EPILOGUE
FOUR YEARS LATER
Kev pulled down the blinds, shielding her sweet, brand-new eyes—eyes he just knew would turn a vibrant blue like her mom’s—from the morning sunlight streaming in through the bathroom window.
Placing his daughter’s warm and impossibly small body down on the changing table—a gorgeous antique Jen found for them in her attic that just barely fit in their bathroom—he flinched when the smell hit him.
“Oof, baby girl,” he said, leaning back. “What did you eat?”
He knew the answer. He’d watched Davis breastfeed their daughter Max as often as he could since they’d brought her home from the hospital over a week ago. It was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen. But, damn , this tiny miracle in human form could stink up a room.
“I told you it was a bad one,” Davis called out from their bedroom, sounding exhausted. “Do I need to come help?”
“Nah.” Wiggling Max’s tiny toes between his thumb and first finger, he said, “I think I got it,” in a goofy voice he might have been embarrassed about if he’d given two shits about that sort of thing anymore.
Peeling back the adhesive tab on one side of Max’s diaper, and then the other, he braced himself for the fallout. “Dear lord,” he cooed while she grunted and squirmed. “Did you do all that? How? How did all of that come out of your teeny, little…” He trailed off, his eyes going wide. “Babe!” he shouted. “Oh my god, Davis!”
“What?” A dull thump came from their bedroom, probably her feet hitting the hardwood. “What’s wrong?”
When she stumbled into the bathroom, her golden hair a tangled mess, dark circles camped out under her eyes that matched his but only worse, and still more beautiful than any woman had a right to be, he pointed at the diaper and said, “It finally happened.”
“What finally happened?” She rubbed her eyes. “She pooped? She does that, like, a hundred times a day. Aside from eating and sleeping and crying, it’s all she does.”
“Yeah, but not like this.” He could sense how manic his smile was, how manic he was. Sleep deprivation did that to a person. But this was important. “That’s it, isn’t it?” he asked, pointing at the diaper again. “That’s baby-shit green.”
With a breathy, worn-out laugh, Davis collapsed against his side while he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
“Yep,” she said, staring down at their perfect, precious daughter. “That is baby-shit green.”
Squeezing her close, he said, “Well, now I finally know for sure. That is definitely not my favorite shade.”
Davis laughed again, then yawned for a full five seconds before asking, “You got her?”
Pressing a kiss onto her head, he said, “I got her. Go back to bed, baby.”
She turned her face up to his. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”
“Yes,” he said, leaning down to brush his lips over hers. “About half as much as I love you.” He squeezed her ass, then swatted it. “Now go get some sleep.”
After planting a soft kiss on their daughter’s forehead, Davis gave Kev a quick hug, then staggered back into the bedroom.
Kev cleaned Max up—a task that required six whole wipies—snapped her into a fresh onesie, and carried her into the kitchen. Cradling her in his arms, he slid open the window above the sink, where River and Maggie were already waiting for their morning apple slices. While Max watched the horses chew their apples, utterly transfixed, Kev smiled at his daughter like she was the sun and the moon and every single one of the stars—including the ones he’d thrown pinecones at back when he hadn’t even known how to wish for a life this wonderful.
Once the apple slices had all been fed, he closed the window again, and as quietly as he could, crept past their bedroom, glancing at their bed, at his wife, who’d already fallen back to sleep. Grabbing a blanket from the couch, he let his attention linger on the one remaining picture of his mom that hung on their living room wall. The one Davis had surprised him by having framed for his birthday three years ago. Then he stepped out onto their porch.
The September morning was chilled but not cold, with a clear, deep blue sky that seemed to stretch on forever. A few leaves on the willow in front of their house had begun to change color. A crescent moon still hovered over the mountains. And everything around him, including the fresh horses bucking and squealing in their pastures, felt like fall. Like change. Like the end of one thing and the beginning of something else. It was the sort of sensation that used to scare him. But not anymore. Now it just filled him with hope.
What he’d said to Madigan in his truck that day four years ago had been true. He’d never touched another drug, never again felt the pull of that life. At least not in any way that made him consider giving up everything he had now. All the good things he’d been blind to before that surrounded him every day, like sunlight. The barn that felt like home, River, the love of his life sleeping in their bed, the angel in his arms.
Wrapping the blanket around his shoulders, tucking it snuggly around their daughter, he sat in one of the two wooden chairs on the porch—the chairs he’d found in Jen’s storage, the chairs that Davis had taken one look at, then said to him with tears standing in her eyes, “They both rock.”
A part of him had cowered in fear when they’d found out Davis was pregnant. The part of him that wondered what kind of father he’d be, if he’d be a source of comfort and solace in their daughter’s life, or if he’d somehow trip and fall into a genetic sinkhole and leave her feeling unloved, alone, never good enough. Looking at Max now—and after talking his fears through with Davis, and later with Grandpa Madigan—he almost laughed. Because from the second Davis pushed Max into the world, from the second she took her first breath, then released her first wailing cry, he knew. He knew it like an arrow aimed true, shot straight through his heart. He would never leave her. He’d do everything in his power to protect her, to love her and support her and be there for her always. Always and forever.
Filling his lungs with a deep, grateful breath, he started rocking. And while Max settled into a contented milk coma, her mouth falling open into a blissed-out little O, her body warm and heavy and substantial in his arms, Kev felt the sun on his face, listened to the birds singing in the trees, and wondered—the same way he’d wondered every single day since Davis came into his life—how he’d ever gotten so lucky.