I don’t even care about a house. My gaze finds his, and I stare at him, dumbfounded. “You did this?” I glance around again, unable to believe what I’m seeing.
His face flushes from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “Rocco supervised. He had a crew working day and night to finish before Christmas.” Ethan steps closer and hugs me from behind, his hand cupping my belly protectively. “All I did was give them your Pinterest and approve or deny.”
I relax into his chest, exhausted and overwhelmed but so damn happy. “I think I saved this exact kitchen.”
“You did, but Jackson upgraded the appliances. He had to have a specific gas stove. Reece requested a surveillance room, Lucas needed some fiber-optic network and server, the twins couldn’t live without a gym, and I’m pretty sure Dante snuck in an armory.” He chuckles. “It was a combined effort.”
Weaving my fingers through his, I tighten his arms around me. “And what did you require?”
“You, Jax, and our baby—Reece keeping everyone safe. That’s it.”
Danny’s tiny feet drum on the hardwood, and he bolts past us, heading for the tree. The Viking is right behind him, scooping him up and spinning him in a circle. The room fills with the child’s squeals, bright as the Christmas lights.
“Reece!” Harper chides, though amusement dances in her tone. “Don’t get him sick.”
“King,” Danny insists, his small palm smacking his uncle’s chest.
“You got it, buddy.” Reece nods then gestures toward me. “What’s her name?”
“Roar-a,” the boy says with a growl.
Reece’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Good job. And who’s the big guy behind her?”
Danny’s voice drops to an awestruck whisper, “Baaaat-maaaan.” He stretches each syllable.
Everyone bursts into laughter, Harper included, her eyes welling with tears.
Ethan’s chest rumbles against my back. “Batman, huh? Hopefully I can live up to the hype.”
The familiar sound of the elevator whirs to life, and the floor vibrates beneath our feet. I guess one thing hasn’t changed.
The twins stride in, their arms full of wrapped packages.
“Honey, we’re home!” Desi singsongs, his dark hair dusted with snowflakes. “And we come bearing gifts, becausesomeoneinsisted we go shopping at nine p.m.…on a Saturday…on Christmas Eve Eve.” He shoots Ethan a blank look. “Apparently, we’ve been reassigned?”
Ethan’s arms loosen and drop to his sides. “No you fucking haven’t. Tell Rocco to get his own security detail.”
“Good luck with that,” Dante comments on his way to the tree.
“We can handle both,” Lucas calls out from the mudroom. Unlike the twins, who trample in with their boots on, he always removes his. “We all live in the same building. How much trouble can two girls be?”
When he enters, I cringe. His left eye is a horror show—the white completely consumed by red, the lid puffed and deep purple. I believe the doctor said he had a tear in his retina. Nasty bruises cover his face: sickly yellow-green edge his marred cheekbones while his jawline bears imprints of blue and black.
“Oh my God,” Harper breathes. “What happened?”
He takes off his beanie, unleashing a mass of unruly brown hair. “Work. It’s all good. I’m fine.” His voice is casual, but his shoulders are tense.
Reece sets his nephew on his feet and wraps his partner in a gentle one-arm hug. “Are you sure? You don’t look fine.”
Lucas nods. “We’ll catch up later.” Then, wincing in obvious pain, he bends down to fist-bump Danny.
Jackson hangs his head and turns toward the kitchen, Ethan following with a tight expression. It’ll be difficult for Jax to see Lucas, but as his injuries heal, so will Jackson’s guilt. We’ll all heal together in our new life.
“God, I’m starving,” I announce and pull out a stool.
Jax opens the enormous stainless-steel fridge and assembles ingredients with practiced efficiency—eggs, cheese, bacon, vegetables, and fruits—setting them on the counter. He clears his throat. “Who wants an omelet?”
“You cooking?” Dante asks in jest.
