Epilogue

Lydia

Two Months Later

Mable stares at me with a narrowed gaze. “You never think about what happened to Dillon?”

I don’t think about it because I know. Well, I don’t know , but I have a pretty good idea. I mean, Dillon disappeared the same night I heard two-gun shots, and then Ink made this weird statement about loving him no matter what he had to do to protect me. I’m not the smartest detective, but I put things together on this pretty quickly.

“No. He’s gone. Whatever happened, happened. I’m sure he’s out there messing up someone else’s life.”

Mable looks at me like a deer in headlights. I know she hates Dillon as much as I do, but I’m not sure she likes the fact that I’m so blase about him disappearing. I’ve thought about bringing it up to Ink on multiple occasions, but he’s keeping it secret for a reason and I figure the less I know, the better.

“The big, tough guy is rubbing off on you,” Mable jokes. “How are you feeling? You ready for your baby shower next week?”

I rub my hand over my stomach. I’m eight months along tomorrow and I couldn’t be more ready to get this baby out of me. “Yeah! Thanks for putting everything on. I’m excited to unwrap all the little dresses and bows.”

Mabel squeals. “You’re so lucky! I mean, I was jealous about your wedding. It was perfect! But this… this is my dream.”

Ink and I married the weekend after we ruined his garden. In fact, we said our vows in the garden— after we did some replanting . Only a few people attended. The MC, a few close friends and family, and my boss at the hardware store. Well, my old boss. I don’t work there anymore. Now I spend my days at school and my nights making soup and brownies. I don’t hate it.

“You’ll have babies someday,” I say, reaching out to comfort Mable. She’s only in her mid-twenties. She’s got plenty of life left to live, but I get the antsy aspect of it all. Society puts so much pressure on us to have our lives figured out by the time we’re her age. It’s not fair. I didn’t know my head from my ass when I was that young. Hell, I didn’t know my head from my ass when I was thirty-five.

“I know.” Mable sighs. “I just… my dad is driving me crazy. I went on a date last week and he sat on the lawn with a shotgun until I came back. I’m grown, Lydia. I don’t know how to stop him. He really thinks he controls me, and I don’t know what to do about it. Besides that, I need adventure. Something real, ya know?”

“Like what?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe I need a big, bad man like you have. Someone who’ll take me out and show me a good time. You think you can find me one?”

I know lots of big, bad men now, but I’m not sure I’d want any of them hanging around with Mable. Mable is the definition of innocent. She’s soft, she’s sweet, she doesn’t put up a fight, and I’m pretty sure the closest thing she’s ever had to a kiss is when her dog leans in to lick her lips.

“What about speed dating? Have you checked that out?”

She laughs. “Yeah, no. Why would I want to see twelve weirdos at once?”

I laugh. “What about that marriage thing? The soul mate mail order thing?”

Her laughter elevates in both frequency and pitch. “You hate me, don’t you?”

Ink walks in the front door. His sleeves are rolled up, and he’s covered in dirt. I’m like Pavlov’s dog when I see him this way. There’s something about a dirty, hardworking man that just does it for me.

He nods toward Mable, says hello, then strides toward me, sweeping me up in his arms with a kiss.

“You ready, Bunny?”

“Ready for what?”

“You have a doctor’s appointment in an hour. We have to move. You’ll be late.”

“Shoot! I swear this pregnancy fog thing is real. I forgot my last two appointments, and I left all the kids’ paperwork at school, so I’ll be correcting it tomorrow morning.”

Mable grabs her sweater off the hook by the door. “Well, soon you’ll be on maternity leave. How are you dealing with all that? A substitute in your classroom for six whole weeks? You’ll die.”

“Well, actually, I’ve decided to stay home for a couple of years.” I rub my hand over my stomach. “We’re gonna keep cranking these babies out and one of us needs to be here.”

Mabel’s face lights up like she’s happy, but I can see deep down that I’ve said the wrong thing.

“You’ll get there, too.” I squeeze her hand before she walks out the door. “I promise. You’re young. We’ll figure this out together.”

Her lip quivers and she wipes away a tear. “I’m sorry. I’m really happy for you. Honestly, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ll catch you later.” She rushes out to her car and a heavy guilt sinks into my stomach.

“Is she okay?” Ink stares down at me. “Did I say something?”

“No, it was me. Well, it wasn’t anyone. She’s just… she’s ready to start her life and do this, ya know? A husband and kids… but her dad is giving her a hard time. He wants her to stay on the farm and be his little girl forever. I don’t think he’s been right after his wife died, so Mable gets the brunt end of it.”

Ink drags in a deep breath. “That sucks. I could go talk to him.”

“Yeah, not sure that would make sense. He doesn’t know you.”

“Still, I like to help.”

