Epilogue
Lila
I stared down at the pregnancy test in my hand.
Positive.
I stared at the other four.
Positive.
Then I felt a smile split my cheeks.
I hid the tests, then headed to the kitchen and started dinner.
But first, I had five shirts made. Then I had them rushed.
Logan stood on the step stool beside me as we cooked dinner.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
I looked down at him and smiled, “Logan, I knew the moment I met you that you were something special. And I knew then that I loved you.”
The call Bronson had gotten from his lawyer... it was to say that Logan was in the hospital.
It was a long road to recovery, but we got him there.
As a family.
Logan had a broken arm, a ruptured spleen, and three broken ribs, all from the beating his father had given him.
But it was nothing to the tube that his father was now breathing through after Bronson took care of the asshole.
They tried to press charges, but there was no evidence.
I smiled.
Just then, my other babies came into the kitchen.
“Hey, little bro,” Cole jeered as he high-fived Logan.
Madalyn came in then and kissed his cheek, “Missed you.”
Then they made their way to me.
Cole kissed my cheek, followed by Madalyn.
And for the two people who made me a mom first, would always hold the most special place in my heart.
As we all sat down for dinner, laughter abounded.
Our table was full of our family. And every night, another person joined us for dinner... Flynn.
I would be forever grateful for the life he had been more than happy to help me keep on living it.
It didn’t mean that my husband took it easy on him after he healed up.
I looked at Bronson, my husband, the love of my life, and smiled.
He winked.
Oh! And the shirts I ordered were a bust.
Because I apparently couldn’t hide anything from my husband for shit.
But that didn’t stop him from wearing the hell out of his shirt.
Future Fighter Coming Soon.
As for Logan... he wore his proudly, Big Brother in the Making.
Bronson
“Hey, Bax?” I asked.
Bax looked at me and jerked up his chin, “Yeah?”
“You okay if we have a daughter that I call her, button?”
He grinned, “Nothing would please me more.”
***
And as I stared at the little girl, the little girl who was already the apple of my eye, I winked down at her and said, “Welcome to the world, Button.”
And that was where I fucked up.
Because we ended up having a few more daughters, and I couldn’t call them all button.
But as long as they started with a B, then okay.
Button.
Butterfly.
Bonnie.
***
Two Years Later
“Bronson Joseph Adams, if you don’t back the fuck off, I’m going to shove my foot up your ass!” she snapped.
I smirked, “Will I feel your toes tickle my throat?”
She growled, then she stomped away from me.
“Lila!”
She brought her hand up and shot me the middle finger.
I sighed.
I knew I was being overbearing.
And I would be overbearing until my baby girl came back home safe and fucking sound.
My first-born daughter had just left my protection for her first-ever date.
And I wasn’t happy about it.
I walked to the garage and growled as I grabbed my shotgun and planted my ass on the front porch.
“I’m going to bring the UFL to this house if you don’t stop!”
“Baby...”
“Bronson!” she snapped.
Then she threw her hands up as Cole and Logan joined me on the porch.
“Hey, honey?” she asked as she stepped out of the door.
I looked at her and lifted a brow, “Yeah?”
“Breathe, baby. Need you to breathe.” Her eyes twinkled.
I smirked, “If that’s not the pot calling the kettle black, then I don’t know what is.”
And when the fucker dropped her off, I winced.
Because he met me head-on with his hand held out, as I held a shotgun.
Fuck.
Me.