Bonus Epilogue
Rhys ~ Five Years Later
Fallon once told me dirt made her feel special. She could take dirt, a few seeds, and grow anything. And she did the same with me. Grew me into the kind of man she needed and wanted.
Now she’s built an empire out of her magic. Don’t tell Griffin we call it that.
The line outside the bookstore curls around the corner. A snake of people clutch her debut novel: Rooted with Love: The Garden, The Messy Mind, and Finding Prince Charming In Between by Fallon Nova
It’s a New York Times Bestseller. And she dedicated it to Basil.
I don’t mind that she publishes under the name Nova. It was the only smart and kind thing Elias Black did for his daughter. It keeps her safe. And that keeps me sane.
“Mummy’s coloring!” Patrick shifts against my shoulder, his tiny hand curling into the collar of my shirt.
“She’s signing her name, lad,” I say, shifting my son to my other hip.
He’s heavy now at nearly three. I sometimes can’t stop staring at him. How utterly perfect he is, coming from a monster like me. Fallon had to be extra gentle, extra soft, extra fragile, or we’d be breeding little dragons.
I love that he calls Fallon mummy, and I love the two of them more than I ever could have imagined loving anyone.
“Your mum is beautiful, aye?” I murmur, rocking him lightly while he stretches toward her, just like her plants stretch to the light.
I get it now. “Did you know Mummy is the reason all these people are smiling today? Can you imagine that? All these strangers standing in line just to meet her. Thank her for understanding them.”
Saving them, maybe. At least to not feel so alone. She has me, but not everyone has an assassin husband.
Thank God for that, really.
Patrick blinks up at me with Fallon’s hazel eyes wide and soft, and I press my lips to his temple. “And she’s not just your mum. She’s the reason I know what peace feels like.”
The empire doesn’t look the same these days. But every day, I chose my family first.
Kai Powers wrestled Black’s estate from grubby Roxy. But my Fallon refused a cent of her father’s money. She donated every penny to the city’s gardens. She wanted something good to grow out of his evil.
Her name isn’t plastered on every plaque from Battery Park to Queens. But if you look carefully, all the new benches have an inscription: Nova Foundation for Urban Renewal.
Has a nice ring to it.
Fallon is in her element, wearing a green dress the color of spring leaves and her gardening boots. That’s her signature look. If I didn’t give her a once-over before we got here, she’d have dirt under her nails. Ironically, she made that her brand.
I swear to God, I fall in love with her more and more every day.
Against floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with her debut, my Fallon sits, signing book after book. Smiling for photo after photo. We’re off to Los Angeles after this. And then Dublin. Fuck, I can’t wait to go home.
I have a surprise for my wife. That old cabin in Wicklow is now a brand-new two-story home. I also bought all the land around it. Fortified it. No one is getting near my family.
“We’ve got a plane to catch that afternoon.
” My mum, now Fallon’s agent — God help us all — is buzzing around on the phone, sealing deals and double-booking Fallon’s calendar that would send my wife spiraling if it was on a whiteboard.
“If she’s not your first guest, I’ll find a morning show that will make her their headliner.
One with better snacks in the green room.
I’d hate for you to look foolish, lass.” She leans in and whispers, “Shea-Lynne taught me to ask for that.”
Mum then goes on to mention the documentary that’s in the works.
I glance down at Patrick. “That’s your Mimi,” I whisper. “She thinks she’s the boss. Don’t tell her she’s not.”
Patrick giggles, and I press a kiss to the crown of his head. My son. My little legacy. My duty to the Patrick Quinlan line. Fulfilled.
My dad is here, too with Uncle Finn of all people. He’s working for me as extra security. He may be an ex-con, but he’s still a Quinlan. With Uncle Aiden gone, I’m happy Dad has his other brother back in his life.
Right now, Uncle Finn is guarding Patrick’s toys and a plate of his favorite cookies. Ginger, of course. Grown from the garden.
Fallon catches my eye across the store, and everything inside me slows. Her hair is as wild as ever, little braids with ribbons threaded through. It’s one of her calming techniques.
A rustle in the line of waiting readers gets my attention. A woman drops to her knees beside a little girl who’s maybe eight years old. The lass is trembling, hands fluttering, breath coming in shallow gasps. She’s rocking and moaning.
She’s having an episode.
Panic flickers across the mother’s face. Fallon notices and doesn’t hesitate to leap from the table, scooping up Basil IV. The crowd quiets like someone cut the sound.
My wife kneels on the floor beside the girl, her signing books forgotten. Her status, forgotten. She only wants to help this little angel.
“Hi, cutie-pie. Do you like plants?” She holds out her precious herb. “This is Basil. Smell how fresh he is.”
The girl’s head jerks once, a tear sliding down her cheek. Fallon smiles softly.
“If you listen closely, you can hear him tell you, you got this. There’s nothing to be stressed about. Your mommy is here. And I’m here.” Fallon leans in and whispers, “I was just like you.”
