Epilogue
Wren
Three Years Later
Ophelia was giggling like crazy as the bunnies hopped around her, her little hand stroking each one when they got close enough. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes dancing with excitement.
She truly was a farm kid, from her dirty overalls, which usually had rocks in the pockets or a stray frog, to the dirt forever coating her shoes and pants, to that carefree attitude and longing for adventure that had us all chasing after her non-stop.
She had all four of her daddies wrapped around her little fingers, one pleading look from those wide, blue eyes that matched my own, and they melted for her.
Honestly, Devon was her co-conspirator most of the time.
His strong arm slipped around me, curling under the baby bump I was now sporting, lifting it slightly as I sagged against him, relieved of the burden for a moment.
“These boys look heavier and heavier every day. How you holding up, sweetheart?” Nash asked.
“I don’t know. Whoever convinced me to become mates with a triplet deserves to be throat-punched,” I joked.
Honestly, we were thrilled, but having three triplet boys was going to be insane. I also told my mates that I was absolutely done having babies after this pregnancy. I swear, my stomach had me feeling like I was going to tip forward every time I moved. I’d been waddling for the last several months already, and we were still a good month away from delivery, though the doctor hoped for a little bit longer.
Mama Whitaker warned me that these Whitaker kids were the impatient type.
We built onto the farmhouse over a year ago because we all knew we wanted more kids. Thank god we prepped ahead and made several rooms.
Braxton’s siblings still came by from time to time, though Trinity had moved out. At least life had changed for them once their Grandma arrived. We were all shocked when she kicked Braxton’s parents out of the house because she and her other son owned it.
They gave them thirty days, so they were doing it by the law, but of course, they fled like the cowards they were. She also happily shut off their connection to the trust fund.
It was only a matter of time before they came slinking back to try to get in her good graces, but I had a feeling this fiery old woman wasn’t going to have it.
Trinity actually ended up having a penchant for design just like Devon did, and she joined Devon’s Dates to help him run it. He was happy for the help, especially when we had triplets on the way, which meant his business didn’t have to go on hold for months at a time.
We built him an amazing workshop out on Whitaker Ranch. The large barn-like building housed all of the supplies he needed, plus a commercial kitchen that he could safely use to prepare everything. It rested on the edge of the woods, giving them perfect date locations when people wanted them, and photo shoots with Shepherd still offered from time to time, though Devon had several employees, so he didn’t overwhelm our surly alpha.
The latest attractions to Devon’s dates were the rope bridges and nests they built in the trees. It started on the ground and then looped around the trees, bridges that wove between them, and then large nests where the packs could lay and relax. Adding it had exploded his social media following, almost tripling it.
Avery had worked with him, and now his business was more successful than any of us could have ever imagined. To think he’d been so unsure, doubting if people would care about charcuterie and setting up romantic dates, but it seemed people loved that idea.
The skeptical part of my brain always waited for the other shoe to drop, but then my Omega quickly squashed it, reminding me that I deserved everything that I had, that we’d worked hard, suffered, and fought our way here.
Now was our chance to sit back and enjoy it, living our best lives in Rockwood Valley, sharing in that magic that had truly changed us.
Life couldn’t be better.
The End