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We also have Ryan and Katie over a lot, and they are deep into wedding planning after their engagement on Christmas. Dare will be standing with Ryan, and I’m salivating at the idea of him in a tux.

Garrett and Caleb come driving around the corner in the moving van, which holds all of the stuff from my apartment that we decided not to get rid of. Between our two places, Dare and I donated a lot of stuff, sold a few things, and consolidated what we needed to. Nolan and Chris are following behind with Chris’s wife and their new baby. Everyone gets out, and we meet them in the driveway. Caleb officially welcomes Dare into the Pack with his goofy howl, and we can’t help but laugh as some of us howl back. Apparently, that scares the baby, and she starts to cry. Chris’s wife laughs and bounces the little one on her hip to help quiet her down.

I take the guys inside to show them what we are going to do and where we are going to put things. Boxes and furniture are carried in and put in their respective rooms. Chris and his wife leave when the baby continues to get fussy, and the rest of the guys are not long to follow.

Dare and I are sore and tired after a full day of moving boxes and furniture, so we order a pizza and sit on the couch.

“Moving sucks,” I say after gulping down some water. I’m just glad that we have another day before Dare has to be back at his job and I have to be at the shop.

Speaking of Dare’s job, Julian and Brian have taken exceptionally good care of him, and the business is doing so well that it’s now his primary job. He may pick up a project here and there from old customers, but he’s dedicated to what Julian puts in front of him, and there is more than enough to keep him busy. He may or may not have had another contract from me when I decided to rebrand the shop, opening it to a few different markets and people. He’s also working with a newer and younger designer who needs to get her feet wet in sort of an apprentice-type role.

Dare and I often talk about things that happened in the house and memories of Nate. He’s a part of our conversations somewhat regularly, in fact. We laugh a lot, although there are also occasional tears, but the process is just that—a process. The grief will never go away, but we’re learning how to move forward and heal together.

I’m convinced that this is what Nate would have wanted for his little brother and his best friend. I know that he would have given us a rash of shit if things ended up this way and he was still here, but he would have been happy for the two of us. Dare deserves the world after all of the stuff he has had to go through, and I intend to spend the rest of my life making sure that he always feels safe, loved, and never alone.

Epilogue 2

Darian

Eight years later

“Hey,” I say, sliding under Lev’s arm as he stands on the patio with his seltzer and lime, looking out over the backyard. Screams and giggles and laughter carry over from the people splashing around in the pool, and I smile inwardly at the craziness that is now our life.

“Hey yourself,” Lev responds, planting a kiss on my temple and pulling me closer as he closes the lid to the grill.

“Everyone seems to be having a good time,” I tell my husband, moving my hand to his ass and swatting his cheek.

Yes, I said husband. Lev proposed to me five years ago, on the dock at sunset. I cried like a baby, and of course, I said yes. We were married four years ago, at the same spot.

“Watch it!” Julian yells as he opens the screen door and joins us on the patio. “You’re going to make me jealous.” We turn our attention to him as he pulls a very pregnant Lindsey through the door and into our small circle.

Lindsey smacks his chest. “Please,” she says. “As if you want action from this.” She moves her hands up and down her body, signaling to her large baby belly, puffy lips, and swollen ankles and feet. “That’s why we’re in this situation in the first place,” she says, smiling at him.

My sister-in-law is eight months pregnant and sort of—okay very—uncomfortable. We planned our anniversary celebration knowing that she and Julian may have had a baby by now, but much to Lindsey’s disdain, the bun is still cooking in the oven.

“Let me get you a chair,” I say, pulling away from Lev.

Just as I get Lindsey situated, I hear a shrill scream. Lev and I both go on high alert, knowing exactly where and whom it came from. Opening the gate to the pool, Ryan and Katie’s six-year-old daughter, Lena, is carefully and sweetly holding the hand of our little guy, who just turned the big three years old last month.

“Daaaaa”—hiccup—“Daaaaaddyy Whhyyyyycann,” he cries, and I chuckle. Little Nate has heard Lev call me “lycan” since he was born, and it seems to have stuck. So Dadda and Daddy Lycan—actually Daddy WHYcan because of his little speech thing—it is.

“What happened?” I ask, meeting them in the yard. I kneel down to their level to greet them eye to eye. Little Nate throws himself into my arms as Lena explains to me in a very grown-up way that he stubbed his toe. I stifle a laugh, because it’s obviously a big deal to him, and ask him if I can see it. He holds out his little chubby foot, and I see a tiny red mark on his big toe.

“Oh my goodness!” I exclaim as Lev joins me, sitting with his legs crisscrossed on the grass. “He stubbed his toe,” I tell Lev, and Nate puts on a good show, crying harder, crocodile tears falling down his cheeks. I give his little dirty toe a kiss.

“He did!?” Lev’s eyes get wide as he feigns shock. “Let me see.” He reaches out and takes Nate’s foot into his hand. “Oh, man,” he says, looking at Nate, Lena, and me. “This is very serious. I have to go get the scissors so we can cut it off.”

At that, little Nate squeals and jumps off my lap, grabbing Lena’s hand. Together, they run off to the sprinkler that we’ve set up for them to play in. I sigh. “Another tragedy averted.”

Lev pulls me into him again and kisses my cheek. “What do you say we get these people fed so they can get the heck out of here and we can celebrate properly?” I turn toward him and smile. That damn dimple of his is slightly less noticeable because of his stubbly face, but it’s still there and still perfect. I stick my tongue into it and then follow it up with a kiss as Lev hums. He takes his hand off my thigh, stands, and reaches down to help me up. Then we head to the grill and start plating up hamburgers and hot dogs.

After the chaos is all over and everyone’s eaten way too much food, we clean up and say our goodbyes to our friends and family. Then we get Nate into the bathtub. He’s tired from a long day of being outside and running around, and the pool always zaps his energy.

This is good news, because my husband and I have plans. Or at least, I have plans for Lev.

We read Nate his books and give him kisses and warm milk and tuck him in.

“Night, Daddy Wycan. Night Dadda,” he says in his adorable little voice. “I wuv you.”