Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale , as well as a feminine take on William’s
name—reminded me of the love I foolishly pushed away and left. If
it takes me one year or a hundred, I will claim your love as my
own.”
“Brody,” she whispered as tears fell from her eyes.
She couldn’t believe he’d remembered what she’d told him the reason
was for her having the name she did. Why her English professor
parents had named her what they had.
He slid his hand down and gripped her hair, tugging
her head back and burying his face in her neck. She allowed her
eyes to drift closed even as the sun crested the horizon, filling
the sky with oranges, yellows, and purples.
“I love you,” she admitted to him and the morning
air. “I’ve always loved you.”
f
Epilogue
Brody stepped from the SUV and looked around
Cottonwood Falls. It was good to be home. He cast a glance up at
the house, aware that Hermione was still at work and wouldn’t be
back for another few hours yet.
He’d flown in early to surprise her. He’d missed her.
They still had rocky moments but were making progress. He had stood
beside her when the reporters had arrived, proud of how she’d
handled the questions.
Hermione had traveled out to California once, but he
could tell when she was there how uncomfortable she was and hadn’t
insisted she come back again. Hopefully, though, she would agree to
come with him this time.
He’d gotten three more movies ever since the release
of his big break and was very busy on location shooting. Still, he
made it a point, even if he needed to capitalize on the few hours
of sleep he was granted, to call her and speak with her once a
day.
When he was here in Cottonwood Falls, people treated
him like Brody, instead of the action star, Alton Rivers, as they’d
had when he first come back. He liked that, being able to walk into
the diner and eat without being swarmed. Being able to go to the
high school games and cheer on the students from his town. Or, even
playing baseball or a pickup basketball game with guys he went to
school with. Here, things didn’t become a news article.
After three trips to his SUV and back, he finally had
everything out and began setting it up. The winter days were cold,
and the sun set early. The slice of Hermione’s headlights across
the front windows had anticipation burning in his gut.
He stepped out on the porch to meet her. “Hello,
beautiful.”
“Brody, I thought you weren’t arriving until
tomorrow.” She hurried up the steps and into his arms.
Their lips met, and his hands found their way below
her coat. “I missed you,” he muttered. “Caught an earlier
flight.”
“I missed you, too.”
“How was your day?”
She smiled. “Good. I got to hang out with Bastian
Müller today. He’s back from Arizona and working the wildfires out
there. Haven’t seen him in a while.”
“I remember him. He was what, two years ahead of us?
Hung out with”—he snapped his fingers—“the one who left to join the
Marines. I don’t remember his name.”
“Grey Sorenson. And, Grey didn’t join the Corps; he
went to the Navy. I believe he’s a SEAL.”
He brushed some of her hair back. It hung loose
around her face, how he loved it. “That’s right. Let’s go inside. I
have supper ready.”
“Do your Hollywood peeps know the mighty Alton Rivers
cooks dinner when he’s back in Cottonwood Falls more than one night
a week?”
“Nope. Or that I do dishes.” He opened the door and
waited for her to precede him.
“I’m not sure I believe it, either,” she teased,
stepping in, only to draw up with a gasp. “Oh, my God, Brody. What
is all this?”
“Flowers.” He kissed the side of her neck before
pushing the door shut behind him and assisting her off with her
coat.
“You brought me Amazon Lilies?” She moved toward the
two-foot tall potted plants. Their white flowers emanating a sweet
scent to the air. “And Passion flowers, water hyacinth, water
lilies, and
name—reminded me of the love I foolishly pushed away and left. If
it takes me one year or a hundred, I will claim your love as my
own.”
“Brody,” she whispered as tears fell from her eyes.
She couldn’t believe he’d remembered what she’d told him the reason
was for her having the name she did. Why her English professor
parents had named her what they had.
He slid his hand down and gripped her hair, tugging
her head back and burying his face in her neck. She allowed her
eyes to drift closed even as the sun crested the horizon, filling
the sky with oranges, yellows, and purples.
“I love you,” she admitted to him and the morning
air. “I’ve always loved you.”
f
Epilogue
Brody stepped from the SUV and looked around
Cottonwood Falls. It was good to be home. He cast a glance up at
the house, aware that Hermione was still at work and wouldn’t be
back for another few hours yet.
He’d flown in early to surprise her. He’d missed her.
They still had rocky moments but were making progress. He had stood
beside her when the reporters had arrived, proud of how she’d
handled the questions.
Hermione had traveled out to California once, but he
could tell when she was there how uncomfortable she was and hadn’t
insisted she come back again. Hopefully, though, she would agree to
come with him this time.
He’d gotten three more movies ever since the release
of his big break and was very busy on location shooting. Still, he
made it a point, even if he needed to capitalize on the few hours
of sleep he was granted, to call her and speak with her once a
day.
When he was here in Cottonwood Falls, people treated
him like Brody, instead of the action star, Alton Rivers, as they’d
had when he first come back. He liked that, being able to walk into
the diner and eat without being swarmed. Being able to go to the
high school games and cheer on the students from his town. Or, even
playing baseball or a pickup basketball game with guys he went to
school with. Here, things didn’t become a news article.
After three trips to his SUV and back, he finally had
everything out and began setting it up. The winter days were cold,
and the sun set early. The slice of Hermione’s headlights across
the front windows had anticipation burning in his gut.
He stepped out on the porch to meet her. “Hello,
beautiful.”
“Brody, I thought you weren’t arriving until
tomorrow.” She hurried up the steps and into his arms.
Their lips met, and his hands found their way below
her coat. “I missed you,” he muttered. “Caught an earlier
flight.”
“I missed you, too.”
“How was your day?”
She smiled. “Good. I got to hang out with Bastian
Müller today. He’s back from Arizona and working the wildfires out
there. Haven’t seen him in a while.”
“I remember him. He was what, two years ahead of us?
Hung out with”—he snapped his fingers—“the one who left to join the
Marines. I don’t remember his name.”
“Grey Sorenson. And, Grey didn’t join the Corps; he
went to the Navy. I believe he’s a SEAL.”
He brushed some of her hair back. It hung loose
around her face, how he loved it. “That’s right. Let’s go inside. I
have supper ready.”
“Do your Hollywood peeps know the mighty Alton Rivers
cooks dinner when he’s back in Cottonwood Falls more than one night
a week?”
“Nope. Or that I do dishes.” He opened the door and
waited for her to precede him.
“I’m not sure I believe it, either,” she teased,
stepping in, only to draw up with a gasp. “Oh, my God, Brody. What
is all this?”
“Flowers.” He kissed the side of her neck before
pushing the door shut behind him and assisting her off with her
coat.
“You brought me Amazon Lilies?” She moved toward the
two-foot tall potted plants. Their white flowers emanating a sweet
scent to the air. “And Passion flowers, water hyacinth, water
lilies, and
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