Page 90 of Midnight Salvation

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you here, honey. My boys, they told me you’re okay, but I worry, you know? You can always talk to me about anything.”

I take a drink of the iced tea, letting the sounds of the cicadas and the breeze rustling the leaves in the trees ground me. I’ve been anxious and jumpy ever since the little showdown at Three Crowns Tavern yesterday. I wanted to come get Hunter right away, but Silas convinced me that showering, eating, and sleeping needed to happen first.

He wasn’t wrong, even if I grumbled about it the whole time.

I exhale and try to articulate why I’m still feeling like there’s a hoard of wasps cruising around inside of me, occasionally stopping to sting me.

“It’s just, we got the bad guys, right? And the guy who was stalking me. And my mother seems to have relented, at least for this week. So why am I still feeling all . . .” I flap my hand around, trying and failing to find the right words to describe what I’m feeling. “It’s just, now it’s real, you know. This thing between me . . . and them. And now there’s nothing to distract us from the fact that we’re in an extremely unconventional relationship.”

“Do you love my boys?”

“Yes,” I reply easily.

“Then the rest is easy,” she says, patting my leg with affection.

“What if it’s not though? What if I mess up? Or mess Hunter up? I’m not a mother.” Emotion swells inside my throat, making it hard to breathe.

Dixie arches a brow. "Who says you're not?"

A wry laugh falls from my lips. "Uh, everyone?"

Dixie places her cup down on the table to the right and reaches over to clasp my hand. “Motherhood isn’t defined by biological records or length of time or any other arbitrary definition we place on things. It’s a feeling. A conviction. A desperate need to do anything and everything you can to protect your child.”

Tears prick my eyes as I let Dixie’s words roll over me in a cool wave. They’re a soothing balm to the cracked and bleeding parts of my soul. I listen to her voice talk about motherhood as I watch Hunter and Nova race around the front yard, jumping over imaginary obstacles as they play super heroes.

At some point, Silas joins in on the fun, chasing both of them around and growling like he’s some kind of animal. I’m not entirely sure he understands the game they’re playing, but he’s having fun.

And eventually, Bane brings out a kickball and some plastic bases. Dixie and I watch as the three grown men squabble like children over foul balls and bad plays while Hunter tries to coach them diplomatically.

I love every single second of it.

And for the first time in my life, I’m grateful for every hardship I faced. Every disparaging comment from my mother. Every holiday spent alone. I’m thankful for each and every low point in my life, because it led me there, to them. And it was worth every second.

Epilogue - Silas

Later

"Hello?" I call out the moment my feet cross the threshold of our house. Anxiety tightens my gut when no one responds right away.

The abduction left a mark on me that no amount of time has been able to erase. And since our house is big as hell to fit our entire family comfortably, as unconventional as it is, it’s nearly impossible to be heard everywhere. Though Evie usually tries to be close by so she can holler when I come home. But she’s been distracted lately, and with good reason.

Instead of that rationale soothing me, it only amps up my anxiety.

"Evie? Hunter? I'm home," I yell, pitching my voice louder. Not that it would fucking matter if she was on the other side of the house.

I toe off my work boots, shuffling them to the side of the entryway where Evie and Hunter's one-of-a-kind bench. It's sage green with hand-painted daisies on the sides.

The low hum of air conditioning pumping through the vents answers me, but it does nothing to cool the sweat stuck to my skin.

I stalk through the house on a mission, looking for my wife and son. The kitchen and living room both turn up empty, which usually means one place: the home theatre.

It was one of the only things Bane insisted on when we built this house. He watches more movies than anyone I know. I might’ve protested at the pretentiousness of it all, but even I can admit it’s a great space. We find ourselves in there more than the living room or any other place outside of our respective bedrooms.

The sounds of some lyrical singing comes from the open door to the theatre room. It fills the hallway and I can just make out the words to the song Hunter’s been singing nonstop for the last two weeks.

I stop inside the threshold of the door, giving myself time to take in the sight before me. To calm my racing heart with the sight of them sprawled out on the modular couch in the middle of the room. Soft snores punctuate the mellow melody of the song, and I let out a sigh of relief.

It's this unspoken agreement the three of us made a few months ago after the waffle debacle. Nova had mentioned Evie's recent snoring habits as she was plating chocolate chip Belgian waffles her and Hunter had made. But by the way she reacted, you would've sworn he told her she shits the bed every night. She glared at him and fixed her and Hunter's plates like nothing happened. Then she left the three of us in the kitchen, hungry and waffle-less. To add insult to injury, Hunter raved about those waffles for two fucking weeks.

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