could create a coffee with cloudberries. "

She leans down and kisses me, looking deeply into my eyes.

"We've got three more days," I remind her. "Then back to reality."

"Iron Ridge misses you," she says after a moment. "You know once we're back it'll be crazy again. Chapter and Grind. And The Nest."

Both of her cafés are thriving.

The arena space, now officially named "The Nest & Grind", has become the hotspot for hockey fans and players alike. Between taking some time out to work out what I want to do, and helping Emma run her coffee empire, retirement suits me better than I ever imagined.

That evening, we stand at the edge of the frozen lake, bundled against the cold. Emma leans back against my chest, my arms wrapped around her waist as we stare up at the darkening sky.

"There," I point north. "That's where they'll appear."

"The Northern Lights," she whispers reverently. "Your mom used to watch them?"

I nod, resting my chin on her head. "Every winter. Said they were messages from loved ones who'd passed on."

Emma's hand covers mine where it rests on her stomach. "Do you think she'd be happy? With how things turned out?"

"Yeah," I say softly. "I think she'd love you almost as much as I do."

"Almost?"

"No one loves you like I do, Emma Carter. Soon-to-be Emma Kane… No one."

She turns in my arms, rising up to kiss me softly. "One month till the wedding."

"Not soon enough."

The sky begins to shift above us, ribbons of green and purple dancing across the stars. Emma gasps, turning back to watch as the Northern Lights begin their silent ballet.

"It's magical," she breathes.

I hold her tighter, watching the lights reflect in her eyes, thinking of my mother, of Finland, of the strange, perfect path that led me to this woman and this moment.

"Yeah," I agree. "It is."

We stand there under the dancing sky, Emma pointing out patterns as they shift and change. Her excitement is contagious, her joy perfect.

In her, I've found everything I never knew I needed.

And as the lights glow stronger above us, I silently thank my mother for leading me home—not just to Finland, but to Emma.

To the love that finally made me whole.