Epilogue Two #2
“Because you two are rich and I like getting paid to babysit the most precious girl in the world.”
Mila lets out a happy squeal and claps her hands together like she agrees with that statement.
Brooke reaches over and brushes a curl away from Mila’s forehead. “Where is this date happening?”
Elise immediately brightens. “Dinner and a movie.”
“With who?” I ask.
She hesitates just long enough to make my blood pressure spike.
“A guy.”
My jaw tightens.
“A guy,” I repeat slowly. “Very descriptive.”
Elise rolls her eyes so hard it is a miracle they stay in her skull.
“His name is Mateo. He works at the bookstore near campus. He reads actual books and listens to music that existed before TikTok. You would hate him.”
“I already do,” I reply.
Brooke nudges my shoulder. “Be nice.”
“I am being nice.”
“You threatened to lock her in a tower five minutes ago.”
“That was a reasonable suggestion.”
Elise throws her hands in the air.
“I’m leaving before he changes his mind and chains me to a radiator.”
She grabs her heels from the entry table and shoves her feet into them. Just before she reaches for the door, I glance toward the living room.
“Ryan.”
Ryan looks up from the couch immediately.
“You’re going with her.”
Elise freezes halfway through opening the door.
“Excuse me?” she says slowly.
Ryan blinks at me. “What?”
“You’re going with her,” I repeat. “You sit three seats away. You watch the guy. If he says something stupid, you let me know.”
Elise turns around fully now, staring at me like I just committed a war crime.
“That is insane.”
I ignore her and reach into the inside pocket of my jacket. I pull out a small folding knife and toss it toward Ryan.
He catches it.
Ryan looks down at the knife, then back up at me.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously,” I say.
Elise points at me. “You can't send a fifteen year old with a knife on my date.”
“He’s sixteen,” I correct calmly.
“That doesn't make it better.”
Ryan flips the knife open and closed once, testing the hinge.
“Honestly,” he says with a shrug, “I was bored anyway.”
Elise drags a hand down her face.
“This family is unbelievable.”
She reaches for the door again and yanks it open.
“If you embarrass me, I will throw you out of the moving car,” she tells Ryan.
Ryan stands and slips the knife into his pocket.
“I’ll sit far enough away that your boyfriend won’t notice me.”
“You’ve got two hours, Elise. Don’t make me send Beau after you.”
“That’s not funny,” Elise groans. “He’d actually enjoy it.”
She rushes over and kisses her niece’s cheek, grabs her purse. Ryan follows as they run out the door.
As the door shuts behind them, I let out a breath and bounce Mila gently against my shoulder.
Brooke exhales slowly beside me.
Mila pats my chest with both hands and babbles something that sounds suspiciously like a laugh.
I look down at her and shake my head.
“Your auntie is absolutely going to give me a heart attack one day.”
Brooke smiles.
“You say that now,” she says while leaning in to kiss Mila’s cheek. “Just wait until this one starts dating.”
I look down at my daughter.
Then I look back at Brooke.
“No,” I say firmly. “That is not happening.”
She gives me a look that says she isn’t even going to argue with me about that tonight.
Then she pushes away from the wall and stretches her arms over her head.
“Well,” she glances toward the kitchen. “I should probably get the popcorn and snacks ready for our movie night.”
“Good plan.”
She walks toward the kitchen, and for a moment I just stand there with Mila in my arms and watch her go.
Brooke moves through the house with a confidence she never used to have. The tension that used to live in her shoulders has eased over the years. She still carries the scars, the memories, the darkness that shaped both of us, but she carries it differently now.
She owns it.
She finished her master’s program last year. The degree hangs in her office even though the name printed on it is not the one she was born with. The paperwork might not tell the whole truth, but that doesn’t change the fact that she earned it.
She did the work.
Now she runs therapy groups twice a week for trauma survivors. People who have been hurt, broken, and left behind by the world sit in a circle with her and talk about the things most people refuse to say out loud.
They trust her. They listen to her.
And somehow, against every possible expectation, she helps them.
I watch her disappear into the kitchen and feel something settle deep in my chest.
For a long time, survival was the only goal either of us had.
Now we have something else.
A home.
A life.
A family.
I look down at Mila, who has managed to grab a fistful of my shirt and is currently trying to chew on the fabric with complete determination.
For the first time in my life, I'm not just surviving, I'm raising a family. Being a brother. Being a father. Being a husband.
Being a brother to them still feels strange some days. Ryan and Elise move through the house with the restless energy of teenagers who finally understand they are safe enough to push boundaries.
Ryan is still quiet by nature, but he looks people in the eye now. He makes jokes. He lets me teach him how to fight and how to carry himself in a room without shrinking from it.
Elise still talks to me as if I personally invented every problem in the world, but the truth shows up in the small moments she thinks no one notices.
She asks Brooke for advice now. She lets me teach her how to drive.
Sometimes I catch her slipping into Mila’s room late at night just to rock her back to sleep when she wakes up.
She loves it here.
Even if she pretends otherwise.
We didn’t grow up together. We didn’t even meet until three years ago. But somehow, we have made something out of the ashes.
Our chaos. Our house. Our family.
