EPILOGUE 2

EPILOGUE 2

KADE - 2 years later

“Pass me the flathead screwdriver.”

Roman Tobias Michell, my eighteen-month-old son, stares at his grandfather while he holds up the instruction manual he just spilled juice all over. He throws the papers at my dad then runs away giggling as Milo follows him across the yard.

I laugh and shake my head as Dad scowls at the back of my son’s head.

“I told you – you need to stop letting Roman near Barry’s kids.”

“He’s one and has you wrapped around his finger.”

He just grunts, because he knows I’m right. Barry and Dez are helping Ewan with the plastering inside the house I built for me, Stacey and our son while my dad and I build a tree house for all the kids to play in.

Stacey has nearly fifty picture frames of my sketches to hang up – as soon as I was in the right state of mind, I bought a new sketchbook and didn’t stop until my hand hurt. My therapist is proud of me. He’s encouraging me to keep walking the path I’m on. It’s a path of accepting who I am, my past, my present, in order to claim my future.

And, man, my future is looking really fucking good.

Who knew Kade Mitchell would have a chance at happiness? I’m still coming to terms with it all.

Hopper, sadly, passed away six months ago. His heart just gave up in his sleep, and Milo hasn’t been the same since. Fuck, I don’t think me and Stacey have been the same since. If it wasn’t for Roman, I think Milo would’ve died of a broken heart the same day. He’s old – I don’t think he has very long left, so we make the most of the time we do have with him.

He’s my son’s best friend.

We found out a week after my release that Stacey was pregnant – she was sick a lot, slept a lot and needed my cock a lot, and me being the doting partner I am, I gave her every inch.

We got married a year ago. We didn’t want anything big and fancy – my family and Kyle all met up in Greece, and we got married on the same beach where I told her I was in love with her. Base carried Roman down the aisle with the rings. The twins were our flower girls, and Barry, Dez and Base were my best men while Tylar and Luciella stood beside Stacey.

She’s always been beautiful, but seeing her walking towards me with her hand in my father’s, a bright smile on her face, the mother of my child and my entire future, I knew I’d won at life.

I wanted my nephew to be there, but Gianna is still being strict. I’ve only met Jason Junior in person three times. Three. And one of those times was accidental. Me and Stacey bumped into them in the mall, and I could tell she was uncomfortable as I greeted my brother’s son and tried not to break down.

He was nervous, and I didn’t want him nervous, so we set up a video call with them a few days later. And since then, he’s always calling me. And what makes it even better is that he’s just like his dad. The missing part of me that was stolen in a smaller form.

I’ll do everything to protect that kid, even if the visits will stay virtual until his mother feels comfortable enough for him to be fully in my life. It’s still hectic. I refuse every interview, threaten to beat the shit out of people who try to stop us in the street and ask Stacey rude questions, and the social media experience has been extreme.

I’m never on my socials now. Ever.

Stacey uses her platform for charities and for her studios. They always do shows now in the theatres, and my girl even performed a fire dance before we found out she was pregnant with our second.

I toss my dad the screwdriver, and we watch Milo and Roman play on the grass in front of us. He only just started walking – but all he does is run. It gives me a fucking heart attack half the time.

He’s got Stacey’s eyes. These big green forests staring back at me every night while I read him his bedtime story and he falls asleep on my chest. His hair is as black as mine, and he loves my motorbike, even if he does startle when I start it up.

“The twins were fighting over who got to hold my hand again yesterday,” Dad says. “Surprisingly, they seem to forget I have two hands.”

He’s still dead to the world – though I honestly think since he barely hides, they know and just leave him to it. He and Mum found their common ground when the twins were born. He still flirts with her, and she still rolls her eyes at him, but they’re friends more than anything else now. Maybe they finally grew up and stopped thinking it was perfectly acceptable to fuck around when she’s married.

But then again, they still love each other, so who knows.

“When do Desmond and Tylar leave?”

“Next month,” I reply. “They travel the world more than anyone I know.”

“I’d get bored.”

I laugh, catching Roman as he rushes by me. He giggles as I tickle him and throw him into the air in a way I’m sure Stacey will find terrifying. “I think this one needs a change.” I sniff him and arch my neck away. “Yep. Grandpa, it’s your turn.”

My dad wipes his hands off, lifts Roman, and starts baby-talking to him as he walks back to the house.

The ringing from my phone steals my attention, and I see it’s Luciella. “Hello?” I answer.

