He looks at his daughters, and I see everything he's feeling written on his face.
The love. The fear. The overwhelming pride.
"But you two—you're the best thing I've ever done. The only thing that matters. And Wrenleigh, watching you grow into this incredible young woman..." His voice cracks. "Your mother would be proud. Hell, I'm proud. So damn proud I don't have words for it."
He raises his beer. "To Wrenleigh. Sweet sixteen. May this year bring you everything you deserve."
"To Wrenleigh!" the room echoes.
I drink, watching Wrenleigh throw herself into her father's arms, watching him hold her tight and whisper something in her ear that makes her laugh and cry at the same time.
That's going to be me, I realize.
Sixteen years from now, I'll be standing in this same clubhouse, raising a glass to my son.
Watching him grow into a man. Wondering where the time went.
The thought should terrify me. It doesn't.
It feels like a promise.
After the toast, the party relaxes into something looser.
People break off into groups—the girls clustering around the photo booth, the brothers gravitating toward the bar, the ol' ladies gathered around Vanna like she's the center of their orbit.
I'm heading to refill my beer when I notice Leah standing near the kitchen doorway.
She's holding a glass of wine and looking... uncertain.
Like she's not quite sure she belongs here.
Before I can go to her, Coin appears at her side.
"Hell of a party," he says, gesturing around the room. "Thanks for coming."
Leah smiles—a little shy, a little awkward. "Garrett invited me. I hope that's okay."
"More than okay." Coin leans against the doorframe, and I notice the way his body angles toward her. Unconscious. Instinctive. "The girls like you. Sadie Jo's been talking about the time you let her listen to a heartbeat with your stethoscope for weeks."
"She was a good assistant." Leah's smile warms. "Very serious about the job."
There's a pause.
The kind of pause that means something.
The kind of pause that's thick with possibility.
"That's healing up nice," Leah says, nodding toward Coin's face. I follow her gaze and see the scar cutting through his eyebrow—still pink and fresh, maybe a month old.
Bar fight, I think.
Or maybe something with the club.
I don't remember the details.
"Yeah, well." Coin touches the scar self-consciously. "Doc at Ruby said I was lucky I didn't lose the eye."
"That would've been a shame." Leah's voice is light, teasing. "It's a nice eye."
