Epilogue #2

“Get to the point, Pops,” Greyson shouts from his perch in the dunk tank. “You’re skipping over the most important part.”

“I’m gettin’ there, ya ninny,” Pops calls over his shoulder. “Anyway,” he says, turning back to me. “He bought this one on his way out of the hospital when he was a teen.”

Savvy steps up next to me. “You’ve always resided in his heart, Clove. Now he’s ready to stand by your side too.”

I’m finding it really hard to speak. All the times he thought of me, even when we were apart, are displayed through these happy balls of glitter. It’s overwhelming me in the best way possible because this is love.

“Chief’s next,” Pops says, jerking his thumb toward the cram-the-cruiser booth. “And Clover? Whatever happens…” His voice softens in a way I’ve rarely heard. “You deserve this. All of it.” He presses the large target, and Greyson falls into the icy water.

I’m so choked up I have to swipe my nose with the back of my hand. So much for looking cute today. I’m pretty sure I now rival something from Stranger Things. I read the next letter through tear-filled eyes.

Honeybee,

You collect snow globes because each one holds a tiny world of happiness.

I want to build that for you. Not a tiny world, but a real one. A life where every day feels like shaking the globe and watching the sparkles fall.

Keep following.

—V

Chief’s standing by the police cruiser with Elle, who’s helping him cram more canned goods into the back seat. He manages to look gruff and emotional, while she’s just pure sunshine and frustration.

I know the feeling.

“I threatened to bury him in the woods if he hurt you,” he says without preamble. “Told him I knew places they’d never find a body and have friends who’d help.”

“I heard.”

“He looked me dead in the eye and said he understood.” Chief scoffs before taking a swig from his thermos. “That’s when I knew he was serious. A man who accepts a death threat without flinching is a man who knows what he wants.”

He hands me an envelope and a folded piece of paper.

“That’s from one of your letters,” he says. “One of the ones you wrote him years ago. I helped him frame it, and he carries a photocopy in his wallet. Real sucker for romance, that one.”

I unfold the paper with shaking hands and see a photocopy of my own handwriting from years ago.

I still believe you’ll find your way back to me. I’ll be here when you do. —Your Clover

The tears are falling so fast I don’t bother wiping them away anymore. But Chief does hand me a wad of tissues with a gesture that must mean I’m blowing some gnarly snot bubbles because he visibly relaxes after I clear my nose.

“Agnes is next,” Chief says gruffly. “Go on, open your letter and don’t keep him waiting. That boy is probably shitting bricks as it is.”

Opening the envelope, I read his words.

Honeybee,

You wrote that you’d be here when I found my way back.

You kept that promise for fourteen years.

Now let me keep mine.

One more stop.

—V

Agnes’s purple tent is at the edge of the fair, right where it always is, but tonight, it’s different.

The entrance is draped with fairy lights—actual fairies whose wings light up and flicker in the night. Photos are strung on golden sparkly thread, fluttering in the breeze.

These ones aren’t of our past though—they’re of our present. Valen standing between Greyson and Braxton. Me and Valen with Chief between us. Me, Madi, Elle, and Savvy surrounded by the Harrington brothers.

This is our family now, a glimpse into our future.

Madi and Agnes stand at the entrance with Pothole on a new crystal-encrusted leash.

“I told him you’d come,” Agnes says. “The cards never lie. I pulled the Lovers, the Sun, and the Ten of Cups. A perfect spread for a perfect ending.” She winks—or blinks—and when she laughs, I know she’s doing it on purpose. “Or should I say, a perfect beginning.”

Madi charges me and wraps me in a hug I can’t return because my hands are full of everything I’ve collected tonight. “I’m so happy for you,” she whispers. “Truly, seeing you shine is more than I could’ve ever hoped for you. I love you. We all love you. Now, go put that big guy out of his misery.”

Agnes pulls back the tent flap, and I step inside.

The interior has been transformed. More fairy lights. More photos. More honeybees painted on every surface. And in the center, standing exactly where the tarot table should be, is Valen.

He’s holding a single honey-gold rose, and he’s looking at me like I’m the only person in the world.

“Hi,” he says.

I laugh—a wet, overwhelmed sound—and say, “Hi yourself.”

“You followed the bees.”

“I followed the bees.” I hold up my collection—letters, honey, snow globe, my own words reflected at me. “And you wrote me letters.”

“I figured it was time I wrote some back.” He steps closer, and his nerves show by the twitching of his eyebrow. This man, who has faced down immeasurable danger without flinching, is nervous. “I have a lot to say.”

“You involved the entire town.”

“They insisted.” He frowns, but it quickly transforms into a reluctant smile. “Apparently, my plan was insufficient and lacked emotional resonance.” He makes air quotes. “Agnes can be so damn pushy.”

“So Agnes planned this?” I try not to let that little tidbit ruin whatever’s coming next.

“Betty planned the food. Pops handled logistics. Chief provided security, which I’m pretty sure just means he glared at anyone who got too close. Agnes did the tent. Roman complained the entire time but showed up anyway.”

He takes another step, close enough now that I can feel the warmth radiating off him.

“But no, Honeybee. I planned this. I may have had to watch thirty-five romantic comedies before my plan passed the town council that was created specifically to ensure I didn’t fuck this up, but I planned it, from my heart, for you.

And just because all of this isn’t enough, the Harringtons are outside, pretending they’re not pressed against the tent wall trying to listen. ”

On cue, I hear Chase’s voice. “We are not.”

Followed by Grant. “Shut up, Chase, you’re ruining it.”

Valen winks and takes my hand.