Chapter 105 – Epilogue
Chapter 105 – Epilogue
Six months later, the house felt like sunlight.
We’d traded the glass-and-steel penthouse for a home with wide windows and a garden that smelled of rosemary and mint. Harper said it suited me—suited us—better. I agreed. The city was still there, humming just beyond the gates, but here the air was softer. When the wind moved through the trees, it didn’t sound like footsteps. It sounded like possibility.
I padded barefoot across the kitchen, hair pulled into a loose knot, paint still under my nails from a morning spent on canvases. The house had a studio built onto the back, skylights overhead, walls that didn’t know the weight of secrets. My latest piece—a swirl of ocean blues and ribbons of light—leaned against an easel, still drying.
Levi’s laughter drifted in from the deck. Deep, unguarded, the kind that used to come rarely. Luca’s voice followed, lower, teasing. When I stepped outside, they were tangled in conversation over coffee and plans for the day. The sight of them—here, whole, alive—still stole my breath.
They looked up when I joined them. Levi tugged me into his lap without hesitation, his arm heavy and warm around my waist. Luca leaned close enough that his shoulder brushed mine, a silent anchor. No shadows. No hesitation.
“How was the studio?” Luca asked, eyes flicking to the streak of blue on my wrist.
“Messy,” I admitted. “But good. I sold the last piece.”
Levi grinned, pressing a kiss against my temple. “Of course you did. World’s catching up to what we already know.”
Harper appeared a few minutes later, balancing a tray of lemon bars she’d sworn she wasn’t baking this week. She claimed she was “just visiting,” but she came so often the guest room had her pajamas folded in the drawer. She fussed about sunscreen, about whether we’d eaten enough, about the fact that Levi still left his shoes in the middle of the hall.
It felt like family.
The headlines about Daniel had faded months ago—Ex-Detective Cross Sentenced to Life Without Parole. His name came up less and less, until it didn’t come up at all. I thought it would haunt me longer. Some nights the echo still tried, creeping into dreams, but I woke between them, their hands finding me, their voices steady. The fear didn’t linger anymore.
I was lighter now. Freer. Transformed.
We didn’t talk about ownership or purity or what was taken. We talked about where to travel next. About Harper’s dating life, which she insisted on oversharing. About which canvas I should show at the gallery opening, which Luca swore was all of them.
There were still moments when my breath caught—when Levi’s shadow fell across me too quickly, when a door slammed louder than expected—but I didn’t crumble. I named the fear, and it passed. That was the promise I’d made at sunrise, and I was keeping it.
This house wasn’t just walls and windows. It was proof. Proof that recovery wasn’t about going back, but about building forward. Proof that joy could be chosen, even after everything.
Levi brushed his lips against my ear, whispering, “Still ours. Every damn day.”
Luca’s hand slid into mine, strong and sure. “Always.”
I looked out at the garden, at Harper stealing one of her own lemon bars, at the men who had stood between me and every darkness, and felt it settle like truth in my bones.
I wasn’t hiding. I wasn’t surviving. I was living.
I hadn’t just been twice touched by fate.
I was forever touched by the love I chose.
Author’s Note
Thank you so much for reading Twice Touched. This is my very first book, and I cannot express enough how much your time, support, and feedback mean to me. Every comment, every review, every shared thought helps me grow as a writer and inspires me to keep creating stories.
This journey has been one of vulnerability, strength, and love—and I’m beyond grateful that you chose to take it with me.
More stories are already on the horizon, and I can’t wait to share them with you. Please look out for my next book—it’s only the beginning.
With gratitude and love,
Januar Storm