Epilogue
LYRA
Ten years later
“Okay, then I’m going home,” I tell Eddie, the night shift nurse, and she waves me off.
“Give those cuties a kiss for me, will you?”
I smile. “Promise.” And I leave the small clinic with that old spring in my step. I’m ten years older, but happiness doesn’t falter. It still fills every aspect of my life.
After getting behind the wheel of my bulletproof Audi, I turn the radio on and drive out of my usual spot.
Being the head nurse was never on my plans, but since we moved to a small town, it was an obvious and natural development.
My husband is proud; I think I’m doing a good job, and it doesn’t take a toll on the time I have with my children.
The small town seems to like us well enough.
Being a place where families live their entire lives, they thought it weird to have a newlywed couple coming along when none of us had family here.
I always told them I hated the thought of raising my children in a big town, full of violence and pollution.
Everyone eats that story right up. No one second-guesses it.
And certainly, there’s not a single soul who thinks my husband, who coaches the town’s children in soccer every weekend, spent his life killing for money.
Maverick made running away seem simple. He took care of everything. All I had to do was pack my things and send my resignation. Maverick loaded everything into the back of a U-Haul and I left everything behind.
We have new names and new backstories nobody bothers to question. Maverick concocted a witness program with money and starting a new one was something I never knew I needed.
He’s still over-cautious, though. I pass the security in front of our back entrance—a man Maverick personally interviewed and very possibly personally threatened—and drive past the gates.
Cameras, motion detectors, alarms. My husband thought of everything.
He even got us some dogs, a couple of Rottweilers who act as guards during the evenings.
They’re so well trained they’re invisible after sundown, hiding away, watching for signs of break-ins, but during the day, they’re the pride of my children. Four-legged nannies.
I park in my usual spot, with a view of the kitchen windows. Maverick’s usually standing there, starting with dinner as the kids do homework on the dining table, and he enjoys seeing me arrive. There’s always a smile on his face.
I hop off the Audi and make my way to the back door. The digital lock still makes me roll my eyes. I get in, leave my shoes in the foyer, and then make my way to the sink to grab a glass of water.
Where are they anyway?
“Babe?” I call out, gazing up and down the corridor to the living room.
Maverick went all out with this place. I had no idea he had this much money when we got together, but the moment I put my eyes on the five-bedroom house, all with ensuite bathrooms, a lavabo, a TV room, a kitchen big enough to fit my old apartment, and some more...
“In the front yard!” he calls back, and then I hear the chuckles.
Our three children play with the dogs, running up and down the yard like it’s a competition.
The dogs heave, out of air, but pumped with the exercise.
They halt for a moment, checking me out, then when they’re sure I’m no threat, they go back to their play.
The children—two sons and one daughter with as much energy as the two boys combined—are playing some kind of game, passing the ball between them, trying to avoid the dogs as the animals try to catch the toy.
Maverick sits on a lounge chair at the entrance, a bowl of potatoes between his knees, a knife in his hand. Ten years. Ten years and this sight still takes me aback every time.
The man who used to hurt for a living, and this homely life turned out to be perfect for him. He stays at home, takes care of the house and the children, cooks, and cleans. He exercises, and he reads, and he helps our children with homework. I never thought he would fit in so easily.
He tilts his head up. “Welcome home, love,” he greets, and I bend to kiss him. “How’s work?”
“Everything’s calm,” I say as he puts the bowl away and tugs me closer. I sit on his lap as his hands come to rest around my hips. “Just routine checks. Nothing like making sure everyone’s healthy before they get a chance to go sick.”
He nods, then buries his face in my neck. “Good. I missed you today.”
“You say that every day.”
“That’s because I miss you every day. Can you blame me?” He smiles. “If you didn’t love this job so much, I’d convince you to stay home with me.”
And I thought of that more times than I can count, but I’m doing well here. I’m helping people out, and a part of me hopes this counts towards my man’s sins.
I kiss the corner of his lips, dropping the subject. “What about your day?” I ask. “Did you manage to clean the attic like you wanted?”
He grunts. “Hell no. I was putting Elisa’s crib down, and you won’t believe what I found. Crayon drawings. Somehow, she covered the lower wall with them, then hid the evidence behind the crib.”
“What?” And I shoot a glance at Elisa, but she’s too busy running around. “How does she do that? Is she a secret evil mastermind?”
“Pretty sure she’s a small genius. I spent the whole afternoon getting rid of crayon stains. They’re hard to scrub off.”
“Oh, no,” I mumble, running a hand down his bulging biceps. “And I missed that?”
He grins. “We can play pretend later.”
“We sure can.” And he kisses me, hard. Heat coils low in my belly, so I pull back and shoot to my feet. “Okay, Rick,” I tease, using the name he ended up adopting, “let’s get this dinner rolling.” And I whirl around to the kids. “Ain’t nobody going to greet Mama?”
And they race toward me, dropping the ball, three pairs of small arms curling around my thighs. Even the dogs join, barking in greeting. I scratch the dogs, then kneel next to my children, kissing them all. The sight of their grimy, smiley faces fills my chest so much I almost tear up.
And it’s all because of him. I shoot a look back at my husband, knowing this is all because of him. Because of that step we decided to take together.
THE END OF BOOK 11