“God, I love you, even when you’re teasing me so badly I want to murder you, I love you, Creed, so much.” Her face is sideways on the pillow, her dreamy smile letting me know my woman is drunk on the intense lovemaking we just experienced.
“Love you, sugar. You can’t have my dick if you murder me, remember that.” I smack the cheek of her ass, hating to leave her pussy but knowing it’s time to clean her up, then get some sleep before our son wakes his momma up to nurse. Fuck, how I love watching her with our son. This family of ours, it was meant to fucking be, now and always.
Epilogue
Laney
Six Years Later
It’s been a whirlwind to say the least—three children, and Creed leaving in the middle of the night sometimes when a storm hits. Though that doesn’t happen as much since he took a management position, there are still times when I’m in the kitchen packing him food in the middle of the night. Kind of like a week ago when the call came at two o’clock in the morning. Both of us tiptoed through the house, not wanting our three boys to wake up. Yep, three boys are what we were graced with—our oldest, Logan, being just a bit over five years old, our second, Ethan, coming in at three, and our youngest, Zach, having just turned one a couple of weeks ago. As much as Creed and I tried for a girl, after three boys, I put my foot down. It was me who wanted to give him a little girl, not the other way around, so basically, I was the deciding factor, but the fact that he thanked God that three were plenty told me he was okay with it too.
Our three boys woke up, it’s as if they had a second sense when it came to us moving around the house and their daddy was in boots. The two older boys came out, Logan carrying one of his blankets, Ethan with a stuffed animal, and then, soon after, Zach was ready to nurse. Try as I might to wean him, for nap time and bedtime he seems to need the comfort. Creed and I just go with the flow, it’s not like he’ll be nursing when he’s five. It’s either that or one day, my milk will eventually dry up. Doubtful though.
It sucked that Creed had to leave, but having the kids send him off with lots of hugs and kisses, the boys carrying out what they could to his truck. If I’d had my camera ready, I would have snapped as many pictures as I could. So, when Creed called this morning after being gone for seven long days, telling me he was coming home, it was sheer joy. Don’t get me wrong, I love our boys, but they’re boys, full of energy, and no amount of mud pies, hanging with the horses at my family’s farm, our place, or the lake was wearing them out. Even my parents couldn’t tire them out when they took all three boys for an afternoon so I could work. And that’s saying something. Or they may have sugared them up, there’s no telling. Speaking of my father, he has basically made a full recovery. All the appointments, therapy, and Nurse Ratchet in the house with a side of my mother giving everyone hell seemed to have done the trick. The only changes are that his jaw doesn’t always go in the direction he wants it to when he grins and that he’s got a limp that’s noticeable. For the most part, though, he’s back to his normal self and dictating the ranch around worse than Rhett did. None of us care though, we’re just so happy to have him up and moving again, talking, and raising all kinds of hell.
“Is he here yet?” Logan asks, wiggling in his seat on the front porch.
“Not yet. You’ll see the clouds of dust well before you hear him.” All of the boys are waiting for Creed to get home. Zach is on my hip as he’s still learning to walk. We set up rules when it came to the boys meeting Creed in the driveway, even though I know he’d never do anything to hurt them. That doesn’t mean accidents can’t happen.
“It’s taking forever,” Logan responds.
“Daddy, Momma?” Ethan questions. I nod my head. His teeth are in, but there are still gaps, especially between his two front teeth.
“Yeah, are you excited, baby?” The more I keep them entertained, the better off we’ll all be until Creed comes home. Heck, I may say hello to him and then run for the bathroom, lock the door, and take a hot bath in peace.
“So much, Momma,” he says in a lisp. Zach is wiggling to get down, so I stand up, rocking him a little bit while the breeze along the fans Creed and Rhett installed earlier this year cools us down. There was no way I wasn’t taking advantage of being outside as much as I could with our boys. But I sure as hell wasn’t doing it without a fan in case there wasn’t a breeze out.