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Epilogue (4 years later)

"Jasmine, I'm heading out!"

I heard a loud bang in the kitchen. "Where to?"

"A place."

I could envision her eye roll. "Alright, smartass. Have fun. I probably won't be back when you return because I'm going out with some friends."

"Whatever. You're twenty-four after all. I'm not your mother," I replied, stopping to sneak a glance at myself in the hall mirror. I smiled at my reflection. I wore my best pair of jeans and a nice blouse, my hair freshly combed and hanging around my shoulders. My stomach was a fit of nerves and excitement. I hadn't thought I'd make it four years, but I had. It was surprisingly easy, what with college consuming most of my life. But it was all over. I had my diploma, I was starting to make my way in the world, and I wanted a certain somebody by my side while I did it.

"Everything will be fine," my sister said from behind me. I glanced at her through the mirror, seeing her leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen.

"You think so?" I asked. Because I couldn't help that small feeling inside of me that thought everything would be a disaster.

Jasmine nodded, offering an encouraging smile. "I know so."

"Okay." I righted my shirt and ruffled my fingers through my hair, and then grabbed my keys off the end table. "Wish me luck."

"Luck is for losers, darling, and you are no loser."

I rolled my eyes but laughed, heading out the door. I exited through the lobby of the apartment I shared with my sister. It was just outside of Heart. I hadn't been able to leave North Carolina, what with my grandfather and Rhys, Emma and Skyler, and the life I wanted to build on this side of the United States. So I'd gone to college at UNC, while my sister was still finding herself in the world and figuring out what she wanted to do. We didn't have much contact with our parents. I had virtually none, as my mother had basically cut me out of her life. But that was just fine. My family was Jasmine, my grandfather, Rhys, Emma, and Skyler. And hopefully one more, if today went well. And that was all I needed.

I pulled up to the coffee shop in town and couldn't get out fast enough. I raced inside, doing a quick scope of the room. There were about five people throughout, but not the person I needed.

I walked up to the counter, telling myself not to worry. It was kind of early, anyway.

"What would you like?" the woman behind the counter asked.

"Iced coffee," I answered, drumming my fingers on the counter. She went about preparing the drink and I waited, eyes flickering to the door every so often. But nobody entered, and I saw no trace of him.

"Here's your coffee," she replied, and I took it with a smile, retrieving a seat near the back.

And I waited.

Minutes passed. Endless minutes. They turned into an hour, then before I knew it I'd passed the three-hour mark. I finished off two iced coffees and a scone, and I was sure the woman behind the counter was sick and tired of seeing me taking up space in the back corner. But I couldn't leave. Not yet. I refused to give up hope.

I took up people-watching, found them rather entertaining. An older couple came in, had coffee together, and left after about an hour. A group of businessmen entered with their Bluetooth's and laptops and set up shop a couple tables down from me. A young woman bought an espresso and chatted away on her phone in a fast language I couldn't understand. She seemed especially stressed, and had a bad habit of biting her fingernails.

I focused on anything and everything to direct away from my inner anxiety. That quiet voice that was gradually becoming louder, deep inside of me. The one that whispered, "He's not coming".

I couldn't believe that. I refused to believe that. He'd once said he would wait forever for me. He couldn't have been lying. That just wasn't something I would even consider.

Several more hours passed. I'd never waited in one place for such a long time. I checked my phone, saw it was late afternoon. I slouched down in the booth and traced invisible shapes on the table's surface. The door chimed and I whipped around hopefully, but it was just a teenage boy with his arm slung around his girlfriend, and they were ordering muffins. I sighed, heart aching.

You would think four years would heal all the pains from the past, but they were still there. The pains of what I knew him capable of doing to me, without even trying.

My head started to hurt. I contemplated a third iced coffee.

I was there for so long, I watched two shift changes. The last lady was older, with kind eyes and soft, wrinkled, skin. Her grey hair fell around her face in curls, and I could tell in her youth she was a beautiful woman. She caught my eye various times and we shared a smile. She seemed to know everybody that walked in at the late hour.

And it did get late. I was growing weary, hurt, exhausted. I wanted to go home and curl up in my bed and quite possibly just cry.

"Excuse me, Miss."

I glanced up at the older lady, standing by my table. "Yes?"

"It's Sunday, so we close early."

My stomach dropped as my heart plummeted further. "Oh," I murmured. "Okay."

"Are you alright?"

"Fine," I lied, forcing a smile. "Thank you."

She nodded, returning to her post behind the counter. My throat felt all tight and I tried not to cry. I didn't know how successful I was being. My cheeks were still dry, so I guessed that was something.

The bells above the door chimed again, but I only heard it in the back of my mind. I checked my phone and found no missed calls or messages. I tucked it in my pocket and started sliding out of the booth-

"Excuse me," a voice stated at the counter, halting my actions. My eyes widened and my heart hit the ground running.

"Yes?" the woman replied. "We're closing soon, son."

"I know. I was just wondering if a woman came by."

"Can you describe her?"

"Yes, she's-" he started, trailing off when I hopped out of the booth and whirled around, hoping and praying that the voice I heard was who I thought it was.

Our eyes collided. Blue and green, with as much power and intensity as I remembered.

"Right there," he finished on a whisper. I couldn't even explain the feeling sweeping over me, taking over my body and actions. I took in his body, saw minute changes. His hair was longer, he had a five o'clock shadow going on. He was taller, a little more filled out, his blue eyes having lost that icy edge. They were softer, more open, less unstable.

The older attendant glanced between us and seemed to come to an understanding of the situation, as she quickly fled through the back door and out of sight.

"Alec," I whispered, choking up. In him I saw my past, and I saw my future. I saw holding hands out in public together, taking road trips to places we'd always wanted to go, facing the world and adversity, slaying what demons remained.

I saw all of that, and regardless of everything, I wanted it. God, I wanted it.

He didn't have to say anything, and neither did I. He held out his hand, that one gesture translating into so much. I could take it, and we could uphold our promise. Find our future together. Or I could walk away, and I could be miserable.

The choice was clear.

I let out a happy cry, running toward him, my life. Our fingers touched and he crushed me against him, and finally, finally . . .

I found where I belonged.