Page 40 of Saint’s Revenge

I step into his arms. Let him hold me under the spray. Let the water wash away the tears and the grief and everything except this moment.

"Yeah," I whisper against his chest. "I'm ready."

Tomorrow we'll say goodbye to Daniel.

Tomorrow we'll let ourselves grieve properly.

Tomorrow we'll start healing.

But tonight, right now, we're just Lucas and Riley.

Finally together after five years apart.

Finally whole.

Finally home.

Epilogue - Riley

Five Years Later

The backyard is chaos.

Beautiful, loud, messy chaos.

I stand on the back porch of the house, our house, still not believing we own this place, and watch the mayhem unfold. The lawn stretches out for half an acre, bordered by trees that provide shade on hot days like this. Lucas insisted on the big yard when we were house hunting three years ago. Said he wanted space for kids to run.

He was right.

Currently, there are approximately ten children tearing around the grass in various states of sugar-induced madness. Grace is leading a pack of them in some elaborate game that involves a lot of shrieking. Mariah is organizing another group near the swing set Lucas built last summer. And right in the middle of it all, wearing a purple tutu over her jeans and a plastic tiara that's sitting crooked on her dark curls, is my daughter.

Our daughter.

Emma Brennan turns three years old today.

I watch her chase after the older kids, her little legs pumping as fast as they can go, that infectious laugh carrying across the yard. She has Lucas's brown eyes and my nose. His smile and my stubborn streak.

"You okay?"

I turn to find Eden standing beside me, holding a plate piled high with cake. She's got frosting on her cheek and doesn't seem to care.

"Yeah." I smile. "Just taking it all in."

"It's a lot to take in." She gestures at the yard with her fork. "Pretty sure we're violating at least three noise ordinances right now."

"Probably." I accept the piece of cake she offers me. "Worth it though."

"Definitely worth it." Eden leans against the porch railing. "Emma looks happy."

"She's having the time of her life." I watch Emma tackle one of the boys in what I think is supposed to be a hug but looks more like a rugby move. "Lucas taught her that."

"Of course he did." Eden laughs. "Canvas taught our oldest how to give tattoos with washable markers. Now every flat surface in our house has stick figures on it."

We stand there eating cake and watching the kids destroy the yard. The brothers are scattered around: some manning the grill, some playing cornhole, some just drinking beer and supervising from a safe distance.

Lucas is in the middle of the lawn, crouched down next to Emma, helping her fix her tiara. She's talking animatedly, hands waving, and he's nodding seriously like whatever she's saying is the most important thing in the world.

"He's a good dad," Eden says.