Epilogue

Madeline

S ix Years Later

"You are in so much trouble, Drake Whitlock!" I cry, storming into his office with the baby in my arms and a scowl on my face.

He glances up at me from his desk, his eyes wide. "Whatever it is, I probably did it, and I'm sorry."

"Oh, you definitely did it." I stomp across the room toward him. "The school just called."

"Shit." He actually looks nervous now. Good. He should.

"Our daughter was in the principal's office."

"What did she do?"

"Where did you take her last night, Whitlock?"

He gulps, his gaze sliding from mine. "For ice cream?"

"Try again."

"I can explain, unicorn."

"Oh, really?" I adjust the baby in my arms. "You can explain why our five-year-old daughter drew her Halloween decorations having S-E-X and drinking beer while all the other kids drew theirs chilling in the front yard?"

"Fuck," he whispers, drawing the word out.

"You are so lucky that the principal helps steal the decorations and knew what was happening!" I growl. "Livvie didn't have a clue. She probably thought we were crazy sex people."

"Crazy sex people?" He rises from the desk, circling around to me with a smile tugging at his lips. "I do not want to know where your mind went, unicorn."

"I saw a movie once."

"Was it porn?"

"Maybe. That's beside the point." I narrow my eyes on him. "Stop trying to change the subject, Drake Whitlock. Why did you take her out there? She's way too young to see all of that!"

He knows I'm not wrong. Six years ago, there were hundreds of decorations out there. Now, there are hundreds more. And none of them are doing anything appropriate for a five-year-old's eyes.

Now that Drake spends a lot more time socializing in town, we've slowly started finding out who helps steal the decorations. He was surprised by some of the confessions—and not so surprised by others. But with every conversation and every apology, another wound closes. The bullied little boy who felt like an outcast finds a little more closure. The beautiful man who shut himself away carves out a little more room in town for himself.

Six years later, I think Drake remembers the good memories more than the bad now. I love that so much for him. And I love it for me, too. He's so damn confident and sexy. And he gets more confident every year.

His confidence is rubbing off on me. I doubt I'll ever walk into a haunted house. We'll never have creepy decorations in the yard. But living in a Halloween town isn't nearly as overwhelming as it was six years ago.

We actually celebrate Halloween in this house now. How could we not? It's no longer the day associated with our trauma. It's the day I placed my hand in his, and our lives changed forever.

I don't regret that decision or a single second of the last six years. Our life is nothing like the life my parents lived. We're happy in a way I never imagined possible. Every day is so full of love and laughter, I feel like I'm floating through the air.

Drake and our kids are my entire world—and we're his world, too. He loves us so perfectly. Because of him, our life is loud and chaotic and full of adventure. I love every single thing about it.

Except maybe the fact that our daughter is drawing Halloween decorations fucking. That's definitely not on my top ten all-time favorites list.

"The ice cream parlor put up their Halloween display," he mutters, brushing his hand over the baby's head before cupping my cheek. "It had spiders, unicorn." He stares at me somberly. "You know how she feels about spiders."

I do know. She inherited my fear. Or, more likely, she's heard me ranting about them often enough and picked up on it, but we're going with Option A because it makes me feel less guilty. The point is, she's scared to death of spiders.

One thing Drake won't allow is anything to scare or hurt his girls. He never has, and he never will. My parents are forbidden from stepping foot in this house. Drake refuses to budge on that rule. Honestly, I kind of love it. The only time we see them is at holidays, and Drake and I make sure they don't do to our kids what they did to me. When one of them tries, my husband puts his giant foot down.

My parents don't like it, but they're slowly learning not to cross our boundaries if they want to keep us in their lives.

"You stole the spiders?" I ask Drake, my voice softening as my heart flutters.

"Steele and Jack may have helped."

Why am I not surprised that they were involved? Of course they were. Anytime Jack comes over from Silver Spoon Falls, he's up to no good. And Steele, well, I don't know how the man survived being a Ranger because he was born up to no good.

"I want to be mad at you right now," I mutter to my husband. But I can't be mad at him. Of course they stole the spiders for Winnie. And, of course, they took her out to the display field to let her put them with the hundreds of others he's stolen for them.

They have their own damn section now—right under the upraised foot of a giant skeleton dressed in a dinosaur costume.

"I thought she'd be less afraid if she got to see them in a new light, unicorn." He grimaces. "I didn't think about the other shit until we were already there. I did not expect her to fucking draw anything she saw out there."

"She draws everything she sees, Drake. She's five!"

"How pissed is Livvie?" he asks, referring to her teacher. She's barely out of college and as innocent as they come.

"Livvie has questions." I smirk at him. "You get to explain at the next parent-teacher conference."

He practically squirms on his feet.

Livvie will be scandalized. He'll be mortified. Serves him right for stressing me out today. But I'm not mad at him. How can I be when he was just trying to help?

I swear, the man can do no wrong in my eyes.

Cole whimpers, and Drake eases him out of my arms, carrying him over to his bassinet before carefully easing him down. Our boy immediately settles, stretching out across the bed like a little starfish.

Drake watches him for a minute, chuckling, before he prowls back toward me, pulling me into his arms. "You ready to forgive me yet?"

"Depends," I mumble, nuzzling my face against his throat.

"On what?"

I brush my hand down his chest, pressing my body against his. "How badly you want to act out that movie I saw…"

"Crazy sex people?"

"Mmhmm." I wrap my hand around his cock, tipping my head back to smirk up at him. "Crazy sex people in Halloween costumes, Drake."

"How crazy are we talking, unicorn?" he asks, his eyes dark with desire. "Because I've got about ninety ideas already."

I lean up on my tiptoes, pulling his head down to whisper a summary of the movie in his ear. I don't even make it through the second sentence of the plot before he's swinging me up into his arms with a growl.

I squeal, clinging to him as he grabs the baby monitor and storms out of the office, breathing hard.

"Fuck the costumes," he growls, pressing me up against the wall in the hallway a few feet from the door. His mouth comes down on mine, his kiss hard. "I don't need them to make you come all over me."

He's right. He doesn't need them. By the time he's done with me, I'm a quivering, wrung-out mess.

"I love you, unicorn," he breathes in my ear, holding me close as we come down together.

"I love you too." Tears sting my eyes as I cling to him, so damn grateful that he's mine and this is my life—naughty Halloween drawings, scandalized kindergarten teachers, and all.