Brooke stands at the stove with her back to me, focused on the pot like the fate of the world depends on the popcorn not burning. Her hips shift slightly as she moves, her attention completely locked on the task in front of her.
Mila babbles in my arms while chewing on her fist, drool soaking into the front of my shirt without the slightest concern.
I walk up behind Brooke and slide an arm around her waist, pulling her gently back against my chest. The scent of coconut baby shampoo lingers in her hair.
“You’re definitely going to burn it,” I murmur near her ear while carefully handing Mila over to her with one hand.
Brooke lets out an annoyed breath. “That only happened once.”
“Three times.”
She elbows me in the ribs.
“Whatever.”
Footsteps echo from the hallway as Beau walks into the kitchen.
“All right, I’m about to head out,” he says while zipping up his jacket.
Brooke turns toward him, bouncing Mila lightly on her hip. “You don’t want to stay for movie night?”
He shakes his head. “Not tonight. I have some things to handle.”
Brooke raises a brow, “Normal things or assassin things?”
Beau shrugs, “A bit of both.”
He steps closer and presses a kiss against the top of Mila’s head.
“I still can’t believe you two gave my goddaughter that long ass name,” he muttered, grinning.
Brooke smiles. “Don’t hate on my baby’s name.”
Mila Samantha-Marie Sinclair.
We named her after the women who saved us. Mila, Brooke’s best friend. Samantha, my mother. Marie, Brooke’s mother.
The names sit together now, tied to something new instead of the loss they came from.
Brooke shifts Mila higher on her hip and glances at Beau. “Well, it’s still better than Beau.”
Beau lets out a laugh under his breath. “That’s not even my real name.”
Brooke freezes. Her head slowly turns between the two of us. “What?” Her eyes narrow. “Seth. Did you know about this?”
“Yeah,” I shrug. “With his family history and the line of work he does, I didn’t expect him to go around using his full government name.”
Brooke scoffs. “He’s our daughter’s godfather. I think I should know his real name.”
Beau shrugs like the entire conversation is mildly amusing. “Beau is my alias. That’s all you need.”
“Mila has the best godfather in the world,” I say calmly. “I trust him with my life. And with hers.”
“Bullshit.” Brooke shifts her weight and glares at him. “You’re my daughter’s godfather. I should know your full name.”
Beau just grins.
“That’s a story for another day, Sinclair.”
Brooke shakes her head like the two of us are equally ridiculous.
He reaches out and claps a heavy hand against my back.
“You did good, Seth.”
Then he gives Brooke one last wink before turning and walking out the door.
It still doesn’t feel real sometimes. That I have a daughter. A family. A future that doesn’t end in blood.
I dump the finished popcorn into the biggest bowl we have and shake the movie theater butter seasoning Brooke likes over the top.
“Travis said he and Naomi will be here in twenty minutes,” Brooke says while setting Mila gently into her bouncer next to the couch. She tucks a soft blanket around her and places a teether in her hand.
Mila grabs it immediately and starts gnawing on it with complete focus.
I follow her to the TV room. “What’s on the movie agenda?”
“Movies,” Brooke says with a little smirk. “We’re doing a Scream marathon.”
I shake my head and set the bowl on the coffee table. “Very on brand.”
Luna is already perched on the back of the couch like she owns the place, her tail wrapped neatly around her paws as she watches Krueger with mild judgment.
Krueger lies stretched out in front of the fireplace, his massive body blocking half the rug. His head lifts the moment Mila makes a noise, eyes tracking her every movement with the quiet intensity of a dog who has fully accepted his role as her personal security detail.
Brooke grabs two sodas from the kitchen while I dim the lights in the living room. When she comes back, we settle onto the couch the same way we do every Friday night.
She leans back into me, resting her head against my chest, and stretches one hand toward the bouncer to gently touch Mila’s tiny foot.
Our daughter wiggles in response, letting out a small burst of babbling while kicking her legs against the blanket.
I wrap my arms around Brooke and pull her closer, holding her against me while the steady rhythm of her breathing gradually settles into sync with mine.
Five years later and I’m still hopelessly in love with the girl I once stalked across a diner.
I was never the hero of this story. I knew that early.
I knew it the first time I chose violence because it felt easier than mercy, the first time I realized I could live with blood on my hands and still sleep at night.
I’m what people call a monster. A villain.
A killer. A man shaped by damage and consequence.
The monster in me never disappears. But now he has a home.
And her name is Brooke.
Brooke never tries to change me. She sees the same darkness in herself and doesn’t look away.
She doesn’t ask me to be better. She asks me to be honest. Somewhere between the bodies and the grief and the choices we couldn’t undo, we learn how to carry that darkness without letting it hollow us out.
We didn't become good people. We became each other’s reason to start living.
I choose her and she chooses me.
I press a kiss to the top of her head and lower my voice so only she can hear it.
“I love you to death.”
She tilts her head back to look at me, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.
“I love you too, even beyond that.”
Mila shifts in her bouncer and lets out a soft sound that draws Brooke’s attention immediately. Brooke leans down and picks her up, and I help settle her between us on the couch.
Mila rests her head against Brooke while one tiny hand grabs the front of my shirt.
The three of us sit tangled together in the kind of peace I never believed I’d earn.
Not until her.
Not until us.
And now?
Now I live for her.
THE END