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All the plots and the schemes, all Boyd's plans for the future, weren't enough. Without Ava, without her smile and her sharp intelligence listening to him and the smell of her perfume making him feel alive, what did it matter if he took over Harlan County? An empty accomplishment, chaff in the wind.

Boyd sat at the table in the bar with Johnny and Devil, both of them deep into their cups, and considered trying to sleep later in Johnny's noisy cabin, on a rickety cot set up in the back room, trying to ignore the sounds of Johnny coughing and rolling his wheelchair into the kitchen to get another beer. He leaned back in his chair and gave some serious thought to where he was going to live from now on … but all he could think of was Ava. How safe he had felt, how much at home in a deep and abiding way he could rarely remember feeling since he was a small child, lying in bed there and knowing she was in the house with him. She had a knack for making a house feel like a home, for making a man feel noticed and taken care of and … liked. Yes, by the end she had liked him. Other things, yes, but the miracle of Ava Crowder liking him, Boyd Crowder, enjoying his company and wanting to talk to him and taking him seriously as a man, not afraid of him or disgusted by him—that was the genuine article. He had told Johnny today he didn't believe in miracles, but he did, because he had experienced one.

With a frustrated sigh, he set his glass down on the table. "You two about done for tonight?"

"Got to make plans," Devil said slowly, but the drink had dulled his wits as well as his speech.

"You had enough already, Boyd?" Johnny was still sharp enough.

"No. Just … I have somewhere I need to be, is all."

Johnny lifted an eyebrow, but something in Boyd's face must have told him he was approaching a sore subject, and he desisted. Boyd helped them both to the truck and left them at Johnny's, raiding the icebox for the last cans of beer.

The fresh night air from the open window felt good on his face, cooling him down and clearing his head. He would drive there. Just drive there. Just … stand outside and be near her. He wouldn't go in or disturb her—he owed her more than that. But breathing the same air as she did, once more … surely that was allowed, just this one last time.

The day had been long. Lonely and empty and endless. Another one tomorrow seemed like the same thing over again. Ava had cooked, for herself, never as satisfying, and cleaned up, and scrubbed her stove and her sink, and reorganized her spice rack and then put it back again, and the hours still stretched out in front of her.

She knew she wouldn't sleep if she went to bed, that she would lie there thinking of Boyd, and of Raylan and Bowman and back again to Boyd. So instead she slipped on a jacket and went out into the chill night, walking out into the darkness where the light from the house wouldn't get in the way of the stars. Each star stood out in the sky like it had been hung there special, winking down at her. She wanted to wish on them, but she was embarrassed even to tell the stars what she wished for, because she had been so wrong.

Or had she? Because when she turned around, there, parked in front of her house, was a very familiar truck. And a familiar man leaned against it, looking up at her windows. Why was he here, if not for her? If not because he wanted what she wanted? Well, she was damn sure going to find out.

Moving nice and slow and easy, she crossed around the back of his truck , pretty proud of herself that she had come right up behind him and he hadn't noticed. Her voice, when she spoke, sounded loud in the quiet of the night. "Mr. Crowder."

Startled, Boyd turned to find her behind him. Was she angry? In some places and times, this would have been construed as stalking, and he would have found himself looking the business end of her shotgun in the eye. But there was no shotgun in her hands now as she stood there waiting for him to explain himself.

"Beautiful night," he said, knowing the words were inadequate as he spoke them.

"I thought so. Came out to see the stars."

Boyd moved toward her, drawn by the light of her, more beautiful than any star. "I guess it must be mighty confusin', me bein' here? Truth be told, I had to see you one more time, even if it was from a distance."

Usually, Ava found the way he spoke beautiful, musical and haunting and compelling, but she didn't want any more words. Not tonight. Not when he was here, where she wanted him. She leaned up and kissed him, his lips firm and warm beneath hers. And then she kissed him again, in case he hadn't gotten the message the first time.

Delight dawning in his heart, Boyd kissed her back, sliding his hands around her waist to hold her there just in case she might slip away. Ava's hands moved up around his neck, her fingers in his hair as they kissed.

With a sense of relief, of home-coming, he gathered her in his arms and held her close. Ava closed her eyes and leaned into him and just breathed, feeling safe at last.