Page 33 of Shielding his Legacy (Shattered SEALs #7)
The light was golden on the Esopus, the water rushing loud and steady as it wound through the forest at the edge of Gavin’s property. Eva stood ankle-deep in last autumn’s leaves, her camera clicking quietly as she captured their life one frame at a time.
A pink hat tossed on a tree stump. Abby’s toy giraffe leaning drunkenly on a rock.
The stone porch where Gavin drank his coffee every morning, bare-chested and half-asleep.
Her life. Their life. She smiled and lowered the camera, her hand resting on her enormous pregnant belly.
She would swear she wasn’t this big with Abby until the very end.
She and Gavin had taken that trip to Phoenix and Zion, making enough headway with her parents that she now spoke to her mom on the phone with some regularity.
Her father was a tougher egg to crack, but they were speaking, and she hadn’t given up on further improvement in their relationship down the line.
Back at the house, she stepped inside to find Gavin’s mom dancing—full-on twirling—in front of the TV while Dancing with the Stars blasted a cha-cha beat into the living room.
Abby was parked in the middle of the floor like a benevolent queen, surrounded by teethers and foam blocks, cruising from couch to coffee table like a champ.
“Don’t mind us,” his mother said, breathless with joy. “We’re just working on our paso doble.”
Eva laughed. “You two are adorable.” She headed to the kitchen. People would be arriving soon, and she had plenty of things to do before then.
Moving to the fridge, she took out fresh vegetables and began cutting them on a butcher block board before a stork-shaped cake made out of two dozen cupcakes. The cake color would reveal the gender of the baby she carried.
She’d almost gotten through slicing carrots when Gavin appeared in the doorway. She smiled wide, pleasure at seeing him never waning in the time they’d been together. “Let me do that,” he said. “No reason for you to be on your feet.”
“I feel fine but thank you.” He moved behind her to massage her shoulders, and she stopped cutting so she could better enjoy the sensation. She moaned with satisfaction. “Oh, my God, that feels so good. Don’t ever stop.”
“Endless backrubs should have been part of our marriage vows.”
She grinned at the memory. They’d gone to Phoenix first, visiting her parents and his friend’s grave before making the seven-hour drive to Zion. While she didn’t know it at the time, Phoenix had been about closing the door on old chapters of their lives. Zion was about writing a new book entirely.
They’d hiked to the middle Emerald Pool, Abby in a metal-framed carrier on Gavin’s back.
It was a gorgeous day a crisp morning turning to a sun kissed afternoon, the red rock views crystal clear and mesmerizingly beautiful.
She’d stood at the safety chain and drank it all up, a cup from which she’d never become truly full.
He took her hand, and she squeezed it. “Do you know how much I love you?” he asked.
“About as much as I love you.” She leaned into his shoulder and kissed it, the moment stretching languidly. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
“I didn’t bring you here just for the view.”
Eva blinked, turning to face him. “Oh, no?”
“No.” Time slowed as he dropped to one knee.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
“Eva Livingston, you’re the most impossible, infuriating, perfect woman I’ve ever met.
You gave me a daughter.” His eyes were suspiciously glassy, and she loved him for every drop of who he was, and the man he would someday be.
“You gave me a reason to breathe again. I want the rest of my life to be mornings in the mountains and babies underfoot and you telling me I’m an idiot. ”
She let out a laugh that broke on a sob.
“I want you. Forever. Will you marry me?”
She was already nodding, already crying, already dropping to her knees beside him. “Yes. Yes. Of course, yes.”
They’d had a small ceremony on his property just a few weeks after she’d learned she was pregnant for the second time.
His hands moved lower, and he wrapped his arms around her middle, nuzzling her neck. She giggled. “No way, mister. Twenty people are coming for a baby shower in forty-five minutes.”
“I only need three,” he said quietly in her ear.
She swatted at his arms, and he released her with a sigh, but his stare lingered on her long after he’d let her go. She glanced in his direction with a knowing grin. “Go put the chairs out on the lawn.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He passed his mom dancing with Abby, her happiness filling the room with a tangible peace he never thought he’d experience in his own house.
Making his way out to the shed, he took in the tiny house his mom had purchased and had moved to the property—another thing he never thought would come to pass, that he wouldn’t give up for the world.
He’d just gotten the last of the chairs setup when Champion and Grace arrived with the twins, who were the spitting image of their dad—hellion gleam in their eye, and all. The boys immediately took off running for the creek, Champion running defense.
“Looks like fun,” called Gavin after his friend.
Grace gave him a knowing smirk. “You’ll get your turn.”
Two hours later, his quiet mountain escape was swarming with children high on lemonade and bubble wands, and Gavin was manning the grill in a “Kiss the Cook” apron his wife made him wear—because apparently dignity was optional when married to Eva Livingston-DeGrey.
Sloan walked up, holding a sweating beer bottle and shaking his head. “Hard to believe you bought this place so you could be a hermit, and now your wife’s turned it into a goddamn social club.”
Gavin flipped a burger and grunted. “She and Grace made a standing playdate with their twins.”
“She invited Lucas and April and me to go rafting with you on the Esopus this summer.”
“I’m already signed up for swim lessons with Abby. I don’t know how that happened.”
Sloan grinned. “You got married, man. That’s how.”
Eva was across the lawn with her camera, squatting low to get eye-level with two kids who were supposed to be smiling but were currently engaged in a high-stakes popsicle duel.
Abby toddled after her, dragging the stitched-up, shot-up doll that had survived the attack on Marina. The good therapist had given it to Abby on her first birthday, and while it looked like it had been through three wars and a kitchen fire, Abby adored it.
“Daddy!” Abby squealed, waving.
He waved back, smiling like an idiot. “Hi, Sweetie.”
Gavin’s mom joined him at the grill. “I’ve been thinking,” she said. “Why can’t we just knock out one wall of my house and add a guest room for grandkid sleepovers?”
“An addition,” Sloan deadpanned. “On the tiny house.”
Gavin smirked. “At some point it becomes a regular house, right?”
“Not if she keeps calling it tiny,” Sloan said. “Then it’s just ironic.”
Eva strolled over, lifting her camera. “Everyone in front of the grill! I want a shot of Gavin playing suburban dad. Bonus points if someone dumps ketchup on him.”
“Touch me with that bottle,” Gavin warned Sloan, “and I swear you’ll be eating your burger through a straw.”
Eva raised her eyebrows. “Is that a threat, husband?”
He set down the spatula and pulled her close, kissing the tip of her nose. “You saying I can’t follow through?”
“You saying you’re not afraid of condiments?”
He laughed while Eva posed the group—Sloan, Champion, Razorback, Cleats, Marina—they were all there.
He looked around—at the chaos, the noise, the laughter, the kids chasing dogs, and dogs chasing burgers—and thought: This is what survival looks like.
Not just breathing but living. Not just coming back from the dark—but building something in the light.
Abby handed him her damaged dolly. “Up,” the little girl demanded, and he happily complied, and unexpected knot of emotion getting stuck in his threat as he kissed her cheek and smiled for the camera.
He was the luckiest man alive.