Page 88 of Broken Roads
Epilogue
Bradley
The sunset paints the mountains in shades of gold and crimson as I stand on our porch, watching Hailey lean against the railing. Six months after Dad's collapse, and I still hold my breath sometimes. Still catch myself in moments of disbelief, not just that Dad pulled through, but that this life is actually mine. This house. This view. This woman who somehow crashed through every wall I'd built and made herself at home in places I thought were locked for good.
I step forward and slide my arms around her waist from behind.
"Penny for your thoughts, sunshine," I murmur against her ear.
She leans back into me, her body fitting against mine like she was designed for it. "Just thinking about how far we've come," she says, her hands coming to rest on mine where they're clasped around her middle.
"Yeah," I breathe, placing a soft kiss on the side of her neck.
We’ve built a home, Hailey and I. The modest two-story house with large windows that frame the Montana landscape like living art. The wraparound porch I insisted on building myself, spending weekends hammering and measuring while Sebastian—of all people—held boards in place and made unhelpful comments about my technique.
Hailey tilts her head, giving me better access to the sensitive spot below her ear.
A blur of black and white fur tears across the yard below us, chasing nothing but his own excitement. Bandit races in wide circles, occasionally stopping to bark at a butterfly or dig frantically for a few seconds before resuming his endless patrol of what he clearly considers his personal kingdom.
"That dog has more energy than all the ranch hands combined," I chuckle, watching him leap over a fallen branch with unnecessary enthusiasm.
"He's just happy," Hailey says, the smile evident in her voice.
"Seems to be a theme around here lately," I say, tightening my arms around her. "Dad actually smiled yesterday when I told him the March bookings were full. Not that grimace thing he does when he's trying to look pleased but actually thinks the world's going to hell. A real smile."
Hailey turns in my arms and tips her face up to mine. The fading sunlight catches in her eyes, turning them to amber. "Speaking of your father, how was his check-up?"
"Clean bill of health," I tell her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Sebastian says his heart rhythm is stable, blood pressure's good. Said if he keeps taking his meds and doesn't try to break any rodeo records, he should be around to terrorize us all for years to come."
"That's wonderful." Her smile deepens, creasing the corners of her eyes in a way that still makes my heart stutter. "And how are things between you and Sebastian?"
I consider the question, thinking back to the phone call I had with my brother yesterday. Six months ago, I couldn't have imagined having a civil conversation with him, let alone the easy back-and-forth we'd managed to develop. "Better," I admit. "Still weird sometimes, but... better. He's coming out next weekend, actually. Says he needs some fresh air and real food whatever that means."
"It means he misses you," Hailey says, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my chest. "And the ranch. Maybe even Ruthie's cooking."
"Maybe," I concede. The truth is more complicated—a careful rebuilding of trust, tentative steps toward something that might eventually resemble the brotherhood we lost. But it's progress, and that's more than I ever expected.
The sun has nearly disappeared now, the last crimson streaks fading from the sky as stars begin to appear. I wrap my arm around Hailey's shoulders, pulling her close as we watch darkness settle over our land.
"Six months ago, I thought I was going to lose my father," I say quietly. "I thought my brother and I would never speak again. I thought a lot of things that turned out to be wrong."
Hailey rests her head against my shoulder. "Life has a way of surprising you."
"You surprised me," I murmur into her hair. "From that first day when you showed up with your city clothes and your big ideas and that look on your face that said you weren't taking any of my shit."
"You were pretty insufferable," she reminds me, but I can hear the smile in her voice.
"I was terrified," I admit. "Not just of change, but of you. Of what you made me feel from the moment I saw you."
She pulls back to look at me, her expression serious now. "And what was that?"
"Hope," I tell her, the word scraping my throat with its honesty. "You walked into my life, and suddenly I could see possibilities I'd given up on years ago. A future that wasn't just about survival."
Her eyes shine in the fading light, and I know she understands exactly what I mean. Because that's what we do now—understand each other in ways I never thought possible.
"I never imagined being this happy," I confess, the words feeling both inadequate and overwhelmingly true. "Never thought I deserved it, after Claire, after how I shut down. But you…" My voice catches, and I have to clear my throat before continuing. "You make me believe I do."
"Bradley Walker," she says, her voice thick with emotion. "Don't you know by now? You deserve every bit of happiness this world has to offer. And I plan to spend however long you'll have me making sure you never forget that."
