Epilogue
. . .
Silas
Early August
I’d read more baby books than I could count and attended so many birthing classes with Vesper that we could run our own meeting at this point.
But no chapter—or human—could have prepared me for that moment when the midwife passed me my child.
Their tiny feet and fingers, the way they smelled like heaven. When Alfie first opened his blue eyes, I had to take a seat in the corner of the delivery room because this six-foot-five hockey player was seconds away from losing his balance.
Overwhelming doesn’t cover it.
The stress you feel as a man, watching the woman you love fight through the worst pain imaginable, is a new level of torture, and we aren’t even the ones giving birth. If I could’ve done it all for Vesper, then I’d have been on that bed in a heartbeat.
Not that she would’ve let me take over, even if it was a viable option. My girl is too fiercely stubborn for that.
“Are you ready to go home, Alfie?” I ask my seven-pound, three-ounce son as I rock him in my arms, praying he’ll stay calm for a few more minutes so his mommy can rest a while longer.
Yesterday was wild and frantic. Today, we hope to take him home to a serene environment, away from beeping machines and bright fluorescent lighting. Now I have the family I always wanted but never had, and I get to look after them forever.
“Your grandma would be so freaking proud of you,” I say, sliding my pointer finger into his tiny palm.
He gently closes his fingers around it, and I can’t help but stare at the mass of black hair peeking out the sides of his light-blue bonnet.
I knew he would end up with his mom’s eyes and hair, but I never expected him to be her image. He’s fucking perfect.
“Si?” Vesper’s soft groan steals my attention, and I look up to find her arranging the pillows behind her back.
“Wait, hang on,” I say, standing with Alfie and walking across the room to her bed.
I lower Alfie into his bassinet and go about plumping up Vesper’s pillows.
“Is this how it’s going to be?” she asks, her voice still hoarse from the birth yesterday. A fourteen-hour labor that ended in a forceps delivery and stitches.
My fucking heroine.
Reaching out, I slide the black strap that’s slipped down her shoulder back where it belongs.
“Is that even a question?” I reply, rounding the bed and coming to sit behind her.
She tips her chin over one shoulder, a question in her eyes when I pull the black scrunchie from her hair and loop it over my wrist.
“What are you doing?” she asks, collecting Alfie in her arms so she can feed him.
“Right now?” I sigh. “Trying not to be jealous.” I tip my chin at my son as she releases the clip on one of her straps and Alfie begins feeding.
Vesper tosses her head back, laughing, and I take advantage of the moment by setting a kiss against her forehead.
When she pulls her head up, I run my fingers through her hair. It grew so much while she was pregnant, and it’s really thick and shiny.
“Silas,” she says anxiously, “what are you doing?”
Pulling my phone from my jeans pocket, I unlock it and quickly research the best way to braid a girl’s hair.
Seems simple enough.
Picking up Vesper’s black brush from the side table next to me, I watch her shoulders relax when I begin combing.
“How did you know this was what I needed?” she asks.
I shrug even though she can’t see me, sectioning her hair into three parts.
“Because you’ve always taken care of yourself, and just because you’re a mommy now doesn’t mean all that has to change.
” I gather the hair covering her left ear into my hand and whisper into the shell, “But you’re going to need help managing everything, Ves, and I want you to let me be your extra pair of hands. We’re a team, remember?”
She switches Alfie from one breast to the next right as there’s a knock at the door, followed by Naomi’s voice.
“Can I come in?” she asks, cracking the door open an inch.
Vesper invites her sister in, and she takes a seat in the chair I was using earlier.
Naomi arrived a couple of days ago after I flew her into Seattle, so Vesper had at least one member of her blood family around for the birth.
It’s the first time I’ve met her sister, but if I’d seen her on the sidewalk before now, I’d never have put the two down as related. They look nothing alike. Naomi has red hair and brown eyes and is way taller than her sibling. She’s nice though, and that’s all anyone can ask of their family.
Unlike Vesper’s mom and dad, who both sent a Congratulations text message yesterday when they heard the news.
If my mom were here, she’d have been in her element with my new family, and that’s what pisses me off—shit things happen to good people, and she was taken way too early.
“You’re a freaking natural,” Naomi coos into the quiet room as Alfie finishes up feeding and Vesper clips her top back into place.
