Epilogue
Skylar
Six years later
Ababy cries in the back of our butcher shop. A sweet wail that drifts to the front, where I arrange the place before opening.
A smile pulls at my lips as I wipe down the counter.
Some might think it strange to hear a sound like that in a place like this.
Not us.
Trouble’s Cuts is our home away from home.
“Vada, what’s this?” From the back, Juno’s little voice rises. “No crying while Daddy and I cut the cows.”
“Skin, Junebug.” I hear my husband correct gently. “We’re skinning them. And Vada can cry. Remember what Mama and I always say? As long as you’re not hurting anyone, you and your siblings are free to do and say anything you like.”
My smile widens, but I stay right where I am. I don’t offer to help him with the kids. Even though they probably do need me—yes, definitely, now that both of them are howling—I stay put.
I’m listening in on their sweet interactions without interrupting them because Knox is such a great father.
We’ve been through a lot since we escaped Colbert. Here in Manhattan, we’ve finally found our peace.
Our life isn’t quiet. It’s messy, noisy, beautiful.
It’s ours.
“When can I start skinning too, Dad?” Cass pipes up, the sound of his sneakers going bump, bump, bump makes it clear he’s bouncing with impatience. “I cleaned aaallll the blood. I always do. Lemme skin!”
“Let us, Cass,” Rafe, ever the gentle twin, reminds Cass they’re in it together. “But yeah, Dad. When can we start? Let us skin, please.”
Their voices, their closeness, the way they fit so easily into the rhythm Knox sets—all of it squeezes at my heart until my eyes blur.
Tears sting, and not just from love. From hormones too.
I gave birth three months ago, and I’m already pregnant again.
I love that. We all do.
It’s never slowed us down either. If anything, our business is thriving.
Our customers are loyal, patient, and more like family than anything else. They notice when I’m gone, send flowers when they miss me, help Knox when I’m on maternity leave. They don’t judge us for letting our kids roam freely in the back.
God, I really need to stop crying over literally everything. Especially over the fact that it’s the weekend, my favorite time of the week.
For two whole days, our kids come to work with us every week.
All five of them.
Juno is our firstborn. She was conceived in Colbert, and I swear she carries that town with her. The quiet intensity, the sharpness in her hazel eyes. The only piece of me she has is my blonde hair. I never tie hers into pigtails. Ever.
Less than a year after she was born, our first pair of adorable twins arrived.
Cass and Rafe. Both blond, but that’s where their resemblance ends.
Rafe, with his hazel eyes, is protective and watchful, always keeping Cass in check.
Cass, with his mischievous smirk and glinting green eyes, will forever be trouble.
Then came the girls, Vada and Nicoletta. These precious two are identical, with golden hair, hazel eyes, and firecracker souls. Vada usually starts crying, and Nicoletta loves to echo her.
I love them and their daddy. So much.
My parents love and respect us too. From the moment I told them that Bronwyn and Easton ditched me in Colbert and were now officially missing persons, my parents stopped pushing me to be a doctor. They were relieved that I was alive, well, and happy, and that’s all that mattered.
They still have no idea where Bronwyn is. No one’s called about the missing posters we hung at gas stations and convenience stores around what used to be the town of Colbert.
So, yeah. They support us and help with babysitting whenever they can. They take fewer shifts at the hospital because they’re so obsessed with their grandchildren. Maybe because they understand that any day, any time, one of us could go missing.
They even tease me about baby number six, but I can tell that they’re as excited to meet them as the rest of the family is.
“Soon,” I whisper, setting down the rag towel.
I rub my belly, just like Knox does every chance he gets. Late at night, in the shower, at the grocery store, anywhere.
You’re perfect, Trouble, he murmurs. Perfect and mine.
Another wave of wailing drifts from the back. My chuckle is a watery one.
“Sweetheart, Junebug, hand me the knife.” Knox is patient, genuinely so.
The sound of his voice makes me melt all over again.
My husband.
My soulmate.
The father who wakes at night for the babies, always before me.
The man who always says, I’ve got you and means it.
Mine.
With ten minutes until the shop opens, I decide it’s time to stop eavesdropping and join them.
I pad across the white tiles, pushing through the curtain into the back.
Four pairs of eyes light up at once. The twins wail louder, offering their own kind of greeting.
“Mama!” Cass races to me as if he didn’t see me just twenty minutes ago.
I scoop him into my arms, hugging him tight. He clings even tighter.
In our home, we hug, and we hug a lot.
Knox grins, setting the knife high on a shelf out of Juno’s reach. “Want in on the fun?”
“Absolutely.” I wink, lowering Cass and pulling Rafe into a hug as fierce as I gave his brother.
He doesn’t clamor for attention, but I’ll always give it to him. Always make sure he knows he’s as loved as his twin.
“The babies are crying.” Juno, serious as ever, strips off her gloves and points toward her sisters.
“And you, my little employee of the month…” I walk over to the bench she’s standing on. “I heard you out there. So diligent. We’re proud of you. Really proud.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Her cheeks flush pink. “I can do better. I will—”
“No.” I wrap her in my arms, pouring every ounce of love into the squeeze. “Doing your best is the only thing that matters, remember?”
“I remember,” she mutters, sounding so much like her dad.
I laugh, and she grumbles. My God, she’s cute.
When she joins her brothers, I move to the crib where the twins have gone quiet. Sometimes they simply need an outlet, a good cry before they fall back asleep.
Knox moves closer to us, slipping his hand to the back of my neck. He tugs me into a kiss so soft it makes my brain short-circuit. Heat floods my cheeks.
He smirks against my lips. My husband is highly aware of the effect his touch has on me.
I laugh through watery eyes because I’m so goddamn happy, tucking myself against him, into the hug that always makes me feel safe.
“Hey, Knox?”
“Yeah?” His breath warms my hair.
“Put the mask on tonight?”
Even after all these years, I always want to go back to that first night.
“Anything for you, wife.” His ownership of me vibrates through him, alive and sure. “I’ll give you the world and then some.”
He means it. Every word. Every promise. Every affectionate glare and tight embrace.
Knox loves us. Protects us.
With him, we’re cherished and safe.
Forever.
The End.