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He chuckled, “Damn. That’s great.”
Gaston asked as he followed me to my SUV, “My granddaughter did what?”
When I told Gaston just what she did, he smiled wide and rubbed his hands together with glee. “I’ll go pick her up. Taking my princess out for ice cream.”
And that was what Gaston did.
But he didn’t do it alone. Nope. Grimm got in on the action and had words with the two little shit’s father and mother.
A week later I got a call and needed to go help a Dove out. Sadly, I had to leave right in the middle of dinner and she made pork chops, mashed potatoes, and green beans too.
Thankfully, the Dove we had to rescue was only two hours away.
Once I pulled my bike into the garage and closed the door, I headed into the mudroom. Toed off my boots, checked the doors and windows, and then once I reset the alarm, I headed to our bedroom, and then stopped in the doorway.
Because right there on our bed was Savannah, Madison, our seven-year-old was curled up to her, and Parker, our eight-and-a-half-year-old, we couldn’t forget the half part, was sprawled out on my side of the bed.
Thank fuck we have a California King.
But I wouldn’t have it any other fucking way.
After having a father who beat me.
A mother who didn’t give a fuck.
Dirt from other countries under my boots.
Nameless faces and dead bodies filling my dreams.
Having my brother’s backs. Protecting their women.
Meeting a woman, and knowing that everything I thought I knew was changed irrevocably.
My woman and our kids, they’re my grace.
And as I climbed into bed behind Parker, my woman lifted her head and smiled at me, “Glad you’re home, Honey, now I can go to sleep.”
And she did. What she never did, was if I left her, did she ever fall asleep without knowing I made it back home to her and in one piece.
The End.
