Page 169 of Knot Snowed in
Later, when the bar closes down, Milo will count out his register and hang up his apron and join us in the truck. We’ll drive home through the dark Montana night, stars scattered across the sky, his hand warm on my thigh while Ben makes jokes and Elijah pretends to be annoyed.
We’ll walk into our house—cedarwood and leather and dark chocolate and lavender, four scents tangled together until they’re one—and argue about whose turn it is to make tea.
Milo will win, because Milo always wins. He’ll bring me chamomile while Ben rubs my feet and Elijah reads in his chair, looking up every few pages just to make sure we’re all still there.
And eventually, we’ll pile into the nest I’ve built in our bedroom—blankets soft against skin, pillows forming walls, their stolen clothing woven through the layers. They’ll arrange themselves around me, protective and tender, purring low and content as they settle.
Ben will make a joke about me leaving my suppressants in the car—the mistake that started everything, the one he thanks me for at least once a week.
Milo will laugh.
Elijah will tell them both to shut up so I can sleep.
And I will. Safe and warm andtheirs.
This is my ending. The one I never planned for. The one that happened anyway—messy and chaotic and absolutely perfect.
Or maybe it’s not an ending at all.
Maybe it’s just the beginning.
