Page 73 of Tangled Past
Epilogue
Eight Months Later . . .
Maya stood at the edge of the small clearing overlooking the harbor, the hem of her dress billowing in the breeze. It wasn’t elaborate. Ivory lace sleeves, a soft fitted bodice, a skirt that moved when she did. Something she could breathe in. Something that felt like her.
Rachel adjusted the clasp at the back of Maya’s necklace, her fingers gentle. “You’re allowed to be nervous, but you’re not allowed to bolt. I’m wearing heels I can’t chase after you in.”
Maya smiled, the emotion sharp and bright in her chest. “I’m not running.”
Rachel spun her around and met her eyes. “Good. Because he looks like he might faint.”
Maya laughed softly and glanced toward the makeshift arbor near the bluff—driftwood beams wrapped in greenery and tiny white lights. Asa stood there with Will and JT, hands clasped loosely in front of him, shoulders squared as if he was bracing for impact.
Only this time, the impact was joy.
JT leaned in and murmured something. Asa’s focus never wavered from the path Maya would walk down.
“Best man material,” Maya said.
Rachel snorted. “He cried during the rehearsal.”
“That was dust.”
“That wasnotdust.”
Maya closed her eyes for a brief second and took a measured breath.
Six months.
Six months since the hospital room where Jonas lay under guard, pale and stripped of the power he’d hidden behind for decades. Six months since the charges were read—multiple counts of murder across the mainland, obstruction of justice, tampering with records, the murder of Raymond Dutton, the murder of Vanessa Warren.
Life without parole.
No lighthouse shadows left to hide in.
Although he’d survived his wounds, he hadn’t survived the truth.
Asa had stood through every hearing, every press conference, every quiet moment afterward when grief came in waves instead of storms. Maya had wanted to read the names of Jonas’s victims aloud in court, and she’d been able to do so, including her mother’s.
They’d learned about the old tunnel system that Jonas used to disappear when needed. A dark part of Hope Island’s history that Jonas had resurrected.
When Asa had finally proposed to Maya—kneeling awkwardly in the bistro kitchen with flour on his sleeve and nerves written all over his face—she hadn’t hesitated.
Yes.
Always yes.
So far, they hadn’t uncovered any information about her mother or whether she had family members still living, butAsa had promised her they’d keep looking until they knew everything about Vanessa Warren.
She touched the silver locket around her neck. Until then, she had this part of her mother.
The music began—simple, acoustic, carried by the wind. Maya opened her eyes.
“This is it,” Rachel said softly. “You ready?”
Maya nodded. “I’ve been ready my whole life. I just didn’t know it.”
Rachel squeezed her hand once, then stepped aside.
