9. Epilogue: Brady

9

EPILOGUE – brADY

FOUR YEARS LATER

M y knees creak as I crouch beside the flower bed, watching Lily’s small hands press seeds into the dark soil. She’s got dirt under her fingernails and a look of fierce concentration on her face that reminds me so much of her mother. So does the determined set to her jaw and the way her tongue pokes out just slightly when she’s focused.

“Gentle, sweetheart,” I murmur, guiding her tiny fingers. “Just like Mama showed us.”

The flower bed stretches along the edge of the yard now, much bigger than that first patch Claire planted years ago. I fought her on that original bed, but these days I’m the one suggesting new spots where things might grow. Like everything else in our life together, it’s grown deeper roots than I ever expected.

Claire kneels nearby, her rounded belly visible beneath her oversized sweater—one of my old ones she’s claimed as her own. Seven months along with our second child, and somehow she’s even more beautiful than the day I married her. Pregnancy suits her, making her curves even more gorgeous and giving her an extra radiant glow. The sight of her like this, caring for our daughter while carrying our next child, fills me with fierce pride.

“Look, Daddy!” Lily holds up a seed for my inspection. “This one has stripes!”

“Sure does, Princess.” I catch Claire’s eyes over our daughter’s head, and the love I see shining in them hits me as hard as ever. After all this time, all we’ve built together, my wife can still make my heart race with just a look.

Claire shows Lily how to space out the seeds, her patience never wearing thin no matter how many times our daughter gets distracted by passing butterflies or interesting rocks. I watch them together, these two pieces of my heart, and marvel at how complete my life has become.

“Time for water!” Lily announces, grabbing her miniature pink watering can. Before either of us can stop her, she upends it with innocent excitement, thoroughly soaking the seeds, the soil, and our shoes.

Claire laughs, a bright sound that hits me deep in the chest. “Well, they definitely won’t be thirsty,” she says, smoothing our daughter’s untamed curls. “Should we get some more water for the rest?”

“More water!” Lily says, bouncing eagerly.

“Easy there, wild thing,” I say, steadying her. “Let’s not drown them.”

Claire catches my hand, using it to help herself up. Even this casual touch sends warmth through me.

“Speaking of water,” she says, “your son is practicing his swimming routine.” She guides my palm to her belly, and sure enough, I feel the strong kicks.

I’m about to pull my wife closer when the sound of approaching footsteps catches our attention. Logan and Sierra are walking over from their place, the twins bouncing along between them. Lily spots her cousins and lets out a shriek of joy, abandoning her watering can and taking off toward them at top speed.

The three kids collide in a tangle of limbs and laughter, then immediately start chasing each other around the grounds. Their joyous shouts echo across the property, bringing extra life to the peaceful state of the ranch.

I keep my hand on Claire’s lower back as Logan and Sierra join us. My son’s got his arm around Sierra’s waist, her own belly starting to show at five months along. The sight of both our wives pregnant at once, our family growing in tandem, feels right in a profound way.

Logan catches my eye, and a look passes between us—pride, gratitude, understanding. We’ve built something good here, something that matters. Something worth every moment of work we’ve put into it.

“How’s the morning sickness?” Claire asks Sierra, running a hand over her own bump. “Still giving you trouble?”

“No, it’s finally easing up, thank goodness,” Sierra says. “Although this one’s giving me weird cravings. I had Logan drive into town at midnight last week for beef-flavored chips.”

“Could be worse,” Logan chimes in, grinning. “Remember when Claire made Dad go looking for jalape?o jelly during her first pregnancy?”

“Hey now,” Claire protests, laughing. “Lily turned out perfect, didn’t she?”

I pull my wife closer, pressing a kiss to her temple. “That she did.”

As if summoned by her name, our daughter comes racing back, the twins hot on her heels.

“Snacks!” they declare. “We need snacks!”

“I could definitely use a snack too,” Claire says, patting her belly. “Your little brother is hungry again.” She looks up at me with a teasing glint in her eye. “Maybe some jalape?o jelly on vanilla ice cream?”

“Don’t even joke about that,” I growl playfully, earning another of her laughs.

We start heading toward the house, our small parade led by three exuberant children. Claire walks beside me, fitting against my side like she was made to be there. Every day, I thank the course of destiny that brought her to my ranch, made her plant those first flowers, and gave me a second chance at love.

Before following them inside, I glance back at the freshly planted flower bed. Come summer, it’ll be bursting with color—blues and purples and yellows all tangled together. Like that first patch of flowers Claire planted, it’s more than just decoration. It’s proof of how life can take root in unexpected places, growing deeper and richer than you ever dreamed possible.

I never thought I’d have this again—a full house, a warm and open heart, a future bright with promise. Never thought I’d find someone who could break down my hard walls and build something beautiful in their place. But Claire did exactly that, with the same patience and care she shows our flowers. She planted herself in my life and bloomed there, bringing color and life to places I thought would stay dark forever.

Standing here, listening to the mixture of adult laughter and children’s chatter inside the house, I know I’ve been given more than just a second chance at happiness. I’ve been given everything I never knew I wanted, everything I never dared to dream I deserved.

And I’m going to spend the rest of my days cherishing it.

Thank you so much for reading Hard Bred!

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