Page 114 of Wrecked on the Mountain

"And sweetheart…" Jamie dangles the keychain between us. "That key? It's to my cabin. Toourhome."

I stare at the tiny axe, then at his smug face. "Jamie Striker, I thought you were about to—"

"Propose?" He leans closer, voice dropping to that gravelly whisper that makes my knees weak. "Maybe one day, baby. Let's see how you handle living with me for three months first."

I lean up on my toes and kiss him. "It will be perfect."

He kisses me back. "I know it will."

"I love you, Jamie Striker."

"I love you too, Dr. Brooke Shields."

We lean in to seal our love with a kiss, but suddenly champagne explodes over our heads in golden streams. Knox whoops while Chase and Beau cheer, soaking us completely. Martha and Piper laugh and claps their hands together, both beaming like proud mothers.

"Welcome to the family, Doc!"

Jamie pulls me closer, both of us dripping and laughing. "Think you can handle this crew forever?"

"Forever sounds perfect."

Epilogue

Jamie

Six Months Later

I'm the luckiest man alive.

Six months of waking up to auburn hair spilled across my pillow, of her warm body curved against mine. Six months of her mountain uniform tangled with my rescue gear in the hamper, her medical journals bookmarking pages in my survival manuals. Six months of her terrible singing in the shower and her even worse attempts at making coffee.

Six months of absolute fucking perfection.

I study Brooke's sleeping face in the pre-dawn darkness, memorizing the way her freckles dust across her nose, how her pink lips part when she dreams.

The sunrise hasn't touched our bedroom windows yet, but I can feel it coming. That perfect golden hour when the mountain reveals all its secrets.

And today…

Today's the day.

My heart hammers against my ribs as I slip from bed, careful not to wake her. She shifts, one perfect breast visible above the sheet, and I have to force myself to focus and walk away.Later. After I make her mine forever, I'll worship every inch of that body.

The ring burns in my jacket pocket where I've hidden it for two weeks, waiting for the perfect morning.

Not Rebecca's ring. Fuck that.

This one's different. This one's for Brooke. The center stone in huge, and I know she'll love it. Simple, elegant, strong.

Just like her.

The champagne's been chilling in my workshop fridge since I picked it up yesterday. Chloe's pastries are packed in insulated containers. Blankets already loaded in the truck.

I've been planning this morning for weeks, every detail mapped out like a rescue operation.

Because that's what this is, isn't it? She rescued me. Pulled me out of seven years of isolation and showed me what love actually feels like.

The refrigerator hums quietly as I gather supplies, and I pause at the map still pinned there… the one I drew her that first week.