Jameson
Five Years Later…
Five years ago,I pulled a bleeding, furious, terrified woman out of the back of a moving
truck.
Today, she’s barefoot in my kitchen, singing badly to the radio while flipping pancakes and threatening our kid with a spatula.
Life is wild like that.
I stand in the doorway with a mug of coffee in hand and just… watch her.
Fern’s hair is longer now, lighter from the sun.She has a faint scar on her wrist that never fully faded, but it no longer defines her.It’s part of the story she survived.She wears my old T-shirt like she always does, soft and stretched and unmistakably mine.
And she’s smiling.
Really smiling.
Not the guarded one she wore when she first landed in my arms.Not the careful one she practiced while learning how to be safe.
This one is real.
“Daddy,” a small voice announces from beside me, “Mom says you’re staring again.”
I glance down.
My daughter, my impossible, fierce, stubborn, bright-eyed daughter, has her hands on her hips and my bear’s glare perfected already.She’s four.Too smart.Too bold.Too much like her mother.
“I’m supervising,” I say solemnly.
Olive squints.“She’s fine,” she tells me seriously.
I bite back a laugh.
Fern snorts from the stove.“She’s not wrong.”
I move forward and wrap my arms around my mate from behind, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck.She leans into me without even looking.The bond hums between us, steady and warm and permanent.
“I’ll always supervise you,” I murmur.
“I married a menace,” she replies fondly.
Our daughter clears her throat, and I pull back to look at her.
“I need more syrup.”
Fern laughs and slides her plate across the counter.“Eat your breakfast, wild child.”
I smile as I look at my family.It’s crazy to think it’s already been so long.
Five years.
Five years since the cult fell.
Five years since Midnight Haven stopped being a secret and started being a sanctuary.
Five years since Fern stopped waking from nightmares and started dreaming about the future.
