Mountain Refuge (Mountain Mutineers #1)

Epilogue

Elijah

Five Years Later

T hey say as you get older, all you think about are the regrets you have in life. I have regrets. Some major ones. But I will never regret accepting a job from a billionaire to tutor his son nor will I ever regret turning right at a fork in the road on a snowy mountain.

As I stood at the altar looking around at the friends and family, both new and old, gathered to celebrate this special day, I can only see the good things.

My children, for instance. Belle, who was now fourteen years old, was becoming so much like her Uncle Corbin that she’d even started to curse like him. On her lap was Lucas, who was now almost seven. Though it had been a long and arduous journey to get us to where we are, Lucas was determined to not allow his epileptic diagnosis slow him down. It was something he would be living with for the remainder of his life. Chase, his service Chocolate Lab, sat at attention next to my little family. Beast, Belle’s fully trained-protection Belgian Malinois, sat on the other side .

Corbin and Gertie were two others in my life I was eternally grateful for. Corbin had his arm around his woman with their young son on his lap. Their daughter sat next to her grammy in a beautiful, pastel pink-lace dress.

Jack sat on the other side of Gertie. He was another presence I would forever be grateful to in my life. From that first phone call when he’d calmly talked me through what to do to get my kids and me to the mountain, to getting all of the charges against me dropped, to taking me under his wing and making me an official Mountain Mutineer… Jack had been there. My first assignment had been one I shared with Brooke, taking in a young, battered mother and her baby. We were never told details as to who they were or why Jack was aiding them. We did happen to know that the woman and her son were special to Owen, so we were surprised when the woman decided to leave the mountain after two years to go live in a small town in Pennsylvania.

Most of our cases ended up keeping us on the mountain, though we accepted the occasional one if we were traveling to visit my parents or when Trenton had been in rehab.

Next to me at the altar was Trenton. Though he did not call me ‘Dad’, I had taken on that role for him. Especially during his recovery. The damage done by the bullet was irreversible, but it was so much better than death. I was constantly reminding him that I would rather have to help him every day to the bathroom for the rest of our lives than bury him in a cold grave.

The brain damage Trenton had endured resulted in a speech impediment and he temporarily lost the use of the entire left side of his body. He couldn’t even blink for a time and had to rely on manual eyedrops to keep his eyeball moist. He had to learn everything over again, from speech to walking to eating to going to the bathroom.

During this time, Trenton had signed everything over to me. With his father gone, everything belonged to him. I had accepted becoming his medical power of attorney but refused to accept financial responsibility for all of his inherited assets. Trenton had not lost the ability to write and had transcribed an argument that he wanted to make sure Belle and Lucas were taken care of if he did not make it. I had reluctantly accepted.

Since then, trusts had been set up for Lucas and Belle to receive when they turn eighteen and again at twenty-five. It was enough to set both of them up for life.

Trenton had insisted on building Brooke and me a new cabin. The old one had been torn down, completely in ruins after the gunfight. The new cabin had four bedrooms and three full baths. Along with a massive kitchen, pantry, and met all of Brooke’s requirements for her stores and utilities.

Trenton had fought long and hard to regain his independence and strength back. He still walked with a brace on his right leg and a cane, but that was beyond amazing progress. One doctor had told Trenton he would never walk again. Trenton had shown him, and the world, just how strong he truly was.

Though certain details were fabricated, we had controlled the narrative of what the world knew about Sebastian Gunther’s death and the attack on his own children. Thankfully, Trenton had had the funds to hire private security as well as go to the best rehab facilities that would keep the public eye off of him during his recovery.

The music started up and I couldn’t help the smile that crossed my face at the sight of Brooke walking down the aisle toward us. She wore boots, jeans, and a flannel top. My mountain woman, true to form.

Her long blonde braid now had some gray hairs in it. The bouquet of flowers she held were handpicked from our own land. She was just as beautiful as the day we’d met over six years ago. Just like then, she lit up my world and added so much fire to my blood I was surprised I didn’t start self-combusting.

Brooke finally reached me at the end of the aisle. I offered her my arm, which she accepted with a smile. Not wanting to steal the spotlight, I gently kissed her on the cheek before leading her off to the side.

Then we stood back and watched as Trenton’s future bride walked down the aisle on the arm of her disapproving, but thankfully silent, father.

As Brooke had once said, our lives on the mountain might not be conventional, but they were our own. We were safe, free, and most importantly, together.

I had found my refuge.