“And you …” She motions toward me as I begin braiding …
very fucking badly. “I was going to ask if you have a brother since I’m newly single, but we both know the answer to that question. ”
There was a time when even the slightest reference to Kane would cause every muscle in my fiancée’s body to tense. Now she simply waves Naomi’s comment away like it’s nothing.
He’s nothing.
Kane Giles was a chapter in both of our lives, and now we get to finish the story together.
As it was always meant to be. Since the day he was escorted by security out of Will and Drew’s wedding six months ago, we haven’t heard a thing from him.
The only updates we’ve received have been via the courts and my lawyers, confirming Kane’s eighteen-month prison sentence will be carried out in another state due to overcrowding in the penitentiaries here.
I can’t say I’m mad about it, nor was I sad to see his apartment up for rent when I drove past the other day out of curiosity.
If that prick has one brain cell remaining after Mason’s punch, he’ll stay away from Seattle for good, and something tells me that he will.
“My mom would be so damn proud of you,” I whisper against Vesper’s neck as I secure the end of her braid with a scrunchie and set it over her right shoulder.
Naomi has hearts in her eyes when Vesper half turns on the bed, and I take Alfie from her so she can head for the bathroom.
Don’t ask me why I know where she’s going—I just do.
Grabbing a white rag from Alfie’s diaper bag at the end of Vesper’s bed, I throw it over one shoulder and begin burping him.
Naomi pulls her phone from her jacket pocket.
“I just got a message from Drew.” She smiles brightly and I can’t help but feel happy that Vesper’s sister is making friends too. “She’s asking if now’s a good time to come and meet Alfie.”
“Sure!” Vesper’s voice filters through the door.
I chuckle. Apparently, pregnancy gives women radar hearing too.
Three minutes later, my alternate captain has taken over burping my son while Vesper, Drew, June, Marley, and Naomi all discuss middle names for Alfie.
“You look like a bulldog with a stick up its ass,” I say to Tristan as he chews on a piece of gum, arms folded tightly across his chest.
He huffs out a breath through his nose. To an onlooker who doesn’t know him, my teammate comes across as the biggest jackass. But despite his shitty moods lately, I know he has a good heart. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t care about me, Vesper, and Alfie.
“Do you think the Rogues will drop me to the farm team before the preseason?”
His question catches me completely off guard as I smile proudly at Vesper, who is showing the girls her ring for the hundredth time.
“I don’t think one bad season will fuck up your career, man. You’re going through a rough patch right now, but it’ll come right.”
Tristan’s eyes flick to Will as he continues burping Alfie.
I give it two years, and Drew will be pregnant.
His attention then falls to June, who is still talking to Vesper about potential middle names.
“It feels like everyone in this room has their shit sorted, you know?” He slides his hands into his pockets and blows into his cheeks.
“Take your girl, for example. She just had a baby after signing a contract to collaborate on book designs with that hotshot artist you met in Italy. Her work will literally be across stores in a few months.”
He doesn’t sound bitter toward Vesper’s success, but I am starting to worry that Tristan’s spiraling.
I nudge an elbow in his ribs, and he unfolds his arms.
“You need to stay positive. Coach hasn’t said anything to me recently about your position being at risk. And I heard things are going well for you with First Line PR.”
He narrows his eyes on Drew, his new publicist. “I resent working with the Jones family.”
I roll mine at him. “Are you seriously still beefing with Will? I thought you guys had moved past your differences.”
Tristan shakes his head. “I’m not beefing with him anymore, but he is the reason why things have gone to shit for me on the ice.”
“I don’t agree,” I immediately counter. “Having a talent like Will should improve your game, not hinder it.” I tap my temple once. “You know better than anyone that hockey is as much a psychological game as it is a physical one.”
He doesn’t argue, instead gazing around the room.
“Where’s Mason?” I ask, turning back to the bed and picking up my cell. “He said that he’d be here today.”
Tristan scrubs a palm over his mouth. “Oh yeah, he told me to pass on a message that he had a change in plans and he’ll be out of town for a few days.”
I raise an unimpressed brow. “If I hadn’t asked after your teammate, did you plan on telling me where he was?”
