Page 17

EPILOGUE

Eight Months Later

The library was her favorite corner of the house. Tucked away in the back with tall windows that overlooked the oak-lined yard, it had once been quiet and solemn, filled only with the scent of old paper, polished wood, and the lingering echo of memories. But over time, the space had softened. It had become a haven. A cradle for love and laughter. A room where life could breathe.

There were three photos of Kenneth on the wall—framed like sacred relics—each a moment frozen in time that pulled at her heart. Jamie had arranged them carefully, lovingly. The first showed Kenneth at practice with Zachary high on his broad shoulders, the little boy giggling with his helmet askew, sticky fingers tangled in Kenneth’s hair. The second, a perfectly timed action shot, captured him mid-stride during a game—focused, fierce, unstoppable. The third, her favorite, was pure magic: Kenneth and Jett Acton on either side of the Stanley Cup, eyes shimmering with tears, hands gripping the silver trophy like it was salvation.

Barrett had shrieked in the background and thrown a backflip on skates, nearly crashing in all his exuberance. The moment had been chaotic, beautiful, and unforgettable. The media had swarmed the ice, devouring the story, demanding interviews with Savage and Coach Starnes while the men who fought for every inch of glory stood there, breathless and undone.

Jamie remembered Kenneth teasing her that the library wasn’t the place for baby things—that pastel blankets and scattered building blocks didn’t belong among shelves of hardcovers and framed sports history.

But she disagreed.

It fit.

It was theirs now. This room, this house, this life—it all belonged to their story. The pages were still being written, and love was etched into every line.

A patter of hurried steps echoed down the hallway, socked feet slipping wildly on the hardwood. Zachary, still in his preschool backpack, his cheeks flushed pink with anticipation, barreled toward her, all kinetic joy and barely contained energy.

“Is it time? Is it now?” he shouted, breathless and wide-eyed.

Jamie laughed, though the sound was soft, airy—more breath than voice. Her body still ached from giving birth just three days ago, every muscle tender, every step careful. But her heart? Her heart was brimming. Swollen with a love so immense it felt like her chest couldn’t contain it.

She adjusted the delicate bundle in her arms, their newborn daughter nestled against her like a second heartbeat. Her skin was impossibly soft, her lashes long against flushed cheeks, and a tiny pink cap covered the tufts of dark hair that curled at the edges. The baby sighed, deep in the velvet of sleep, as Jamie slowly rose from the rocking chair, every movement deliberate.

Then—the garage door rumbled shut.

Her breath caught.

She didn’t even have to look. She felt him before she saw him. That electric hum that filled the air whenever Kenneth was near.

The door opened with a creak, and Kenneth stepped inside, breathless and grinning. One arm cradled a squirming blur of golden fluff, and the other fumbled for a leash in his pocket. His jacket was half-zipped, his hair slightly windblown, and his eyes—the warm brown that had once changed the entire course of her life—were shining.

“Okay, okay! He’s here!” Kenneth announced, practically laughing at Zachary’s excitement. “But you’ve got to be gentle, buddy. He’s just a baby like your sister.”

Zachary let out a squeal so high-pitched Jamie was sure the windows rattled. He bounced in place, with fists clenched at his sides, and his whole body trembling with joy. “You got me a puppy?”

Jamie lowered herself with effort, crouching slowly beside her son. Her knees protested, but her heart overflowed. She carefully slipped off his backpack and smoothed his hair back from his flushed forehead, cupping his cheek with a hand that trembled with the weight of the moment.

“We thought you needed a best friend,” she murmured, her voice thick with tears she didn’t bother to blink away. “Someone to grow up with. Mommy’s can’t give birth to puppies—but they can help talk Daddy into getting one.”

Kenneth lowered the puppy to the floor, the golden doodle wobbling on unsteady legs, tail wagging in wide, ridiculous swoops. His ears flopped as he sniffed the air, tongue hanging from the side of his mouth, and then he saw Zachary.

The little dog bounded forward, clumsy and all-paws, letting out a sharp yip of excitement. He skidded as he tried to stop, then flopped forward onto Zachary’s lap like he’d found home.

Jamie’s heart cracked open. It was too much. The softness of it all. The years it had taken to get here. The aching journey between the pain she’d once known and the joy now blooming around her in messy, beautiful chaos.

“I’m gonna name him Stanley! Like the team’s trophy!” Zachary declared, clutching the puppy with uncontainable joy, almost in tears.

Kenneth chuckled, voice rich and warm. “Stanley? Are you sure, buddy? I was thinking Blondie, or maybe Curly?”

“No – he’s definitely a Stanley,” Zachary insisted with absolute confidence, already darting toward the back door with the puppy at his heels. “C’mon, Stanley. Let’s go play!”

Jamie stood slowly and moved to Kenneth’s side, the baby still sleeping against her chest. She leaned into him, her cheek against his shoulder, her arm slipping around his waist, needing the contact like she needed air.

Together, they watched their son—his laughter echoing, the puppy tumbling across the floor like a living ray of sunshine.

“I can’t believe this is our life,” she whispered, the words catching on the lump in her throat.

Kenneth kissed the top of her head. Soft. Sure. “Best deal ever, remember? I’ve been dreaming of this since the moment you said ‘I do’ and became mine.”

Amelia stirred in her arms, a delicate cry rising from the folds of her blanket. Jamie shifted, holding her closer, soothing her with quiet murmurs. The baby blinked up at them, bleary and new, her little face a perfect mix of Kenneth’s nose and Jamie’s stubborn chin.

It hit her then. The truth of it. The weight of joy. The staggering beauty of this life they’d built—stitched together by sacrifice, love, and second chances.

The Cup.

The kids.

The puppy, who was now chasing his own tail in wild zigzags too excited to make it outside.

And Kenneth, beside her, every dream she’d never dared speak aloud.

This wasn’t the life she’d once imagined in the quiet ache of that afternoon when everything fell apart. No, she had yearned for something to go right in her life – and oh, how the Big Guy Upstairs listened. He took every disaster in her world and flipped it over, delivering so much more than anything she could have ever imagined or wished for.

Kenneth, Zachary, Amelia - all of it wasn’t just a miracle.

It was better .

This was the life that had bloomed from healing, from trust, from forgiveness and laughter and all the wild, messy, dazzling colors of love.

It was hers.

And it was home.

Forever.