Page 66

Rocket

T he couch is too small for all three of us, but no one seems to care.

Willow’s legs are draped across mine, and Poppy is curled between us like the perfect little wedge she is. Her hair smells like strawberries, and her frilly pink pajamas are halfway tucked into the throw blanket she insisted on sharing with both of us.

I’m holding her juice box while she tells me, very seriously, about something that happened to her bunny. The words are intermittent, connected by Poppy pointing to things to explain the words she’s not saying. From afar it might look disjointed and frenzied, but to me it says she’s okay now.

We all are.

In fact, never been fucking better.

Willow smiles over the top of Poppy’s head, her fingers brushing my arm in that absentminded way that makes me feel like I’ve been hers forever.

If this is what normal feels like, I want it for the rest of my life .

Then my cell rings. I hold up my finger when I see it’s Sandra, and the room stills.

Willow and I look at it and draw in a collective deep breath before I swipe the call and put her on speaker.

“Sandra. It’s Rocket and Willow.”

My pulse kicks into overdrive. Poppy pokes my cheek likewhat’s happening, but I can’t tear my gaze away from her name on my phone as I wait for her to tell me the judge’s decision.

“Hi, Willow. Rocket.” Sandra’s voice is calm but clipped, giving me no indication of what she’s about to say.

“You’re killing me here,” I say.

Sandra exhales. “The judge filed the ruling this morning. I just got the call from the clerk’s office.”

My chest caves in on itself. Too many words.

She’s stalling.

We lost.

I grip Willow’s knee without realizing it.

“You’ve been granted full custody, Rocket.”

The room goes silent...like no one knows how to breathe. Poppy stares up at me with wide eyes, clearly sensing the change in energy in the room.

Willow covers her mouth and makes a choked sound that’s halfway between a laugh and a sob.

I blink. Swallow. Then blink again.

“I got her? She’s mine? Ours? She’s ... ours ?”

“You got her,” Sandra says. “She’s yours. It’s done, Rocket.”

I laugh. Then I break. Tears come hot and fast, and I don’t care who sees them. I bury my face in Poppy’s hair and wrap my arms around her like I’ll never let go.

Willow leans in, kissing the side of my head, her hands cupping the back of my neck.

“You did it,” she whispers. “Rocket, you did it.”

Behind us, the front door swings open.

Hawkin’s voice rings out. “What did we miss? Willow said a big call was coming and to round the troops.” He holds out his arms to the whole lot of them. “So I rounded up the troops. Did we win or what?”

The guys tumble in—Gizmo, Vince, Hendrix, Quinlan, Bristol—my brothers, their wives, and their kids too .

“Yes. We won,” Willow says. “Rocket has custody.”

The room erupts. Gizmo hoots. Vince fist-pumps. Hendrix hugs Willow so hard I have to pull her off her to breathe again.

Bristol lifts Poppy in the air and spins her like she’s the center of the whole damn universe, which, for us, she is.

“All right, all right,” I say, wiping my face and pretending I haven’t cried like a baby. “Time to celebrate.”

“Popsicles for the kids. And some drinks for the adults,” Willow says.

We pass around drinks, and then someone turns on music.

The band is sprawled across my living room like they always belonged here.

Willow disappears for a second and returns with a tray of snacks, and I swear I’ve never loved anyone more in my life than I do watching her pass out tiny bowls of pretzels.

She’s looking after my people ... because they’re her people now .

Fuck, I love this woman. Funny how my interpretation of sexy has changed.

Eventually, the conversation turns to how wild it’s all been—the trial, the press, the public disparagement.

“By the way,” Willow says. “A podcast calledStrong Voiceswants me to come on for an interview.”

“About me?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

“About advocacy. About this journey I’ve been on. About fighting for what’s right and how easily people believe what’s posted online without checking facts. About public perception and private truth.”

“You gonna do it?”

She lifts one shoulder. “Maybe. I think it’s time people heard my voice and how this all affected me. How keyboard warriors, with their malicious and merciless vitriol printed from behind their screens, can cause genuine pain for others. It’s so wrong.”

I grin and kiss her cheek. “Look at you. Master’s student—”

“Soon-to-be,” she corrects.

“Speaker. Influencer. Advocate.”

“Careful,” she says. “I could start charging appearance fees.”

The guys laugh, and I lean back, arm slung across the back of the couch.

“You know,” I say, eyes still on Willow, “it’s funny how fast the headlines change when you stop giving a shit about them.”

Vince raises his beer. “To not giving a shit.”

“Cheers,” I say. “To finding something better to live for.”

Eventually, everyone winds down. Poppy crashes first, curled up on the couch, head in Willow’s lap, one hand still clinging to my sleeve like she’s afraid I’ll vanish. It takes us some finagling to get her into her bed without waking her.

“Thank you,” I whisper to the guys and their wives when we return. “For everything.”

“Anytime, brother,” Hawkin says, and then he and Quinlan lean in for quick hugs.

“You know we’ve got your back,” Gizmo says, kissing Willow’s cheek and then punching me playfully in the arm.

“And we’re always here. Even when you annoy the fuck out of us,” Vince says and laughs, cuffing my shoulder and then pulling in Willow for a hug.

“Same goes here,” I say as I hug Hendrix goodbye.

And within seconds, they’re gone.

The house settles.

The silence is different now—it’s . . . not empty. Just full.

Willow closes the door behind them and turns to me, leaning against it with a slow smile.

I step toward her.

She tilts her head, eyes soft. “You okay?”

“No,” I say honestly. “I’m wrecked. I’m elated. I’m every damn thing I didn’t know how to want.”

I cup her cheek, stroke my thumb over her jaw.

“We’re her home now,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

I nod.

“And you’re mine.”

Her breath catches. I dip my head, brush my lips across hers, slow and steady.

“Let me show you how I love you,” I murmur.

“I’m not saying no to that.”

She kisses me again to show she means it. Like we both already know that isn’t the end.

It’s the beginning.