Golden Burn (Songs of Crime #1)

Epilogue

Odin

‘Golden Hour’- Kacey Musgraves REPEAT

FIVE YEARS LATER

I can hear giggles from inside the house. Three girls and one very annoying male.

The weather is brisk, so cold that my hands shake as I put the key into the lock and twist. Snow spills into the open doorway as I step inside. Dom’s and Ford’s house in London is charming and quaint, but never this quiet. Or this dark.

“Hello?” I call, taking off my coat to hang it by the door. A quick giggle and a shh erupts as I step deeper into the warm house. My lips curl, my heart leaps out of my chest.

The tension reaches boiling point and snaps with the sound of a loud, “ Daddy! ”

The lights flicker on, and several adults and small children jump up from behind the couch and scream. “Surprise!”

My daughter—Hazel Gen Lewis—comes racing around, her two black pigtails bouncing, and leaps into my outstretched arms. “Hi, my little love. I missed you,” I say, scooping her against my chest and giving her a tight squeeze. She giggles and writhes, wanting to lean back so she can poke me in the eye. I let her try for a second and then swallow her finger in my mouth. She shrieks and pulls away. Then she spins back to me and places the same finger on my lips. “Shh.”

“Is the baby asleep?” She nods and burrows her head into the crook of my neck, wrapping her tiny arms around me. Content to carry her around all night, I walk over to my wife and kiss her like we’ve been separated for years, not weeks. Our newest addition is asleep in her arms, sucking on his pacifier. She smiles against my lips. I breathe in her blueberry scent, loving how it soothes every part of me.

“Did you have fun? Did they name a new dinosaur after you?” Etta asks. Her blue eyes twinkle so bright it’s like two polished sapphires, or maybe their intensity is more obvious because I’ve been away for three weeks and haven’t seen them. The photos on my phone never do her beauty justice.

“Not yet.” I smile. “But I need a break from digging in the dirt. I’m glad to be home again.”

“We’re glad to have you,” Ford says, coming to wrap me in a hug. Hazel squirms in my arms, reaching for her friend. I don’t want to let her go just yet, but she’s got a set of lungs, and she’s figured out if she uses them correctly, she’ll most likely get her way. Taylor—Ford and Dom’s adopted daughter, one year older than Hazel—squeals with delight when they are both reunited. They toddle together over to the Christmas tree and start to pick up the perfectly wrapped presents. Juniper and Romeo are currently napping by the fire, and if I had to guess, the girls have exhausted them both.

Dom comes up to me and hands me a glass of whiskey as he hugs me. “The girls are dying to open their presents. I said to wait till after dinner, but we decided it’s your call since you’ve been traveling.”

I peer over at the girls and they both watch me with a laser sharp focus. “Before dinner sounds great.”

“Find a seat, girls. Uncle Ford is Santa this year,” Etta says, urging the girls to sit down on the richly patterned rug.

Ford stomps his feet and rubs his belly. “Ho ho ho. Who’s been good this year?”

“Me!” the girls shout in unison.

Etta laughs and takes a seat on the coach. My son—Kacey Blue—starts to wake, his eyes fluttering open. I move over and sit beside them, placing my arm around Etta’s shoulders as she gets ready to feed him. When he’s settled and latched on, Etta and I look at each other. It’s like being hit by a bolt of electricity every time we do. I can’t even fathom how lucky I am. How proud.

“ I’ve been a very good girl,” my wife whispers, making me laugh.

“You are the definition of good.” She runs her hands down the arm that currently hides all my tattoos of our adventures. I want to take off my shirt and show her the new one I got—the date of Kacey’s birthday—but refrain. I can show her later when we’re in private.

We kiss as my daughter and her best friend start ripping into their presents, my son feeds from his mother, and my friends watch on, holding hands, delirious in their joy.

The fire crackles quietly from the hearth as the snow falls in sheets beyond the walls. The world spins and turns and the people in this room make it so.

I can’t wait for the next cycle.

And I can’t wait to share it with her.