The girl rocks, and I’m thrust back eleven years ago, to the memory of helping that young lad, Ollie.
“That’s okay, sweetheart,” Fallon murmurs. “You don’t have to talk. I just want to tell you a story. Being different is tough.” She gives Basil a calming whiff. “But it’s preparing you to survive.”
“We’ve got her in therapy,” the mum whispers. “Doctors said she’s too young for medication.”
Fallon’s anger sparks to life. “No. No meds. Rhys, I have to write a children’s book next!”
“Aye, my love. I can’t wait to read it.”
“Will you keep Basil for me?” She hands the plant to the woman. “Watch him. Take care of him.”
“Are… Are you sure?” The mum blushes. “I read your book. This is my copy. I know how much he means to you.”
There are several Basils now. Our flat, my mum’s place, and a whole new batch are growing in Wicklow.
“I’m sure.” Fallon turns back to the girl, showing her how to box breathe.
The little girl mirrors my wife. Inhales, exhales, slower now. Fallon keeps talking, spinning this little story about Basil making her braver each day. How taking care of him pulled her out of herself. She had to be there for him with water, food, and the right amount of sunlight to help him grow.
When the girl finally laughs, a thin, shaky sound, the mum exhales with her.
“Thank you,” she whispers, eyes wet.
Fallon returns to her signing table and motions to the mum. “Come, let me sign your book so you can get your angel home.”
The crowd hushes too, noticing this moment Fallon is having. No one bristles on the line when the mum and daughter walk right up to the table. They all bought her book because they understand mental health challenges. That and the look I just sent down the row.
With the book signed, the mum walks away with her daughter’s hand in hers.
Fallon smiles, and I swear she glows. Not just beautiful, she’s fucking radiant.
The signing ends, and when Fallon stands to wave goodbye to the last reader, I settle behind her, resting both hands around her curvy waist.
“You handled all this like magic, love,” I murmur against her hair. “I’ve seen you do a lot of things. But that with the little lass? That was…” My throat tightens. “Christ, I’m proud of you.”
She goes still, fingers twitching with mine. “My mom understood me. But she died. And then I had to figure it out for myself.”
Now I see, she’s holding her stomach. “Fal, what’s going on?”
“I’ve been waiting for the right time. Things have been so busy.” She pulls out her phone and shows me a photo she took of a positive pregnancy test. “If this one’s a girl, she might have the same thing as me.”
For a second, all the noise in my head disappears. I put my hand on her stomach in awe, like I did for much of her pregnancy with Patrick. She created a perfect life for us. In so many ways.
“She feels strong, love.” I swear I can almost feel this baby’s heartbeat beneath my palm.
With her first pregnancy and the shadow of her old medications hanging over us, I didn’t want to take any chances with Fallon’s health or the baby’s.
After a full medical and psychological evaluation, a top specialist corrected her ADHD diagnosis to obsessive-compulsive disorder and severe anxiety.
The panic from that anxiety and meds had caused the blackouts, like the day she misheard me in the tea shop and thought I’d called her my girlfriend.
Her conversations with the plants aren’t madness or a psychosis. They are a simple coping mechanism, a way she learned to survive the loneliness. The plants were her confidants, her calm in the noise.
I am that rock for her now, and the plants are mostly decorative. She still talks to them, but I don’t think they talk back. Even if they did, so what?
“Are you happy?” Fallon asks, her voice breaking me from my thoughts.
I lift her up. “I’m shaking with it, love.”
Her eyes shine. “Now you really can never let me go. Let us go.”
My laugh is more like the scratchy growl of a lion. “Even without the children you give me, I never would let you go.”
That ADHD medication she’d been prescribed for years had been poisoning her body and her mind. That’s why, without taking it, Fallon was free to just be herself.
The woman I fell madly in love with.
Patrick wobbles away from my dad and his brother with a cookie. “Mummy! Cookie!”
I pull Patrick in, crushing them both against me. Patrick lets out a startled giggle from my strength.
“I love you, wife,” I whisper into her hair. “You, and your chaos. I’ll take a hundred of you if it means I get this.”
She looks up, smiling through tears. “Even the manic days?”
“Especially those.” I brush her cheek with my thumb. “They’re what make you, you.”
After Fallon gets her check from the bookstore, which she hands to me without even looking at the amount, we head back to our flat, which is now a combination of both places. We put Patrick to bed, who had already passed out from all the excitement.
We need to pack, but right now, I just want to hold the woman I love. The woman who saved me. She gave me everything. A son who carries the Quinlan name, and a new baby on the way. I hope this one is a little girl who will inherit her mother’s red hair.
And her wild heart.
And as I lie here and hold her, I’m surrounded by a peace I never thought I’d earn because of what I do for a living.
One thing is clear…
This is now my Quinlan Empire, and I couldn’t have built it without Fallon Nova.