Page 29 of The Miner's Miracle
“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life fighting Shep for your attention.” I say as we part, my voice low enough for her ears alone. The dog barks in response, earning laughter from everyone.
The reception is a mix of food, music, and stories that make me both cringe and laugh. Ridge, Liam, and Fox toast us, their words a blend of teasing and sincerity that reminds me just how lucky I am to have these men in my life. Barron and King came in from Copper Mountain with their wives, Tamlyn and Indie–who’s from Devil’s Peak.
“To the woman who tamed the untamable Finn Taylor,” Ridge says, raising his glass. “And to Finn, who finally figured out how to smile without breaking something.”
The crowd roars with laughter, but my eyes are on Tessa, who’s smiling at me like I hung the damn moon.
Later, as the sun dips behind the mountains, Tessa and I slip away from the crowd. Back at the cabin, she steps into the garden she’s transformed.
“I can’t believe you moved all these plants,” I say, watching as she kneels to inspect a bloom.
“They belong here,” she says simply, glancing up at me. “With us.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, in the best way. I close the distance between us, pulling her to her feet. “You belong here,” I say, my voice rough. “With me.”
She smiles, her fingers brushing my jaw. “Forever, Finn.”
“Forever.” And as I kiss her, with the mountains standing sentinel around us and the Phantom River singing its eternal song, I know we’ve found something rare and unbreakable. A love as solid as copper, forged in fire and meant to last.
Second Epilogue
Tessa–one year later
The cabin glows warm under the soft light spilling through the windows. Inside, the faint coos of our baby, Rowan, drift through the cracked door to the nursery. My heart clenches as I rock back and forth on the porch swing, the rhythm soothing, steady. Finn’s hand rests on my thigh, his touch as constant as the mountain winds that whistle through the trees.
The view from here never gets old. The copper-rich hills of Devil’s Peak catch the last golden rays of the setting sun, casting an ethereal glow over the Phantom River as it snakes its way down the valley. The world feels vast and endless, but somehow, Finn has made it feel small. Manageable. Home.
“I never thought I’d see you sit still for more than a minute,” I tease, nudging him with my foot.
He huffs, his smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Still doesn’t come easy, sunshine.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” I murmur, leaning into his shoulder. His flannel shirt is warm and smells of sawdust and cedar. “You’re practically domesticated now.”
Finn snorts, but his arm tightens around me. “Don’t start thinking I’ve gone soft.”
“You? Soft?” I glance up, raising an eyebrow. “Please, the only thing soft about you is?—”
“Tread carefully,” he warns, his voice dropping an octave, low and rough.
The tension between us ignites instantly, the way it always does. His gaze pins me, and I swear he can see every thought I’ve ever had. Heat blooms low in my belly, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing just how easily he undoes me. Not yet.
“Fine,” I say, biting my lip to hold back a grin. “I was going to say the only thing soft about you is your obsession with Shep.”
Finn scoffs, shaking his head. “That dog’s earned his place. You? Still on probation.”
“Excuse me?” I sit up straighter, feigning offense. “I gave you a son, Finn Taylor. I think I deserve a little more credit than your dog.”
Finn turns to me fully, his hand sliding up to rest on my hip. “You gave me a miracle, Tessa,” he says, his voice softer now, though no less intense. “But Shep doesn’t wake me up at two in the morning with demands for foot rubs and snacks.”
“I’m breastfeeding your child,” I counter, narrowing my eyes. “You’re lucky that’s all I’m asking for.”
His laugh rumbles deep in his chest, and it’s so rare, so genuine, that I can’t help but join in. This is what I love most about him—his ability to hold me in the palm of his hand one second and have me laughing the next. It’s infuriating and intoxicating, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
The screen door creaks open, and Shep pads out, his tail wagging lazily. He flops down at Finn’s feet, his massive head resting on his paws, as if to say,I’m the real miracle here.
“See?” Finn gestures to the dog. “He knows his place.”
“I think he just wanted to escape Rowan’s crying,” I say, leaning back against Finn’s chest. “Smart dog.”
