CUT: Epilogue
Seb balanced a fresh bag of popcorn in one hand as he accepted a large soft drink from the concession stand with the other. The theater lobby buzzed with holiday chatter. He turned, smiling wide, as Channing Frost leaned casually beside him, still on a crutch from his healing wounds, but looking every bit the imposing hunk he’d always been. His henley shirt hung open to mid-chest, revealing the deep cleft between thick, powerful pectorals dusted with auburn hair, the fabric stretching tight across his broad shoulders and biceps. Faded jeans clung to his massive quads like a second skin, outlining every ridge and bulge of those tree-trunk legs. “Hey there, fellas,” came a warm, familiar baritone. They looked up. Deputy Dezzy Frost cut an effortlessly handsome figure even out of uniform—brightly colored Christmas sweater in bold red and green patterns somehow managing to accentuate rather than hide his muscular build. The knit fabric pulled snug across his wide chest and tapered torso, s...