Epilogue
Indy
Gabriel looked up at me with his big brown eyes. Wolf eyes. “Daddy?”
“Yes, bud?”
“Am I still your son if I’m not like you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a unicorn. And I’m a big bad wolf.” Gabriel was five now. He’d just started school.
“Did you hear that term in class?”
He nodded then picked up his glass of milk and sipped.
I sat down at the table across from him. He was having his afternoon snack. “Well, I don’t think you’re bad. Do you?”
He shrugged and reached for an oatmeal cookie. He loved them and always begged for more. “No. But in the story at school, the wolf was bad. And they chase sheepses and hunt deers and little red riding hood girls. Oh, and I almost forgot. They huff and puff and blow down houses.”
We’d kept those books away from Gabe. But there was no way to police every library and classroom and the homes of Gabe’s friends. Unicorns had all those kinds of kids’ books and loved stories about wolves as predators.
“But you don’t do any of that stuff. It’s just a fairy tale. A made-up story.”
“But unicorns are always good, aren’t they?”
“Hmm. I think people decide. We all have choices. We can make good decisions and bad ones. That’s why we stop and think before we say or do things. Especially if we’re angry or upset. Right?”
“You mean like when I threw my teddy on the floor because I didn’t want to go to bed last night?”
“Yep. Just like that.”
“I’m sorry. I was bad.”
“Teddy forgives you.” I tried not to chuckle. Gabe was a great kid. We’d had almost zero problems from him.
Our new little one, however, a unicorn shifter we’d named Forest, kept us awake all hours of the night. He was three months old and already a handful. The complete opposite of Gabe.
At the mention of little Forest, Seth came into the room. He had the baby in a front pouch tight against his chest. The little one was fast asleep against his father’s warmth.
“If you let him nap like that, he’ll be up all night again.” I tore my eyes away from the cute sight.
“I can’t help it. Into the pouch he goes and then he’s asleep.”
“If you’d get up and use it at three in the morning, maybe he’d sleep then, too. But Bram and I can’t ever get you to budge.”
Seth held up his hand. “I vow to get up tonight and use the pouch. You two deserve your beauty sleep.”
“Where’s Bram?”
“Shh. He’s getting a nap. Finally.”
Gabe began to chatter about his day at school to Seth, who listened to every word as if it was the end of the world.
He made exclamations at every description of a bad wolf and used an endless supply of facial expressions to convey his understanding until Gabe started cracking up with uncontrolled laughter. Seth was a wonderful father.
Even with all the chatter, Forest never woke. Neither did Bram.
“Do you have to go back to the office today?” I asked.
“Nope. Working from home is so nice. Wish I could attend the council meetings from home, too.”
“Yeah. Me, too.” They were so boring.
We’d become the alphas of our herds. There had been a lot of celebration and fanfare over that. We’d been busy at first. But then things quieted, settled into a routine, and we actually had the time to raise our little family in peace.
When it was time to feed Forest, Seth took over.
He didn’t want to wake Bram, so he got out pumped breast milk and a bottle, warmed it perfectly, and fed the baby like a pro.
He loved kids so much. I did, too, and so did Bram, but Seth had a way with them I envied.
It was like he could be the adult and be a kid at the same time, on the same level as the kid but with adult patience and wisdom.
Even if Bram or I got frustrated with something, Seth’s infinite patience won the day. Our bond kept us from ever going to bed mad. Our compatibility tied us together like an infinite knot.
Seth and I sat on the couch together, cartoons on the TV, while Gabe colored and Forest digested his afternoon meal. Seth reached out and grabbed my hand, holding it tight.
“What’s that for?” I asked.
“I love you,” he said.
I lifted my hand, turning it, and brought it to my lips. “I love you, too.”
“Ick, Daddies, stop it.” I looked down at Gabe staring at us from where he sat on the floor.
Just then, Bram walked into the room. “Stop what?” He loomed over Gabe. “What are they doing?” Bram turned and scowled at us.
“Nothing.” I widened my eyes.
“Nothing at all,” Seth said.
Then we looked at Gabe and, together, we grabbed him and held him up high in the air. “We love you, too, little cub.”
Gabe squealed, laughing, begging to be put down. The baby stared at us all like we were aliens.
Bram put his hands on his hips. “What about me?”
“We love you, too!” we spoke together.
When we put Gabe down, he ran to Bram and put his arms around his leg and his head against his thigh. “Papa, make them stop.”
“I’m afraid I can’t, kiddo. Once you decide you love somebody like we do, as your daddies, it doesn’t stop. I’m afraid that train has left the station.”
Gabe pouted then peeked at us through his fingers.
“We see you,” I said calmly. “And we still love you.”
Seth said in a deep, witchy voice, “You can never escape us.”
Gabe shrieked. We all had a good laugh.
When we put Gabe down for the night, I read him a special book about good wolves and all the nice things they did for the world. Bram had remembered the book from his childhood, and we bought a new copy online.
Now, his wolf eyes looked very sleepy. He motioned me to put my head down close to him. “I love you, Daddy,” he whispered.
Later, I learned he’d whispered the same thing to Seth and Bram as they kissed him good night.
I never took for granted how lucky we were.