Extended Epilogue
HALLIE
The house is a storm of laughter and shrieks, the kind of chaos that used to make my chest tighten with stress. Now, it just makes me smile.
Luna, our oldest at four, is the ringleader, her midnight-black curls bouncing as she sprints across the grass, her tiny hands clutching a plastic sword. "You can't catch me, Daddy!" she taunts, her voice high and bright.
Heath doesn't even try to hide his grin. At six-six, he's built like a man who could bench-press a truck, but right now, he's on his hands and knees, crawling after her like a bear on the hunt. "Oh, I'm gonna get you, little warrior," he rumbles, his voice rough with amusement.
Mark, our three-year-old tornado, barrels into Heath's side with a battle cry, sending them both tumbling into the grass. Timothy, barely two, claps his chubby hands and toddles after them, his giggles turning into a full-blown squeal when Heath scoops him up and flips him onto his back.
Alice, our baby at six months, is strapped to my chest in a carrier, her wide sage green eyes tracking the madness with quiet fascination.
I adjust the strap, my fingers brushing the familiar weight of her. She's the quietest of the bunch, content to watch, to soak it all in.
Heath glances up, his steel blue eyes locking onto mine. The corner of his mouth twitches. "You just gonna stand there, or you gonna help me wrangle these monsters?"
I laugh, shaking my head. "And ruin your fun? Never."
He mock-growls, rolling onto his back and letting the kids pile onto him like a jungle gym. Luna straddles his chest, her little hands gripping his beard. "Daddy, you're squishy!"
Heath barks out a laugh, his hands wrapping around her waist to tickle her. "Squishy? I'll show you squishy?—"
I sink onto the grass beside them, Alice cooing as she reaches for me. Her tiny fingers curl around my thumb, and I press a kiss to her knuckles. The sun is warm on my skin, the scent of cut grass wrapping around me like a second skin.
Five years. Five years of this.
The kids are a whirlwind, but Heath? He's the anchor.
The one who gets down on the floor and lets them climb all over him.
The one who reads them stories with voices that make them giggle, who builds forts out of blankets and chairs, who lets them "help" him cook even when it means flour everywhere.
I never knew love could be this big.
Luna flops onto her back beside me, her chest heaving. "Mama, I'm tired."
I brush a sweaty curl from her forehead. "You think Daddy's done being a jungle gym?"
She grins, her missing front tooth making her look even more like a little pirate. "Nope. He's squishy."
I laugh, and Heath's gaze snaps to me, his expression softening. He disentangles himself from the boys—who immediately start wrestling again—and crawls over to us, his weight making the grass dip beneath him. His hand finds my knee, his thumb tracing slow circles.
"You good?" he murmurs, low enough that the kids won't hear.
I nod, my throat tight. "Better than good."
His fingers tighten, just for a second. Then he's leaning in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "You're thinking too loud, sweetheart."
I shiver, despite the warmth of the sun. "Just happy."
He hums, his breath hot against my skin. "Yeah. Me too."
Alice lets out a happy squeak, her tiny hands patting my chest. I glance down, and of course I'm leaking. Wet spots bloom on my shirt, right over my nipples.
Heath's eyes darken.
I roll my eyes, but my pulse kicks up anyway. "Not your turn."
He grins, unrepentant. "What? I'm hungry."
It's been five years of this. Of Heath's hands on my waist in the middle of the night, his mouth hot against my neck as he murmurs how much he needs me.
Of his voice rough with sleep when he wakes me with his tongue between my thighs, his beard scraping against my inner thighs.
Of the way he still looks at me like I'm the only woman in the world, even when I'm covered in spit-up and exhaustion.
He reaches for me, but I don't stop him when he takes the carrier, his fingers brushing against my skin as he removes it. He hands me Alice, who latches on with a contented sigh, her tiny mouth working.
He smirks. "It's my turn after."
The bathroom mirror fogs with my breath as I wipe the steam away, my reflection wavering in the damp glass. The overhead light catches the silver streaks in my hair, barely there, but enough to make me pause.
My fingers trace the faint lines around my eyes, the softness of my stomach where four babies stretched me.
I turn sideways, studying the way my hips flare now, the way my breasts sit heavier, fuller, even when they're not leaking.
A sigh slips out before I can stop it.
The door creaks open behind me, and Heath's reflection appears over my shoulder, his steel blue eyes locking onto mine in the mirror. His hands find my waist, warm and sure, pulling me back against him. His beard scrapes against my temple as he presses a kiss there.
