Rosalie was starting her freshman year at Berkeley while Braxen stayed in Faithful with our parents. It was their only concession after Rosalie divorced Pete. To Amelia and David, their youngest daughter had committed a sin worse than murder and wanted nothing to do with her beyond their grandson.
I didn’t relish that.
I didn’t feel victorious or satisfied.
I wished more than anything that my baby sister could have it all—her dreams, her faith, her son, our parents, and true love.
But she had me, and she had Braxen whenever she needed family.
Houston, Loren, and Rich too.
“You’re missing two,” Rosalie pointed out. “Why didn’t Houston and Rich come?”
I absolutely knew the three of them had spoiled my sister rotten when she actually pouted at their absence. They doted on her. The word no was never an option, no matter how much I warned them.
“Next time,” I promised her. “You know they’re good for it.”
Rosalie gave us the tour of her dorm and the campus, and a few hours later, Loren had to pry us apart when it was time to go.
Loren was eager to get back, and so was I for the same reason Houston and Rich had elected to stay behind.
The flight home was short. Our day trip quickly came to an end when we finally reached our path, our woods surrounding it, and our castle hidden within.
Even though I had been reluctant to move in and determined to wait during the first year of our relationship, I couldn’t seem to find a reason to leave—only ever excuses to stay until the three of them had put their foot down and hijacked my address. I’ve been living with them ever since and never looked back despite Loren’s refusal to help with chores, Houston stealing my leftovers, and Rich hogging the TV.
The only real downside was that I didn’t get to see Griff and Maeko, who were now married, as much.
A shirtless Houston, wearing only basketball shorts, was waiting underneath the carriage porch when the car pulled up. I knew if he turned around, I’d see the tattoo on his strong back, but he never took his gaze away from me. Even though I was eager to be in his arms and feel his lips, I stopped to smell the flowers.
Literally.
Rich, on his hands and knees, had planted a small meadow in the middle of our drive that had once been just a grassy island.
Lilacs.
He’d given me lilacs.
Finally reaching Houston, he lifted me, wrapped my legs around his waist, and kissed me deeply as if it had been days instead of hours. Our lips were still attached when he carried me inside while Loren trailed us.
“Any change?” I asked him as we moved through the house.
“Temperature’s dropped two degrees.”
Loren rushed past us at hearing that news, and we followed him into one of the bedrooms a few seconds later. Rich, also shirtless and wearing jeans, was sleeping in the rocking chair with his head back and mouth open as he snored like a bear. Like Loren, he’d made some changes too. His hair was no longer shaggy but cut short, and his eyes were no longer sad but filled with the confidence of someone who’d found their place in the world.
The drummer was completely oblivious to our presence after being up all night.
“Da-da.”
It was all the permission Loren, who was standing over the crib, needed. He reached inside and lifted our son from his bed. He started bouncing his chunky butt excitedly in his father’s arms despite his fever that forced our trip to be quick.
“Missed you too, tough guy.”
Finally spotting me, our baby started squealing, which startled his father out of his sleep. Rich shot to his feet before realizing we were in the room and relaxing but only slightly. Houston set me down, and I went to him.
“Sorry to wake you.”
“It’s okay,” he told me in a groggy voice. After scrubbing his eyes, he grabbed me and kissed me briefly before turning to our son, who was babbling excitedly at the four of us. “Coda, what are you doing awake, man? We had an agreement.”
Coda.
The beginning of the final passage.
Or, in our case, the start of our happily ever after. I didn’t think it was possible to feel any more complete until his arrival a year ago.
He definitely hadn’t been planned.
Too much time on the road hadn’t allowed me to remember birth control.
Red hair.
Brown eyes.
Moody as hell.
Without a DNA test, I couldn’t be sure who’d fathered him. I didn’t care, and neither did Houston, Loren, and Jericho. Coda would always have three fathers.
Our son reached out, and Jericho carefully took him in his tattooed hands. He’d gotten the piece at the same time Loren and Houston had gotten theirs.
Whatever had been responsible for me smelling and tasting my emotions never returned, and maybe it never would.