Epilogue
VIOLET
Dolly's engine hums steady as we cruise down the highway, mountain peaks rising on either side like they're showing off.
The morning sun turns everything gold, streaming through the windshield warm enough that I crack my window.
Cold air rushes in, sharp with pine and snow melt and the promise of spring that's still a few weeks away.
It’s been two years since I drove this highway alone, scared and desperate, with forty-seven dollars in my pocket and a dead car battery waiting for me. I thought everything was ending.
Now I’m back in these mountains with my life packed into Dolly’s worn-out interior.
Emma just got a great job, and she’s finally able to visit. I’ve missed her. I can’t wait for her to meet the alphas. She’s going to get a glimpse of the life I’ve built here, the one I never thought I’d have. Knowing she’s coming makes it feel even more real.
This isn’t the life I ran to. It’s the one I chose.
In the rearview mirror, Rose's hair catches the light like spun sugar, fine blonde wisps that refuse to stay in the tiny ponytail Liam attempted this morning.
She's nine months old and everything about her is new, soft pink cheeks and wide eyes that take in the world like it's magic.
Her little hands grip the toy hanging from her car seat handle, shaking it and bringing it to her mouth.
"Bah!" Rose announces suddenly, releasing the toy to bounce on its elastic cord. "Bah bah bah!"
"I think she's asking for music," Garrick says from beside her car seat. He's wedged into the back, one massive hand resting near her foot like he can't help but touch her. His scent fills the car, warm bread and cinnamon mixing with the coffee smell coming from the travel mugs in the cup holders.
"She's not asking," Xaden mutters from the passenger seat where he's sprawled with his long legs taking up way too much room, knees practically touching the dashboard. "She's demanding. Wonder where she gets that from."
"Definitely you," I say sweetly, glancing at him. The sun hits his profile, sharp jaw and that nose that's been broken at least once. His dark hair is messy from the wind through my window.
"I don't demand."
"You wanted breakfast this morning."
"That was a polite request."
"At five AM. Before my alarm went off."
"Bah bah bah BAH!" Rose's voice gets louder, more insistent. She's kicking now, little feet pushing against the car seat padding. Her boots have tiny flowers on them, a gift from Garrick last week that he claimed were practical but are clearly just adorable.
"See? Demanding," Xaden says. "Not my fault she inherited the good qualities."
"Nothing about demanding things at five AM is a good quality," Liam points out from the back.
He's wedged between Rose's car seat and the window, surrounded by the diaper bag, snack bag, emergency medical kit, and approximately seven hundred other things we apparently need for a two-hour drive.
His chamomile scent is trying valiantly to compete with Garrick's cinnamon and losing. "Though I agree she wants music."
I reach for my phone in the cup holder, keeping one hand on the wheel as Dolly bumps over a rough patch. The steering wheel vibrates under my palm. "Dolly Parton?"
Rose squeals. Actually squeals, high and delighted, like she understands every word.
"I think that's a yes," Garrick says, grinning. That smile still does things to me, makes my omega purr with satisfaction even after two years of seeing it daily.
I queue up my playlist and hit play. "9 to 5" starts pumping through Dolly's speakers, tinny and too loud and perfect.
Rose's whole body responds. She starts bouncing, or her version of bouncing which is really more like rhythmic wiggling since the car seat keeps her pretty secure. Her arms wave, hands opening and closing like she's trying to grab the music out of the air. "Ah! Ah ah ah!"
"There we go," I say, and start singing.
The words come easy, familiar as breathing. My voice is too loud, off-key on the high notes, and I don't care. Not anymore. Not after two years of learning that singing loud is freedom, not something to apologize for.
Through the mirror, I watch Garrick join in after the first verse. His deep voice rumbles through the car, turning the lyrics into something warm and full. He's conducting with one hand, directing an imaginary orchestra, and Rose watches him like he's performing the greatest show on earth.
The road curves and I follow it, Dolly's tires humming against asphalt. We pass the spot where I broke down two years ago, where everything changed. The bakery's visible in the distance for just a moment before the road curves again and it's gone.
I kept running that night. Ran straight into the best thing that ever happened to me.
"Tumble out of bed and stumble to the kitchen," Garrick belts out, making exaggerated faces at Rose. She shrieks with laughter, a sound so pure and happy it makes my chest tight.
