More memories.
More pictures I thought I’d never see again of the two people I didn’t get to keep. Memories I’ve forgotten. The first pieces of who I was supposed to be.
This isn’t a present.
It’s a treasure.
I throw myself at him, knocking us both to the floor and kissing his face and his hair and his neck and everywhere I can kiss him while I pin him down.
“There’s more,” he adds. “But I could only carry the one box. And…”
“And?”
He pulls his phone out and flips it to show me another picture.
A dark, weirdly-lit picture, of a book in—I swipe my eyes and peer closer.
And I realize I’m staring at a book in an attic.
“It’s a diary,” he explains. “And when we get back to Copper Valley, you and I have some exploring to do at the baseball field.”
“You found things my mom hid?”
“The renovation crew working on the clubhouse ceiling did. I told them to leave it and hold off on fixing things for a few more weeks. So we can look for ourselves to see if there’s anything else.”
This man.
He has my heart. He’s everything I need to soothe every trouble I’ve ever had in my soul. And he’s the hero I never knew I needed.
“I love you,” I tell him as the tears flood my eyes again.
And I do. I love every part of him. His soft parts and his hard parts. His stubborn parts and his easy parts. But mostly, I love all of him.
His arms tighten around me again. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”
“I wouldn’t deserve you if I had.”
He shifts us on the ground so that we’re nose-to-nose. “Will you come back to the Fireballs?”
“So we can fight at work every day?”
Oh, that smile. “Yes.”
And now I’m laughing through my tears. “Are you seducing me with my childhood memories purely for the good of a baseball team?”
He strokes my hair again, drops a kiss on my nose, and then goes serious once more. “I don’t care if you come back to the team so long as you come back to me. And James. And Emma. You go work whatever job makes you happy, Lila. But please, whatever it is, promise you’ll come home to us every night?”
This. This is everything I’ve ever wanted. And so much more.
“Mr. Wilson, I do believe we have a deal.”
Epilogue
Tripp
“Okay, fine, Fireballs Con was a good idea,” I concede to Lila as I stretch out next to her in the front seat of the auditorium where we held a few thousand Fireballs fans captive all day.
Levi, Cash, and Beck all took turns playing master of ceremonies, though Cooper Rock tried to give them a run for their money every time he was handed a microphone, which is even better. The more attention the Fireballs can get, the more tickets we sell, and if it means we mic Cooper up in the dugout and leave him in charge of team spirit, then I’m game.
But everything’s over now, and it feels damn good to know we’re on the right path with the team. The carnage is slowly being swept off the stage, and our four mascot finalists—a firefly, an echidna, a duck, and a flaming meatball—are still running around, battling each other with pool noodle swords.
Mostly because three of them are Cash’s siblings, and the fourth is Wyatt, and they’re making the most of being able to act like kids for once.
Lila smirks at me from under her vintage Fireballs hat. “Of course this was a good idea. Duh.”
“Duh,” James mimics.
My whole family is in matching Fireballs hats and jerseys, all with our own names and favorite numbers on the back, and I had more fun with people today than I have since the band called it quits. We hung out with Fireballs fans and the players and introduced the coaching staff that we’ve argued over so much that my brain hurts, but that I know is going to do an amazing job for the team this year.
And now voting is officially open to replace Fiery.
“I’m still hiring a hacker to prevent the flaming meatballs from winning,” I add.
She laughs and kisses my cheek. “You’re adorable. And wrong. And if you interfere with my meatballs, I’m taking your duck down.”
Truth?
I can’t wait to get home and do something down on her.
She lays her head on my shoulder and her hand drifts to my thigh, and yep.
Time to go home.
I’m about to move when Emma pops up in front of me. “Dada, nake,” she says, and she pulls a garter snake out of her pocket.
“Fuck!” I exclaim before I can stop myself.
Lila shrieks, but she also dives for it while dots dance in my vision and adrenaline paralyzes me.
I. Hate. Snakes.
Which hasn’t been a problem in my adventures in parenting until today.
“Got it,” Lila says, though her voice is shaky too, and only one of the security guards who’s sprinted to us is willing to take it from her.
I hunch over, shove my head between my knees, and then grab my daughter in a hug. “Emma. No snakes. No snakes.”
She bursts into tears.
“What’s all the-aaaaaah!” Levi adds as he, too, leaps away from the guard now carrying the snake.
“Do you have any other snakes in your pocket?” I ask Emma.
She wails.
James starts wailing, and I give him the eyeball of doom. “Or you?” I demand.
“I got a roly-poly,” he sobs.
“Roly-polies are fine,” Lila assures him while I keep gasping for breath.
He pulls seventeen of them out of his pocket.
Pretty sure most of them are dead.
My eye twitches.
And I realize there’s a very distinct sound coming from behind me.
I look over my shoulder.
Lila’s trying very hard not to laugh.
And she’s failing. Miserably.
That sparkle in her eyes as she beams is impossible to not smile back at, even if I can’t imagine my knees working again for the next hour.
“You’re okay,” she tells us, and then she scoops James into her lap as she sits, and manages to wrap all three of us up in her arms. “You’re not in trouble. Just…no more snakes, okay?”
“I wike nakes,” Emma wails.
“Then we’ll get you a stuffed snake.”
I give Lila the eyeball of I don’t like this plan.
She gives me back the eyeball of don’t be a baby and take the damn compromise before you find a snake in your cookie jar.
She’s adapted remarkably well to domestic life with all of my chaos. In fact, I think she thrives on it.
“Daddy, why did Jupiter hafta stay home?” James asks. “Is it time for cookies? I want my twucks.”
“We’ll go see your trucks soon,” Lila promises him. “We have to wait a whole year for the next Fireballs Con, and I’m sad that it’s over. But you get to see your trucks within an hour. Promise.”
He studies her with serious dark eyes. My kids love her best most days. Since she moved in with us, they’re more likely to kick me out of bed for trying to snuggle her early in the morning than they are to snuggle me.
I’d be offended, but honestly, I’d rather snuggle her than me too.