War (Boston Bolts Hockey #3)

Epilogue

TWO MONTHS LATER

Tyler

“Daddy!” I swear that might be the sweetest word in the English language. Especially when it’s spoken by the girl with strawberry-blond hair who I can now officially call my daughter.

“Yeah, Josie?”

“Mommy is almost done getting ready.”

“Is there a reason you’re screaming at me?” Grinning, I pull the casserole dish out of the oven and place it on the counter.

“Because it’s Mother’s Day, and I finally have a mother to celebrate.”

Well, shit. When she puts it like that, I wonder if I’ve done enough to honor Ava today. It’s not just a first for Josie, but for Ava too. Then again, the only thing my girls will want is to be together. That’s when they’re happiest. Also when they’re shopping. More so Josie than Ava. Josie loves a good shopping spree.

And vacations.

I’ve got another one of those planned for summer break. Unfortunately, the Bolts season ended after a string of losses in the first round of the playoffs. It wasn’t how I wanted my first season as captain to go, but I won’t lie and say my heart wasn’t in it. The stress over the last hearing weighed on me heavily, and my focus was here on my family, not on the game. And I wasn’t the only one with a lot on their plate. I also know that we’ll come back stronger next year. Right now, though, I’m not sad about spending more time with my kids and my wife. We need this time to bond, and I’m pumped to break the news that we’ll be spending a few weeks in Canada this summer. I want to show them where I grew up and introduce them to my mom—because introducing my family to a headstone is acceptable, just like texting a loved one who’s passed on. I won’t change my mind on that. And honestly, I just miss my first home.

“Want to go tell everyone brunch is ready?”

With an excited nod, she does a ballerina spin and darts out of the room. She’s been practicing nonstop for her show next week, and I couldn’t be prouder of her.

My wife is also performing, but I’m pretty sure her performance will be a little less risqué than the ones she’s been giving me in our basement after the kids go to bed. Even so, I’m looking forward to it. I’m also looking forward to the end of her classes with fake Frenchie. She’s only taking the summer off, and I’ll gladly support her when she goes back. She loves dancing, and I’d never stop her.

“Is that bacon?” Bray asks as he saunters into the kitchen and plucks a strawberry off the top of the casserole.

“Don’t eat with your hands.”

He laughs. “Okay, Dad .” The word slips out in a sarcastic tone, and for a moment he goes quiet. He was only giving me shit, but suddenly, the moment feels important. But it also feels like if I make a big deal out of it, he’ll get weird on me.

I accept the joke with a simple shrug and smile. “That’s me, Daddy War.”

“Oh god, babe. Don’t refer to yourself as that,” my wife says as she steps into the kitchen with Scarlett in her arms.

“Good morning, mon chou.” I press a kiss to Scarlett’s cheek, then give Ava one too. I woke her up with a happy Mother’s Day surprise between her thighs, so this isn’t the first time I’ m seeing her today.

“Go sit down, Mommy. I’ve got French toast casserole and bacon. You do like meat again, right?”

With a snort, she shakes her head. “Yeah. Remember, only pig.”

Once the casserole dish is on the table, ready to be passed around one bite at a time, I lift my glass of orange juice. “To our Ava. Happy Mother’s Day, beautiful. The best decision I ever made was agreeing to your crazy proposal.”

She coughs out a laugh. “Glad we’re sticking to that story.”

I wink at her. “You did ask first.”

She closes her eyes and blows out an exasperated breath.

Like every time I irritate her, I feel all sorts of gooey inside. I love nothing more than pissing off my wife.

“Seeing as how we’re stuck together for the next however many years?—”

I glare at her and she blows me a kiss.

“I have a present for you.”

Frowning, I tilt my head. “Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to be doling out the presents today?”

“Let me go first.” She turns to our kids. “You guys want to show Daddy his surprise?”

I look from her to each kid, confused.

When Brayden points at the words on his shirt, I read them aloud. “Big brother.”

“Now me,” Josie says, pointing at hers.

“Big sister.” Warmth blooms in my chest at the pure joy radiating from her. I read Scarlett’s next, and that’s when it dawns on me. “Did we get the final decree from the court? Is it official? Josie’s ours?”

Last week, the judge approved the adoption, though we’re still waiting on the paperwork. We celebrated with a pizza night followed by a marathon of all the Zombie movies. Then we slept in the living room in a fort Bray and I made.

Josie giggles. “Read Scarlett’s shirt again.”

“Big sister,” I say aloud, brow furrowing. “Wait, you’re the big sister.” I point at Josie. “Not Scarlett.”

Ava bites that lip of hers and shakes her head. “Not anymore.” Then her smile turns mischievous. “Scarlett’s been promoted to big sister too.”

My heart takes off at a sprint as all the pieces fall into place. “We’re having a baby?”

She nods as tears fill her beautiful green eyes. Eyes that feel like home to me. They’re the color of the treesoutside my first home in Canada, the color of Christmas—the first holiday we spent together as a family. They’re a color so hauntingly similar to that of the eyes of the first woman I ever loved—my mother.

In that moment I pray to any deity that can hear me that our child gets those eyes. Then I fall to my knees at my wife’s feet and press my cheek to her stomach. “Hi, baby. I’m your daddy.”

Stroking my hair, Ava smiles down at me. “He or she is just a little bean, Ty. I don’t think they can hear anything.”

I gaze up at my wife, knowing we can’t always see or hear the ones we love, but we can feel them.

I can feel my child. I can feel his or her spirit. This is the first moment I’ll spend with our child, and somehow I know my mother is here with us too. And Ava’s sister.

The ones we love never really leave. They’re always with us, even if it’s just in our hearts.

“I love you, Ava Warren. Happy Mother’s Day.”