He doesn’t answer, and I begin scrolling through my last messages with Mason, all of them about Alfie and me trying to find out how he’s doing.
Apart from a weekend in Banff last month where we all got together, he’s gone pretty dark on us all this offseason.
And if I hadn’t been supporting Vesper through the pregnancy, then I would’ve shown up at his place randomly one day.
On reflection, I should’ve done exactly that. His aloof behavior has been worrying me.
“I’ll be right back,” I say to everyone as I step outside the room, close the door, and dial Mason’s number.
By the time I reach the end of the hallway, he still hasn’t answered, and his voicemail kicks in.
I hit End and start typing out a message right as Mason’s call comes through.
“Hey,” I say, heading down a flight of stairs toward a small break room, which is usually quiet.
“Hey.” Mason sounds like he’s rushing around when I shut the break room door behind me, thankful it’s completely empty.
I walk over to the window. It’s bright sunshine here in downtown Seattle, the perfect day to take your baby home for the first time.
“What’s going on, Mason?” I decide to cut to the chase.
He stops whatever he’s doing in the background before I hear a zipper and then another.
“I’m really sorry I couldn’t be there today, but something came up, and I asked Tristan to pass on a message.”
“I know, and that’s okay.” I swipe a palm across the back of my neck. Stressed. “Tris told me that you’d be out of town for a time. What the fuck is going on?” I repeat.
I hear a door close and then my teammate’s voice as he asks someone to call him a taxi.
“Mason,” I snap, although I don’t mean to.
He clears his throat, a tremble in his words. “She’s getting married. To that guy she’s been pictured with on social media.”
When I finally process Mason’s words, I’m sitting on a black leather couch. My head is spinning, so I can only imagine how fucked up his must be.
“Getting married?” I whisper, still struggling to grasp what I’m hearing. “The divorce only finalized a couple of months ago.”
A dark laugh filters down the line. “When I saw the engagement pictures posted to her socials and called her mom, she said he proposed shortly after they started dating, and Eloise initially turned him down, saying she needed time to think about what she truly wanted. He wore her down, Si.” Mason’s last sentence sounds desperate.
In a matter of seconds, I connect the dots.
The zipper.
The taxi.
Going out of town for a few days.
“You’re chasing after her, aren’t you?” I say, pride evident in my voice.
Traffic noise fills my ear as Mason heads outside, confirms the airport as his destination, and a car door shuts.
“I can’t get her out of my mind, man. I have to try.”
I hang my head, knowing he’s doing the right thing, but fearful that this won’t work out for my friend and Eloise’s rejection will only set him back mentally.
“When’s the wedding?”
“Tomorrow.”
My head shoots up, and I almost drop the phone. “Tomorrow?” I check my watch. “What time does your flight leave?”
Another dark chuckle. “I’m catching a last-minute red-eye to Brest Bretagne Airport with a stopover in Paris. I’ll arrive midday.”
Fuck me.
“What time is the wedding?” I cringe.
Mason doesn’t answer.
“What time is she getting married, Mase?” I demand, now panicking on his behalf.
“Two p.m.”
I hold up a hand even though I’m alone. “Wait a motherfucking second. You’re going to fly through the night, run across northern France, show up at the wedding with likely minutes to spare, and lay it all out for your ex-wife?”
“Crazy behavior, right?”
Perhaps I’m a bundle of love because of my new son, but I can’t help smiling down the phone. “I love this for you, man, even if it is fucking madness.”
“I love her, and I have to know if she still loves me too.”
The break room door opens, and Vesper steps inside, pointing at my phone in question.
I mouth, Mason, to her and then stand, pulling her into my arms.
She smells like my favorite kind of scent—home.
“All right, well, I gotta go because getting through the airport and onto this plane is going to be tight.”
Vesper rests her chin on my sternum, gazing up at me with tired eyes. Yeah, she needs to be in our bed tonight.
“Okay, keep me updated.”
I end the call and take the end of her braid between my fingers.
“He’s going after Eloise, isn’t he?” she whispers against my shirt.
“How did you guess?”
She nuzzles into me, and my heart expands in my chest.
“Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned about you Rogue boys, nothing—and no one—will stop you from getting what you want.”
Thank you for reading Code Violation.