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EPILOGUE

Holt

Babies are so small.

So small.

And my little guy—my William Caden Barnes Webster—is barely as big as a rugby ball.

And he’s absolutely perfect.

So is his mama, who’s sleeping in our bed on our first afternoon home from the hospital.

I should put him down.

Let him nap in the little bassinet we have next to the bed.

But I just can’t.

He looks nothing like you , I hear my brother say.

I snort softly and flip him off, mentally of course because I’m holding a baby, and silently tell him to go fug himself.

Doesn’t matter if William looks like me.

He’s my son. My chosen family.

Just like his beautiful mama .

She’s spread-eagle on our bed, taking up the entire king-size mattress.

I can sleep on my back again .

It was the first thing she said when we walked upstairs, and she followed it with an attack of the sobs, then flopped onto the mattress on her back, and she hasn’t moved since.

Really should put the baby down.

The Pounders have our first match tomorrow. I haven’t slept enough. Need to get my rest so I’m at my best to lead the team. All of my hard work in physical therapy paid off, and I’m fully back.

In top shape.

Ready to lead the team again.

But William won’t be this little for long.

He yawns, blinking open bright blue eyes, and my heart melts all over again.

“Hi,” I whisper to him.

He screws up his face and smacks his lips like he’s looking for lunch, his big blue eyes the only other thing moving in his tiny little swaddled body.

“I love you,” I add.

He smacks his lips again.

Fucking adorable, perfect little guy.

The hospital was a zoo.

Deedee was there nearly from the minute we told her William had been born until he and Ziggy were discharged this morning. Roland came by every couple hours. Miranda too. Just a couple of the guys on the team.

Not all of them.

They picked three representatives to come and take pictures and report back to everyone else.

And now we’re home .

My little family.

Jessica peeks in the door and gives me the stink eye.

That’s about the worst she does these days. No more snorting. No more blowing dog drool all over me.

She still gets Fletcher on occasion, which I approve of.

“Want to meet your brother?” I ask her.

She wasn’t interested earlier.

Dog still has a little hell-beast in her, and she’s never a fan of being home alone for hours on end.

Not that she was alone much.

Goldie and Fletcher took her to play with their dogs while we were at the hospital and dropped her off shortly after we got home.

Jessica inches into the room with more hesitation than I’ve ever seen in her, sniffing cautiously in our direction.

I squat on the floor, letting her step onto my thighs while she sniffs more.

“Yes, yes, he’s a boy,” I whisper. “You’re gonna have to tough it out a little more. He has a lot of Ziggy in him. You’ll love him.”

She snorts.

There’s no heat to it though.

She knows I’m right.

None of us can resist loving Ziggy, so none of us can resist loving Ziggy’s baby.

It’s a universal law.

“Is it a boy that Jessica likes?” Ziggy asks.

She shifts on the bed and rolls over to watch us.

Fucking rock star.

Labor and delivery make rugby matches look like a walk in the park.

“I think Jessica’s gonna cope,” I tell her .

She smiles, and my heart melts all over again.

Just like it does every time she smiles.

I didn’t want this.

Didn’t want a family. A partner. Kids. Pets.

But I’ve never been happier in my life.

“Is he awake?” Ziggy asks.

“Just woke up.”

He yawns, then stretches his tongue out like he’s still figuring out he has a tongue. His little face scrunches up, and then the wail comes.

Ziggy sits and reaches for him, so I scoot onto the bed next to her and hand him over.

“He’s so fuck—freaking perfect,” I murmur into her hair.

“And he’ll only get better,” she replies as she holds him to her breast and the little guy latches on. “Until he’s a teenager. Then we might hate him for a while. But after that, life will be great. Until he goes to college. And leaves us. And becomes an adult. And?—”

She cuts herself off as she starts to sniffle.

“And it’s going to be a long, long, long time before any of that happens,” I tell her.

“No, it won’t,” she sobs.

She’s not wrong.

But if we’ve both learned anything in the past year or so—some lessons together, some apart—it’s that we still have today.

And this today—this today is beautiful.

Just like she is.

“I love you,” I murmur into her hair.

“You’re my everything,” she whispers back. “Both of you. And the dog. All three of you. My everything. ”

And of everything I’ve ever done in my life, being her everything is…well, it’s my everything.

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