Epilogue
Raff
Tennessee Whiskey – Chris Stapleton
I gaze in the rear-view mirror of Josie’s SUV as I pull into the driveway.
My hands steady on the wheel while my heart is anything but.
I glance to the rear seat, where Jo sits beside the car seat cradling our brand-new baby girl, Journey.
She’s wrapped in a soft pink blanket, her tiny face barely visible beneath the fabric.
Jo looks up at me, exhaustion and happiness mingling in her eyes. “We’re home,” she whispers, a soft smile on her lips.
Home. It’s never been just a place—it’s them. Josie, Justice, and now Journey. My whole world packed into one truck.
I hop out, rounding the front to open her door, then gently take Journey from her arms so Jo can climb down. She moves slower than usual, the toll of childbirth still evident in the way she winces just slightly. I kiss her temple, murmuring, “Got you, mama.”
I hold Journey close as we walk toward the house. She’s so small, her weight barely noticeable in my arms, but she carries the gravity of something life changing. Jo moves beside me, a hand resting lightly on my arm as if grounding herself.
As I step inside, Danae is already in the living room, her suitcase in the corner. She flew in from Arkansas the second she heard Jo was in labor, determined to be here to help. Her sharp green eyes soften when she sees Journey in my arms.
“She’s perfect,” Danae says, brushing a gentle hand over the baby’s head. “Good job, Josie Mosie.”
Jo snorts. “Tell my body that. I feel like I got run over.”
Danae laughs. “That’s what happens when you push a human out of your body. But hey, you survived.”
Before Danae can respond, a familiar voice interrupts. “Damn, I was just coming to check in, but I didn’t know there’d be a welcome committee.”
Miles leans against the doorway, his ever-present smirk firmly in place. His eyes flick to Danae, and something shifts in his expression. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”
Danae crosses her arms, unimpressed, but her eyes dance with something different. “I could say the same about you.”
There is something here I can’t read between them. And they should be strangers.
Miles grins, clearly unbothered by her attitude. “You’re feisty. I like that.”
Danae rolls her eyes. “Not interested.”
Miles chuckles, undeterred. “We’ll see.”
I shake my head, focusing back on what matters. Setting Journey in her bassinet, I turn to Justice, who’s been watching everything unfold from the couch. His big brown eyes flick from the baby to me, uncertainty written all over his face.
“Hey, buddy.” I kneel in front of him. “Come here.”
He hesitates but slides off the couch, standing in front of me.
I rest my hands on his shoulders, making sure he’s really listening.
“She’s your little sister, and yeah, things are gonna be different now.
But you? You’re my first kid. That doesn’t change.
And what we do, guy time, it’s still our time, you and me. ”
His lower lip wobbles, and I can see the emotions swirling in his head. “You still love me the same?” he asks, his voice small.
I pull him into a tight hug. “Always, Justice. No matter what.”
He clings to me, and I feel Jo’s gaze on us. When I look up, she’s watching with tears in her eyes, love written all over her face. And I know, without a doubt, that bringing her and Journey home isn’t just a new chapter—it’s the best damn one yet.
The rest of the evening is a quiet chaos, filled with the small, beautiful moments that make up a family’s first night home with a newborn.
Jo is exhausted but refuses to rest right away, instead taking her time settling Journey in the bassinet in our bedroom.
I watch her, the way she gently strokes Journey’s tiny hands, whispering soft words only a mother can say.
There’s something sacred in it, something that makes my chest feel too tight with emotion.
Justice sticks close to me, his little hand clutching mine every chance he gets.
I can tell he’s nervous, not sure where he fits in this new dynamic, and it breaks my heart.
So, after Jo finally lays down to get some much-needed rest, I take Justice outside to the porch, the cool night air wrapping around us.
We sit on the steps, and I drape an arm around his small shoulders. “You okay, buddy?”
He nods, but his brow is furrowed. “I like her. Journey. She’s really little.”
I smile. “Yeah, she is.”
He kicks at a loose pebble. “I just don’t want things to change too much.”
I squeeze his shoulder. “They will a little. But some things don’t change at all. Like how much I love you.”
He leans into me, and we sit like that for a while, just father and son, under the wide-open sky. I don’t rush him to talk, don’t push him to share more than he’s ready to. Eventually, he lets out a sigh and looks up at me. “Can I help with her? Like when she cries and stuff?”
I grin, ruffling his hair. “Of course. You’re her big brother. She’s gonna need you.”
His chest puffs up just a little, and I know in that moment he’s starting to accept this new chapter in our lives.
Inside, Jo is curled up in bed, Journey asleep in the bassinet beside her. I slip in quietly, pressing a kiss to Jo’s forehead. She stirs slightly, opening her eyes to look at me.
“She okay?” she murmurs.
“She’s perfect. Justice is, too.”
Jo smiles, reaching for my hand. “I love you, Dean.”
I squeeze her fingers gently. “I love you more, Jo.”
And as I stand there, looking at my sleeping daughter, my son, and the love of my life, I know there’s nothing in this world I’d trade for the life I have now. Because this—this is everything.