"What are you doing?" he murmurs. "How can you keep this view all to yourself?"
I swallow, my fingers tightening around the edge of the sink. "View? Don't you think I look different? How can you still be attracted to?—"
His grip tightens, turning me to face him. His calloused hands cup my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones. "Don't."
I bite my lip. "Don't what?"
"Don't finish that sentence." His voice is low, rough. "You're still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Every stretch mark, every scar, every fucking ounce of you is mine. And I wouldn't change a single goddamn thing."
My breath hitches. His thumbs press harder, tilting my face up.
"You gave me a family, Hallie. You gave me them.
You think I don't wake up every morning grateful that you're the one beside me?
That you're the one carrying my children, feeding them from your body, loving them like they're the only thing that matters in this world? "
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "I just?—"
"Shh." His mouth crashes onto mine, swallowing whatever protest I was about to make. His tongue sweeps in, possessive, hungry, and I melt against him, my hands fisting in his shirt.
He groans against my lips, his hands sliding down to grip my ass, pulling me flush against him. I can feel him, hard and thick against my stomach, and my body responds instantly, heat pooling between my thighs.
He breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against mine. "You're everything," he growls. "And if you ever doubt that again, I'll just have to remind you."
Before I can respond, his hands slide up, cupping my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples.
They're already hard, aching, and I know he can feel the wetness seeping from them.
He groans, his mouth closing over one nipple, sucking hard.
The pull sends a jolt straight to my clit, and I gasp, my hips jerking forward.
He swallows, his throat working as he drinks from me, his hands kneading my breasts, squeezing out every last drop. My knees weaken, and I grip the sink behind me for support, my head falling back as pleasure coils tight in my stomach.
"Fuck, you taste so good," he growls, pulling back just enough to speak. His fingers replace his mouth, pinching and rolling my nipple, sending another wave of pleasure through me. "So fucking sweet. My perfect wife."
I whimper at the words, my body trembling. He knows exactly what to say to make me melt, to make me need him. His mouth moves to my other breast, sucking hard, his tongue swirling around my nipple before pulling back to let the milk flow freely into his mouth.
I'm panting now, my body on fire, my pussy throbbing with need. "Heath, please?—"
He pulls back, his lips glistening, his eyes dark with hunger. "Please what, sweetheart?"
I bite my lip, my cheeks flushing. "I need you."
He smirks, his hands sliding down to grip my ass again. "You have me. Always."
He drops to his knees in front of me, his hands sliding up my thighs. His fingers hook into the waistband of my panties, dragging them down my legs. I step out of them, my heart pounding, my breath coming in shallow gasps.
His hands grip my hips, pulling me forward until my pussy is level with his mouth. "Ready?" he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin. His tongue darts out, tracing a slow line up my slit, and I whimper, my fingers tangling in his hair.
Then he stands, lifting me effortlessly and carrying me to the bed. He lays me down gently, his body covering mine, his mouth crashing onto mine again. I can taste myself on his lips, sweet and earthy, and it sends another jolt of desire through me.
His hands slide between us, his fingers finding my clit, circling it slowly. I moan into his mouth, my hips bucking up against his hand. He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down my neck, his teeth grazing my skin.
"Fuck," he murmurs, his fingers sliding lower, teasing my entrance. "So wet for me. So ready."
I whimper, my body trembling as he pushes two fingers inside me, curling them just right. My back arches off the bed, my hands gripping the sheets. "Heath…"
"Shh," he whispers, his thumb pressing down on my clit. "Just let me take care of you."
His mouth finds my breast again, sucking hard, his fingers working me over until I'm a trembling mess beneath him. My orgasm builds quickly, my body coiling tight, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
"Come for me," he growls against my skin. "Let me feel you."
And I do. My body shatters, my pussy clenching around his fingers as pleasure crashes over me. He groans, his mouth still on my breast, drinking me down as I come apart beneath him.
When the waves finally subside, I'm left boneless, my body heavy with exhaustion. My eyelids flutter, my breath slowing.
Heath pulls back, his lips glistening, his eyes soft. "Sleep, sweetheart," he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "I've got you."
I want to protest, to tell him I'm not tired, but my body betrays me. My eyes drift shut, my limbs growing heavier by the second.
His hands are gentle as he pulls the covers over me, his lips pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. "Goodnight, Hallie."
I murmur something unintelligible, my mind already drifting. The last thing I feel is the bed dipping beside me, his arms wrapping around me, holding me close.
And then, nothing.