Liam's voice joins in next, smooth and controlled. He's harmonizing, letting Garrick and me take the lead while he adds depth underneath. He leans forward slightly, making sure Rose can see him. She immediately reaches for him, little hands grasping at air.
“Da-da-da,” Rose babbles, bouncing harder now. It's one of her favorite sounds, though she uses it for everything. Mama when she's happy. Mama when she's hungry. Mama when she sees a dog.
Right now it sounds like pure joy.
By the second chorus, even Xaden's mumbling along. So quiet I can barely hear him over Rose's squealing and the wind through my window and the engine's steady purr. But his lips are moving, following words he's heard me sing a thousand times since that first night.
"Louder," I tell him, glancing over.
"I'm singing."
"Dada!" Rose shouts suddenly, like she's agreeing with me. "Dada dada dada!"
It's the first time she's strung that many together. All three of my alphas go still.
"Did she just..." Liam's voice cracks.
"She's been saying dada for weeks," Garrick says, but his voice is rough. "Just babbling."
"That wasn't babbling," Xaden says quietly. He's turned in his seat now, looking back at Rose like she just recited Shakespeare. "She was talking to me."
"She's nine months old," Liam says, but he's leaning forward too, medical knowledge warring with hope. "They don't usually use names intentionally yet."
"Dada dada dada," Rose repeats, grinning at Xaden with her four tiny teeth showing. She's waving her arms, reaching for him.
His scent spikes. That dark chocolate and coffee smell that means he's feeling everything and trying not to show it. "Hey, baby girl. Yeah, that's me. Dada."
I catch Garrick's eyes in the mirror. We're both trying not to cry, shoulders shaking with suppressed emotion. Two years ago I was alone. Now I have this, all of us packed into my beat-up car, falling apart over our daughter saying dada.
"Keep singing," I manage, voice thick. "Before we all start crying and I drive off the road."
Xaden raises his voice on the next verse, actually singing now instead of mumbling. His voice cracks on the high note and Rose dissolves into giggles, bouncing so hard her car seat rocks.
We're a disaster. Four adults who can't carry a tune and one baby who can't talk yet, all making noise at the mountains while Dolly the car carries us down the highway. The sound bounces around the interior, too loud and chaotic and exactly right.
Through the windshield, the mountains keep rising, snow-capped peaks against blue sky. The same mountains I drove through two years ago, scared and alone. The same curves in the road, the same tall trees reaching for the sky.
But everything's different now.
The song ends and Rose immediately starts babbling again. "Bah bah bah! Mama dada bah!"
"I think she wants more," Garrick says, tickling her foot. She kicks at his hand, squealing.
"What about 'Jolene'?" I suggest, queuing it up. "She loves that one."
The opening notes fill the car, slower than "9 to 5," more haunting. Rose goes still for a moment, listening. Then she starts swaying, her whole body moving to the rhythm.
"Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene," I start, and this time everyone joins in right away. Even Xaden, who's given up pretending he's too cool for this.
Our voices blend together, terrible and wonderful. Garrick's too deep, Liam's too perfect, Xaden's too rough, mine too enthusiastic. And Rose just babbling along, "Bah bah bah," trying to match our rhythm.
The road straightens out and I press the gas, feeling Dolly respond. She's old and loud and held together with hope, but she's ours. She brought me here two years ago. Brought me home when I didn't even know I was looking for it.
And now she's carrying all of us. Pack crammed into her beat-up interior, singing Dolly Parton at the mountains like we don't have a care in the world.
Because we don't.
I glance in the rearview mirror again. Garrick's got his eyes closed, singing with his whole heart. Liam's smiling that smile that shows his teeth and makes him look younger. Xaden's watching Rose like she hung the moon.
And Rose. Our baby girl. Nine months old and perfect. Babbling along to Dolly Parton while her dads sing off-key and her mama drives too fast on mountain curves.
Two years ago I had nothing. Now I have everything.
Home isn't a place. It's this. It's pack. It's choosing and being chosen every single day.
It's four voices that can't harmonize and one baby who doesn't care, all singing together while the mountains watch.
"Mama!" Rose shouts suddenly, loud enough to make me jump. "Mama mama mama!"
"I'm here, baby girl," I call back, my voice breaking on the words. "Mama's right here."
And I am. We all are.
Home. Finally, completely, perfectly home.