Page 124 of Mended Fences

Two years ago, my idea of grocery shopping was grabbing gas station jerky and a bag of Cheetos. Maybe a Red Bull if I was feelin’ fancy.

Now I was out here buyingranunculus.

Personal growth via parenthood. Who knew?

Luci blinked up at me from the floor, her tiny limbs flailing on the playmat like she was doing interpretive dance to invisible music.

“Don’t worry,” I told her. “You’re still allowed to love trash snacks. But you’re also gonna know what triple-cream brie tastes like before kindergarten, because your dad has taste now.”

She gurgled in agreement. Probably. It might’ve been a poop.

I sat cross-legged beside her on the rug, her little hand curling around my finger, anchoring me to this exact second in time.

And god, if I could’ve frozen this moment, I would’ve. Not because it was perfect, but because it wasours. Messy, mundane, absolutely magic.

The front door creaked open.

Elena.

I turned just in time to see her step inside, ponytail askew, badge lanyard shoved in her pocket, dark circles under her eyes—and still the most beautiful fucking thing I’d ever seen.

She spotted us on the floor, flowers on the counter, baby on the mat, and her mouth quirked up in that tired, familiar smile that made my whole damn heart do backflips.

“We survived,” I said. “I didn’t cry. She did. Twice. Maybe three times. I bought bread with seeds on it.”

“You’re basically a domestic god,” she murmured, kicking off her shoes and crossing the room toward us.

Elena sank down beside me, pressed a kiss to Luci’s cheek, then one to my mouth.

“Thanks for holding it down.”

I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and exhaled slow. “This… this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

For the first time in my entire life, I didn’t feel like I was chasing something I’d never catch. I didn’t feel behind. Or wrong. Or broken.

I felt... enough.

Chapter Forty-Six

ELENA

Now, May 2025

Lucía’s eyelashesfluttered against her cheeks, her breath soft and shallow in the dim light of the nursery. She was tucked into the crook of my arm, warm and milky-sweet, the room around us quiet except for the faint hum of the white noise machine.

I swayed gently by the crib, the motion more for me than her. This was the first time I’d done the bedtime routine after my shift, and I was clinging to every second like it could make up for the hours I’d missed.

“You were so good today,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to her fuzzy head. “Daddy said you picked the flowers. That true?”

She made a tiny sigh, her lips puckering like she had opinions about florals.

I smiled.

Then my phone buzzed.

Ialmost ignored it. I’d just turned the screen over so it wouldn’t glow against the wall, but the alert popped up in bold, unmistakable text:

Ring Alert: There is a Person at your Backyard Camera.