Page 101 of From the Wreckage

TWO MONTHS LATER

Life looks different now.

Most days start at the garage. Grayson’s garage.

My garage now. But I’ll never call it that.

His name stays above the door. Business is booming—two new lifts, a crew of mechanics Bri swears are saints for putting up with me.

I still get my hands dirty, but I spend as much time running things as fixing them. I think he’d be proud of that.

We live in my cabin, but we keep Grayson’s. Some nights, when the ache gets heavy, Bri wanders over there just to sit on the porch. I always follow. Because if she’s there, I need to be, too.

Inside my place, she’s carved out her corner of the world.

I turned the guest bedroom into her library—a wall of books with a little coffee bar tucked in the corner.

When it’s too cold for her to read outside, she curls up there with a blanket, sunflowers in a vase by the window.

I steal kisses every time I walk by. She pretends to be annoyed. She never is.

It’s not perfect. Grief doesn’t go away. But damn if we haven’t built something good.

Something strong.

Something that feels like forever.

We didn’t want a church. Didn’t want grandeur or show. We wanted real.

So we stand on the dock behind the cabins. The same one where Grayson gave me his blessing. The lake glitters under the late-October sun, the air crisp, the arch above us dripping with the sunflowers Bri insisted on. Of course, pumpkins line the path and create a route from her cabin to the dock.

She waits inside the cabin as our friends gather, the preacher clearing his throat. I can’t stop pacing.

And then the door opens, and my lungs seize.

She steps out, her white dress flowing like smoke, a bouquet of sunflowers trembling in her hands.

My angel. My soon-to-be wife. My forever.

For just a second, as the wind ripples across the lake, I feel Grayson’s presence. Like he’s here, watching her walk toward me. Watching me keep my promise. The weight of it settles on my chest, equal parts grief and gratitude.

And I hear him. She’s not a prize to snatch up fast. She’s a catch you wait for. Gentle. Steady. Worth the patience. Worth the fight.

When she reaches me, she takes my arm, her smile blinding. We walk together down the dock, side by side. No one gives her away. We give ourselves to each other.

The preacher smiles. “You’ve written your own vows?”

Bri nods, her voice trembling but strong.

“Everett, you’ve been my storm and my shelter, my grief and my healing.

You saw me at my most broken, and you didn’t turn away.

You held me, even when I pushed you away.

You’ve been my anchor, my home, my heartbeat.

Today, I vow to fight for us the way you always fought for me.

To love you, through the light and the dark, for as long as I breathe. ”

My chest cracks wide open. I grip her hands, my voice a vow and a promise etched into the air.

“Brielle, my angel… You saved me. You made me believe in second chances. In forever. You hung the stars back in my sky when I thought they were gone for good. Today, I vow to never let you slip away. To fight for you. To guard you. To love you so fiercely, the world itself won’t dare to try to take you from me.

As long as I breathe, you’ll never face this world alone. ”

We slide the rings on each other’s fingers, the metal cold, our promises eternal.

When the preacher pronounces us husband and wife, I don’t wait. I dip her low, kissing her like she’s the air in my lungs, the blood in my veins. Her laughter spills against my mouth, bright and alive.

The crowd cheers, but all I hear is her.

Tonight, at our Halloween-themed wedding reception, we’ll dance as Morticia and Gomez again, her dad’s playlist carrying us into forever. And I’ll make damn sure forever is exactly what we get.

But right now, it’s just us.

And I’ll never let her go.