Chapter 170 Chapter 170

Chapter 170 Chapter 170
Kira's POV
Epilogue 

By the middle of October, the mountain had turned into a sea of deep crimson, burnt orange, and bright yellow. The air was crisp and cold, hovering right around forty degrees, with a light morning frost that dusted the dry cornstalks in the lower garden. The woodstove in the living room was burning steady, sending a thick curl of gray hickory smoke up into the clear blue sky.

I was standing at the kitchen island wearing an oversized shirt, leggings, and thick wool socks, holding a steaming mug of black coffee in both hands. Out on the back deck, the double doors were cracked an inch to let the fresh air in, and I could hear the loud, unmistakable sound of little boots stomping back and forth against the wooden planks.

Leo was fourteen months old now, walking, or rather, full-on sprinting everywhere he went. He was wearing a pair of tiny denim overalls, a red-and-black plaid flannel shirt, and a pair of miniature yellow work boots that Martha had gifted him for his first birthday. He had a thick mop of dark, wavy hair that stuck up in every direction, and his dark eyes were constantly searching for something to climb, tear down, or shove into his mouth.

"Leo, slow down!" Talon's deep voice carried from the yard, mixed with a dry chuckle. I walked over to the open deck door, holding my coffee mug, and leaned against the timber frame to watch them.

Talon was down at the edge of the lawn near the secondary barn, unloading a fresh stack of split firewood from the back of the utility vehicle. He was wearing a faded black t-shirt despite the forty-degree chill, his muscles working smoothly under his tan skin as he tossed heavy oak logs onto the growing woodpile.

Leo was hovering right at his ankles, aggressively trying to assist by carrying a single, five-inch twig. He marched two steps, dropped the twig in the dirt, picked it back up with a dramatic grunt, and tossed it against Talon's boot.
"Good job, buddy," Talon said without missing a beat, picking up another massive log of oak and stacking it cleanly on the frame. "That's high-efficiency work right there. Keep it up."

Leo let out a loud, triumphant babble, kicking his little yellow boots against the dirt before spotting a red maple leaf fluttering across the grass. He immediately abandoned the woodpile, setting off at a top-speed, wobbly toddler jog after the leaf.
"He's heading for the shop, boss," Marcus called out from the open barn doors across the yard. Marcus walked out into the sunshine holding a small grease rag and a brass wrench. He had spent the last two hours doing the autumn tune-up on the snowblower, but the second he saw his godson running across the grass, he dropped the wrench into his pocket and dropped down onto one knee.

Leo completely ignored the maple leaf, redirecting his trajectory straight toward Marcus with an excited shout.
"Unc' Mar!" Leo squealed, his tiny voice echoing across the open pasture.

Marcus caught him mid-stride, lifting the toddler up into his arms effortlessly. Leo immediately reached out, grabbing Marcus's silver collar pin with both hands and trying to twist it off.
"Easy on the hardware, little man," Marcus grinned, sitting Leo securely on his hip and handing him a clean, unused rubber washer to play with instead. "That pin holds my whole shirt together."

Leo inspected the rubber ring with deep intensity, attempting to stick his thumb through the center hole while making little engine noises with his mouth. I smiled, taking a sip of my coffee as I stepped off the deck and walked down the lawn toward them.
"Is he bothering the property manager?" I asked, stepping up to Marcus and running a hand over Leo's dark curls.
"Never," Marcus said, looking down at Leo with a quiet pride that still made my chest warm up every time I saw it. "He's just conducting a random inspection of the lower facility. Checked the tires on the tractor five minutes ago by kicking them."

"He takes his job very seriously," Talon said, walking over with his leather work gloves tucked into his back pocket. He reached out, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me into his side, resting his chin against the top of my head. "Just like his godfather."
"Speaking of inspections," Marcus said, looking over at the long gravel driveway. "Mr. Gable's truck just cleared the lower gate." Down at the bend in the road, the familiar pickup was crawling up the hill, kicking up a light cloud of dust behind it.

Within two minutes, the truck pulled into the parking area near the house. The engine cut, and the doors swung open. Mr. Gable stepped out of the driver's side, wearing his canvas coat and battered hat, while Martha climbed down from the passenger side holding a large wicker basket covered in a red checkered cloth.
"Look who's here!" Martha called out, her face lighting up the second she spotted Leo in Marcus's arms. Leo gasped, dropping his rubber washer onto the grass and waving both arms frantically. "Mahr-tha!"

"Oh, my sweet boy!" Martha exclaimed, hurrying across the yard with her arms open. Marcus carefully passed the toddler over, and Martha wrapped him in a warm hug, kissing his cheek three times until Leo let out a loud, giggling squeal. "Happy autumn, little man! Look what I brought you!"
She pulled back the corner of the cloth covering the basket, revealing a pile of fresh, warm apple cider donuts that filled the cold air with the scent of cinnamon and sugar.
"Now that is a strategic delivery," Mr. Gable said, walking over and shaking Talon's hand before giving Marcus a firm pat on the shoulder. "Martha made forty of 'em this morning. Said if we didn't get them up the hill before noon, I'd eat half the batch myself."

"You already ate three while the oil was hot, Arthur," Martha scolded gently, though her eyes were twinkling with laughter as she set the basket on the picnic table.
"Three is testing quality," Mr. Gable argued, winking at Talon. "A man's got to ensure safety standards for the neighbors."
"Come inside," I smiled, gesturing toward the main house. "The woodstove is hot and I've got fresh coffee brewed." We all walked up the back steps together, filling the kitchen with warm noise, heavy boots, and easy laughter.

Talon set out plates on the island while Martha served up the warm cider donuts. Marcus sat on one of the wooden stools, patiently holding Leo on his knee and breaking off tiny, bite-sized pieces of donut to hand to him, making sure he chewed every single piece before giving him another.
Mr. Gable stood near the living room hearth with Talon, leaning his hip against the mantelpiece while they talked about the winter wood supply and the forecast for the upcoming snowstorms. I leaned back against the counter near the sink, holding my coffee mug, looking at the room filled with the people I loved most in the world.

A year ago, we had been sitting in the quiet silence of this fresh build, watching the winter snow drift across a raw property. We had survived corporate ambushes, freeze-outs, legal wars, and the terrifying uncertainty of building a life completely from scratch out in the high wilderness.
Now, the house was full. The timber walls were seasoned by the fire, the land was producing, the lab in the barn was running, and our son was thriving in the heart of a home that no one could ever breach again.

Talon caught my eye from across the room. He stepped away from the fireplace, walking over to stand beside me at the island. He slid his large hand over mine, his fingers lacing tightly through mine, his dark eyes fixed on me with that quiet, intense devotion that had never wavered for a single second.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked softly, leaning down so his voice was just for me. I looked at him, running my thumb over his knuckles, listening to the sound of Leo babbling happily to Marcus while Martha laughed at one of Mr. Gable's old farm stories.
"I was just thinking," I whispered, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek, "that we're finally right where we belong."
His smile was slow, deep, and complete. He pulled me flush against his side, wrapping his broad arm around my waist, watching our family gathered around the kitchen island under the warm mountain sun.

"Yeah," he whispered.murmured, kissing the top of my head as the autumn wind whistled peacefully through the pines outside. "We are."