“Don’t freak out,” she says, and I get to my feet quickly. “But Stacey’s waters broke in the studio like two minutes ago, and she said the contractions are already coming.”

Fuck. She isn’t due till next month.

“Stacey’s in labour!” I shout to my dad before he vanishes through the front door as I rush by the porch. Ewan and Dez appear and wish me and Stacey luck, but I’m already at my car in a panic of excitement and fear, remembering how exhausted Stacey was when Roman was born – she’d been in labour for nearly two days and had screamed until her throat went harsh.

I’m behind the wheel and backing out of the drive as I ask, “Where are you?”

“I’m driving us to the hospital now.” There’s a long groan in the background. “Oh, okay, just breathe. Yeah, she’s definitely contracting, Kade. Please hurry. I’m nearly there.”

I hang up the phone and fuck the law as I speed. I intentionally made sure we lived close to everything we needed. We have my parents two streets over in their new home, which is a lot smaller than the manor. I bought the plot of land and got to work on it as soon as we found out Stacey was pregnant with Roman.

It takes me fifteen minutes to reach the hospital, and I dodge multiple people as I run through the maternity ward while wiping my hands on my jeans. I push open the door to the stairs and take them two at a time until I’m on the floor I need.

“Stacey Mitchell,” I say, breathless. “Where is she?”

“Delivery room five, sir. Are you the father?”

“Yes,” I reply and hunt down the room.

I push open the door and see Stacey on the edge of the bed with her hands on her lower back while she does her breathing exercises. She turns her head in my direction and lets out a sigh of relief. “You made it.”

I’m by her side in a second, taking her hands. “How do you feel?”

“Like my body is breaking from the inside.”

I move a strand of hair from her face. “You’ve got this.”

She grimaces through a contraction and drops her head to my shoulder, a groan following. “They’re coming faster than with Roman,” she cries. “Oh God. It hurts.”

Luciella rises from her chair. “I’ll go,” she says. “You’ve got this, Stacey.” Then her eyes land on me. “She might actually break your hand this time.”

I huff a laugh as my twin sister leaves the room. The midwife talks to Stacey while filling in forms. Then they give me oils to rub on the bottom of her back while the contractions get stronger, until she’s screaming in agony and gripping on to me for dear life.

I wish I could take this pain from her – I fucking hate seeing my girl hurting. She’s crying and screaming as the contractions get closer together, until she tells the midwife she needs to lie on the bed.

We get her on it, and my heart is fucking racing as they keep checking our baby’s heart rate and how dilated Stacey is.

“If you have the urge to push, then push. Just like last time.”

Stacey grits her teeth as another contraction hits, and I stand by the bed as she grips my hand, kissing her forehead and temple, telling her how well she’s doing, how fucking strong she is as she starts pushing.

My fingers are near breaking, but I’ll happily let the bones shatter – it’ll be miniscule compared to what she’s going through right now.

“I can see the head!” the midwife says excitedly, but I don’t dare go down and look, remembering Stacey nearly choked me for trying with Roman. I stay put, kissing her more and wiping her forehead and gritting my own teeth as her hold tightens.

“One big push!”

Stacey’s body tenses everywhere as she holds her breath and pushes like she’s never pushed before, and I think I might pass out.

“Okay now the shoulders. Another push, sweetheart.”

Stacey pushes again, her face red and soaked in sweat, her hair sticking to her forehead as I move it behind her ears.

Then I hear the cries of our secondborn, and my heart grows a little in my chest when the midwife lifts the baby to Stacey’s chest. “A beautiful baby girl,” she says. “With a full head of hair,” she adds with a huge smile.

Stacey has tears in her eyes, and so do I as we fuss over our daughter. Another daughter. Our guardian angel is watching over us, protecting her siblings. Roman, and now a girl with dark hair who’s wrapping her little fingers around my pinkie, and I melt into a puddle as I kiss Stacey. “Thank you,” I say to her. “You did amazing.”

She beams as the nurse works on her, her cheeks soaked, as if all the pain she was just in vanishes when she smiles down at our daughter.

Her bottom lip is trembling, and I know she’s thinking of our baby girl we lost.

“I love you,” I tell her. “I’m so proud of you. Thank you for giving me everything I’ve ever wanted. You. A son. A daughter. A life with you.”

“I love you too,” she replies, her voice breaking.

“Did you have a name picked out?” one of the nurses asks as she wheels over the baby scales and observation machine.

“Daisy Mitchell,” Stacey says, sniffing and kissing her head, looking up at me. “She’s our Daisy Mitchell.”