Epilogue

Abby

When Hunter asked where we should live, I blurted out ‘Tennessee’ without a second thought. And six months later, I still haven’t had any second thoughts.

Hunter did make me promise that we’d come back to Portland one day to hike and explore all its beautiful forests. We barely stepped outside of the cabin during our three days there together. At the end of it, we went back to my apartment in the city, packed up all of my belongings, and met my family for one last dinner before driving across the country and settling down in Tennessee.

We had to move out of the little cabin in the woods where it all started. It wasn’t built for two and technically the Forest Service owns it, so I couldn’t live there long-term. That sort of proximity is charming for a few days, but stifling after that. Even though I still want to spend all my time wrapped up in Hunter, we each need our own space as well.

Our new house is a charming cottage on the edge of the woods. It’s got two bedrooms and a wide front porch, raised up a few steps so it’s unlikely to flood. Our backyard is the forest. A hiking trail picks up just outside our back door.

On the weekends, we explore the forest and all the trails together. We’re also working on bits and pieces of the Appalachian Trail. In fact, that’s where we are now – finally hiking all the way to Boxwood Falls, the waterfall I’d hoped to visit at the end of my solo hike, but obviously never did.

I’m buzzing with excitement as the sound of rushing water gets closer and closer. My calves burn from our upward journey and Hunter climbs the narrow path behind me.

“It sounds like we’re getting close,” I say, glancing back at Hunter.

“Yep.”

He’s even quieter than usual today.

After another bend in the trail, it opens up to reveal the waterfall, which plummets 80 feet down a mossy cliff into a sparkling pool. It is stunning, and somehow – I have no idea how – we have the whole place to ourselves.

I waste no time shedding my tank top and shorts and wading into the water. It’s cool and refreshing on my skin after the long hike.

Hunter finds a place to set down his pack on a smooth rock. He takes his time unlacing his shoes and setting them on the rock as well. He peels his shirt off next. Watching him undress will never get old. It would be like saying I’m tired of eating, or vacation, or the sun.

He’s moving slowly. He folds his shirt carefully (still not the way I taught him in the cabin – that’s one thing we’ll never agree on) and places it in the backpack.

The whole thing is a painful display of hesitancy, unlike anything I’ve ever seen from Hunter before. Growing impatient, I splash some water his way and holler, “Come on! Drop those pants and get in here!”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and glances up at me.

“I – uh – I can’t,” he says.

He can’t what? He can’t swim? I mean, it’s true I’ve never actually seen him swim before, but there is absolutely no way the man standing before me is afraid to swim. The water isn’t even that deep.

“Okaaay,” I say skeptically. “Are you being shy?” I tease with another splash of water.

“No. It’s just – will you just come here?”

I shoot him a questioning glance. His posture is unfamiliar. His eyes won’t meet mine. Suddenly feeling a pang of concern for his well-being, I step out of the water and make my way over to him. The cool water is no longer refreshing as the mountain breeze presses it into my skin. My light gray panties are undoubtedly see-through and my sports bra feels like it will never be pried off.

“What’s going on, Hunter?” I ask, hopping lightly from foot to foot in a puddle of my own creation. My arms are crossed over my chest with my palms trying to smooth away the goose bumps underneath.

“I just need to talk to you for a minute,” he says in a tight voice.

“Now?”

“Well, I didn’t expect you to rip off all your clothes and run straight into the water as soon as we got here.”

Fair point, I guess, but what could we possibly need to talk about right this second?

When Hunter pulls his hand out of his pocket, his fingers are wrapped around a small, black box. I am still processing that information as he drops to one knee on the smooth rock in front of me. My brain can’t seem to keep up with the scene playing out before me. I start to wonder if I’m reacting appropriately…or at all.

“Abby,” Hunter says softly as he flips the box open to reveal an antique opal ring. It’s the same one I pointed out in a shop on one of our weekend drives to one hike or another. “Will you – “

“Yes!” I say, my brain finally catching up and then ultimately jumping the gun.