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Same tattoos.

Same crooked smile.

Same inability to behave inside a library.

He rebuilds Rosie’s block tower.

“Try again, Rebel Junior.”

“I’m not raising her to answer to that.”

“Too late.”

Rosie climbs onto his back. “Motorcycle!”

“No motorcycle.”

“Daddy.”

“No.”

“Pleeeeease.”

“Nope.”

This from the man who bought her a tiny black leather jacket for her third birthday.

There’s also a child-sized helmet sitting beside his in the garage.

He checks the strap three times whenever she wears it.

Ryder still rides too fast when he’s alone.

With Rosie, he drives like he’s transporting explosives.

Some wounds don’t disappear.

They just turn into different kinds of love.

“Aunt Lila says I can ride a horse,” Rosie announces.

Ryder straightens. “When?”

“Tonight.”

“She said pony.”

“Horse.”

“We’re calling your aunt.”

I smile. Rosie is spending the night with Lila and Dane.

Which is convenient.

Because there’s a positive pregnancy test hidden in my purse.

I’ve known since this morning.