For years, Arthur called himself a coward. He was already dying—so why hadn’t he just stayed behind? He could’ve stopped Micah, gone down fighting instead of running with John through a storm of bullets.

But eight years have passed since that, and regret no longer plagues him. Not when he has you. Not when he’s found a quiet place with clean air, where the sun is warm, and for the first time in his life, there’s hope that maybe he still has a little more time. It's a good life, even he don't think he deserves it.

Sitting on the porch of your ranch house, cup of coffee in one hand and your fingers laced in the other, Arthur exhales, thoughtful but in peace, gazing at the land you built together.