Page 31 of Rescued In The Storm

"Remind me why I asked you to be my best man," I grumble.

"Because Declan would've lost the rings, and Rowan would have forgotten to speak during his toast." He claps a hand on my shoulder, his expression softening. "You look good, Connor. Sarah won't know what hit her."

A knock on the door interrupts whatever retort I might have managed. Declan pokes his head in, already dressed in his own suit, though his is paired with the chef's apron he refused to take off until the last possible moment.

"It's time," he announces. "Mom says if you're late to your own wedding, she's giving your cabin to Jameson and Bear."

"That dog would destroy the place in a week," I say, but I'm already moving toward the door, the familiar banter of my brothers steadying my nerves more than they could ever know.

Outside, spring has transformed the lodge grounds. Mountain laurel blooms in bursts of pink and white along the paths, their sweet scent carried on the gentle breeze. The ceremony site sits on the west lawn, overlooking the valley where, exactly ten months ago, I rescued Sarah from a storm that changed both our lives.

Chairs arranged in neat rows are already filled with guests—townspeople, lodge staff, and the friends who've become our extended family over the years. At the front, a simple arch woven with wildflowers and mountain laurel marks the spot where I'll wait for Sarah. Rowan and Max outdid themselves with the decorations, incorporating every bloom that holds significance for us—lavender for the bouquets he helped me gather, daisies because they remind Sarah of summer mornings, and mountain laurel to honor the place that brought us together.

I take my position beneath the arch, Liam at my side. From here, I can see the faces of everyone who matters. My mother in the front row, already dabbing at her eyes though the ceremony hasn't even started. Declan with Jules and her daughter Mia, the little girl fidgeting in her flower girl dress. Rowan and Daisy, her head resting on his shoulder as she whispers something that makes him smile. Nolan with his arm around Kathryn, who grins and gives me a thumbs up.

And there, in the third row, Lauren Abbott sits beside Mom, helping my mother organize the program in her lap. Her presence still creates a subtle tension. I notice how Liam carefully avoids looking in her direction, though she steals glances at him when she thinks no one is watching. Some stories, it seems, are still being written.

Jameson arrives last, sliding into his seat with Bear at his feet, the golden retriever surprisingly well-behaved in his bowtie collar. My little brother winks at me, then leans down to whisper something to his dog who sits attentively, as if he understands the importance of the occasion.

The music begins. Not the traditional wedding march, but a string quartet playing a melody that Sarah chose, something soft and achingly beautiful that makes my chest tighten with anticipation.

And then she appears at the end of the aisle, and the world around me fades to background noise.

Sarah Miller—soon to be Sarah Callahan—is radiant in a simple white dress that flows around her like water. Her hair is partially up, with loose curls framing her face and small mountain laurel blooms woven through the strands. But it's her smile that steals my breath. It’s wide and unguarded, her eyes finding mine immediately as if no one else exists.

Maya walks beside her, serving as her maid of honor, but I barely register her presence. All I can see is Sarah, moving toward me with steady steps, each one bringing her closer to the future we've chosen together.

When she reaches me, I can't help but reach for her hand, needing the contact to ground myself in this moment that feels almost dreamlike.

"Hi," she whispers, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

"Hi," I manage, overwhelmed by how beautiful she is, by how impossibly lucky I am.

The ceremony passes in a blur of words and promises. I repeat my vows without hesitation, the words coming easily now that I've learned to stop overthinking and simply feel. When I slide the ring onto her finger, my hands are steady despite the emotion tightening my throat.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," the officiant says, and before he can tell me to kiss the bride, I'm already drawing Sarah close, her laughter against my lips the sweetest sound I've ever heard.

Cheers erupt around us. I'm vaguely aware of Liam clapping me on the back, of my mother crying openly now, of Bear barking his approval from his spot beside Jameson. But all that matters is Sarah in my arms, her hands framing my face as she whispers, "We did it, mountain man."

The reception unfolds on the lodge's garden terrace, transformed by twinkling lights and more of Rowan's floral arrangements. Declan outdid himself with the menu, incorporating Sarah's recipes into his own for a feast that has guests returning for seconds and thirds. The cake—a masterpiece of Sarah's design that she insisted on baking herself despite my protests—sits on display, waiting for the traditional cutting.

I find myself at the edge of the dance floor, watching as Sarah twirls with Mia, both of them laughing as Declan and Jules look on. The sight of Sarah with a child makes my heart swell with possibilities—a future I never allowed myself to imagine before her.

"She's good with kids," Liam says, appearing at my side with two glasses of champagne. He hands me one, following my gaze. "Got any plans in that department?"

"One life-changing event at a time," I reply, though the thought has crossed my mind more than once lately. "How about you? Any regrets about the path not taken?"

His eyes involuntarily drift to where Lauren sits at a table with my mother, their heads bent together in conversation. "Some roads are better left untraveled."

"But?" I prompt, sensing there's more he's not saying.

He sighs, taking a long sip of champagne. "But sometimes I wonder if we gave up too easily. If the timing was just wrong."

"It's never too late to find out," I say, thinking of how close I came to losing Sarah through my own fear and hesitation.

"Says the man who took ten years to notice the woman right in front of him." Liam's tone is light, but there's something wistful in his expression. "Some of us aren't as lucky to get second chances."

Before I can respond, Rowan approaches, gesturing toward the dance floor. "Hate to interrupt, but your wife is looking for you." He emphasizes the word 'wife' with a smile. "Something about not letting her dance alone at her own wedding."

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