Page 154 of Sweet Distraction

“No,” I say honestly. “I’m wrecked. I’m elated. I’m every damn thing I didn’t know how to want.”

I cup her cheek, stroke my thumb over her jaw.

“We’re her home now,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

I nod.

“And you’re mine.”

Her breath catches. I dip my head, brush my lips across hers, slow and steady.

“Let me show you how I love you,” I murmur.

“I’m not saying no to that.”

She kisses me again to show she means it. Like we both already know that isn’t the end.

It’s the beginning.

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

Rocket

I’m sitting in the same tattoo chair I sat in when I got the poppy.

The same buzz of the machine. I feel the same nerves. And I don’t give a fuck who’s sitting in the other seats wanting to take a picture this time around.

I’m not hiding shit from anyone.

Willow’s here, sitting on the same black leather couch with Poppy on her lap, feeding her yogurt bites while talking about the pictures in the magazine she’s holding to teach her new words.

I glance down at my chest.

Fresh ink beside the poppy.

Three words, in script—Whatever it takes.

It’s not a lyric. It’s a vow.

A memory. A future promised. A reminder kept.

When it’s over, I walk to them—my family—shirt slung over my shoulder and lean down to press a kiss to Willow’s lips.

She stares at the ink, at the words that tell her what she means to me—and then smiles up at me.

“You’re kind of a softie now,” she whispers.

“Yeah,” I murmur, kissing her again. “But only for you.”

EPILOGUE

Rocket

The backyard looks like a damn Pinterest board exploded.

Twinkling lights strung from the trees. White tablecloths with black graduation caps in every variation as decor. A photo wall with blown-up pictures of Willow—a nerdy middle schooler in braces and glasses. An undergrad with her nose buried textbooks. A Poppy asleep on her chest with her laptop beside her as she studies.

Hendrix helped organize all of this. The flowers. The food. The old school pictures from Mrs. Adams. Gizmo, no doubt, spiked the punch, which has been moved to a different counter so the little ones don’t accidentally dip into it.