I laugh and wrap myself in his arms. “I’ve got to use the bathroom quick, then we can head out to the doctor’s office.”

He kisses my forehead. “Okay. Hurry, we’re running late.”

I give him a playful slap and turn away, walking like a sloth toward the bathroom as I laugh.

This bathroom and the master bathroom have both been recently renovated. Ink has replaced the counters, the sinks, the toilets, and the tile that surrounds the tub. He’s even worked on adding a new bedroom to the back of the house, but I think that’ll take some time to finish given the speed we’re moving. That’s okay, though. The baby needs to sleep in our room for a while, anyway.

I do my business and stand from the toilet, balancing myself with the countertop as I lift. Everything is a slog these days. Sleeping, eating, using the bathroom… the list goes on for what feels like forever. The only thing I haven’t found annoying yet is sex. In fact, just like I read, my sex drive is through the roof, and the second all the morning sickness finally stopped, my desire only got more dramatic.

“Let’s go!” Ink hollers from the kitchen. His tone is commanding like he’s my daddy and I have to move now or a spanking is coming.

I consider missing this appointment all together for that spanking alone. The visit is routine, and I doubt they’ll tell me anything they haven’t told me a hundred times over. Besides that, my friend at the clinic in town lets me pop in for ultrasounds whenever I want. I just saw the baby yesterday. She’s fine.

“Coming!” I shout, moving toward the mirror. God, I’m bloated. Okay, this might be what starves me off from sex. I might be horny, but I’m a horny monster with a bloated face, a swollen belly, and… my tits are leaking.

What? My tits are leaking? Why are my tits leaking?

I pull the fabric away from my breasts and rub my fingers together to feel for consistency. Whatever it is, it’s too dry now for me to feel much, but the way the spots are positioned over my nipples, I know for sure it’s breastmilk.

This isn’t normal, right? I’m still too early for breastmilk.

I lift my phone from the counter and scroll sideways past the list of baby names I’ve been staring at for months. I think we’ve decided to name her Sunny but there’s nothing confirmed yet. I pull up the search bar and click on the box, typing in the question.

‘When does milk production start during pregnancy?’

A slew of results populate, but there’s a general consensus. Milk production can start as early as four months into pregnancy. It’s even more common at eight. I don’t know why, but I thought milk didn’t come in until the baby was born. I should’ve been more prepared for this.

I peel my shirt off, toss it in the hamper, and move through the house toward the back bedroom where I’ve spent the last few weeks moving all my stuff to.

“You okay, Bunny?” Ink lands his hand on my lower back.

I spin toward him with my bra hanging off, my nipples leaking. “Not really. I guess my breastmilk is coming in. Not sure what to do. Now is when I regret not having more girl friends.”

He grins and steps toward me, cupping my swollen breasts in his big hands. “They’re huge. Bigger than they were last night for sure.”

I narrow my brows. “Can they grow that fast? I thought it was a slow process?”

“Apparently not.” He grins, and leans in, licking up the clear fluid that drips from my nipples.

My pussy clenches tight. Never mind about the girl friend’s thing.

His tongue flicks across the sensitive nobs on my chest and he laps up more liquid, slurping until he begins to suck.

I don’t expect the sensations that ravage their way through me. It’s wrong. I shouldn’t love it, but I do, and I want him sucking harder.

I weave my fingers through his hair and stroke the side of his beard as he flicks his tongue and pulls a suction on my breast, drinking my fluids as he palms over my drenched pussy.

Milk drips onto his chin, but he keeps drinking, sucking my milk down as though he can’t get enough.

Why is this turning me on?

It shouldn’t.

His fingers slip behind my panties, and he rubs my clit. “You taste so good, little bunny.”

I trace my finger over the tattoo above his eyebrow, the one that says ‘ferox.’ The lines are thin and faded and there’s a separation between the O and the X that looks off balance.

“I never asked you what this means?”

He flicks his tongue across my swollen tit and slurps at the milk that’s flowing. “Wild. It’s a shit tattoo. I should have it fixed down at Rugged Mountain Ink. I’m sure the guys would do something cool with it.”

“No,” I sigh as he goes back to slurping and playing with my pussy. “I like it.”

Life’s funny. When I saw that guy at the hardware store with the devil on his face, I knew he was going to be bad news. He didn’t have to tell me that. He told me a story with the ink on his face.

In a way, I guess Ink has too. Way before I even knew what that tattoo above his eyebrow meant, he was speaking to me.

This man is wild. The way he talks, the way he acts, the way he fucks me in the dirt like a feral animal, the way he holds my dripping tit in his hand and drinks the milk straight out of me. There’s no doubt about it. Tattoos tell a story, and I can’t wait to spend a lifetime learning every detail of Ink’s.