GENESIS
One year later
"Dash, look at Mommy. Look over here, sweet boy."
I crouched in front of the massive Thanksgiving tree (yes, we kept the Christmas tree up year-round now because Daisy insisted it was "the family tree"), cara raised, trying and failing to get the perfect shot.
Dashiell gave his signature calm, soulful stare, big green eyes blinking slowly, while Isabella (Izzy) was... being Izzy.
She was currently latched onto the back of Kieran’s head like a feral baby monkey, chubby fists buried deep in his hair, yanking with gleeful determination. Kieran, on his knees in front of the tree, still in his black sweater and jeans was trying (and failing) to negotiate with a one-year-old terrorist.
"Izzy, baby girl, Daddy needs his scalp to stay attached," he pleaded, voice half in pain, that girl had a strong grip. "Let go, princess. Please."
Isabella giggled high, wicked instead and tugged harder.
It was clear who she took after.
"Mtelle!" she squealed at her cousin, who sat calmly beside the tree in his little turkey-thed onesie, staring at the twinkling lights like they held the secrets of the universe.
"Michelle, please face your brother to the cara!" I said
Michelle blinked once, then slowly turned his head toward Dash and then slowly and careful turned dash who was busy looking sowhere else, to look at and my cara.
I burst out laughing, cara shaking in my hand.
Revelation rushed over, already rolling up her sleeves.
"Give him here, you little gremlin," she said, reaching up to pry Izzy’s fingers loose.
Isabella shrieked in protest, kicking her chubby legs.
Kieran winced but grinned.
"Thanks, Rev."
"Anyti," she muttered, finally freeing his hair. "You’re gonna go bald before they’re two."
I gave up on the perfect photo.
I lowered the cara and sank onto the sofa, scrolling through the ones I’d managed to catch: Dash looking angelic but not looking at the cara, Izzy mid-yank, Michelle staring soulfully at the ornants, Kieran mid-plea, Rev and my mom laughing in the background.
My family.
All of them here.
Donald sat in his armchair by the fire, cancer-free, walking without a cane now, watching everything with that quiet, proud smile he’d earned. Rosie and Marcus were on the loveseat, her head on his shoulder. Jaden stood near the window, phone out, snapping candids, he’d started a small dance academy for kids and was thriving. Veronica at the dessert table, helping out.
And Alia, she’d co for the twins’ birthday and thanksgiving dinner.
She’d kept her promise: Mitchell lived with us full-ti, and she visited often, her modeling career blooming again. We co-parented without drama. It worked.
My eyes drifted back to the photos.
Jimmy.
He’d survived.m..barely.
Multiple facial reconstruction surgeries: He’d spent nearly a year in the hospital and psychiatric ward, permanent this ti. No trial. Deed unfit to stand trial. Locked away where he could never hurt anyone again.
Kieran had given his statent, calm, factual. I’d given mine too. The police ruled it self-defense. No charges. Jimmy’s escape, the attack, the knife in my shoulder, it all ended that night in the foyer.
And sohow... we were okay.
More than okay.
I felt an arm slide around my neck from behind.
I didn’t need to look.
His scent wrapped around , woodsy, comforting, warm, and safe.
Kieran pressed his lips to my temple.
"What are you thinking, My Love?" he murmured.
I looked up at him, tired, but happy, a teary smile stretching across my face.
"Just... how it all ended well."
He smiled, leaned in and kissed , tasting just like forever.
Then Dash and Izzy crawled over, determined little bulldozers and we each scooped one up.
Rev appeared, phone already raised.
Rev lifted her phone.
"Smile for the cara, Blackwoods."
"Wait," I said quickly, shifting Dash on my hip. "Everyone. Co here. Proper picture."
Groans and laughter filled the room.
"Marcus, stop pretending you didn’t hear ."
Rosie tugged him up. Donald rose slowly from his armchair, waving off help with a proud grin. Veronica abandoned the dessert table. Jaden jogged over from the window.
Alia scooped Mitchell up and joined us.
"Family photo," I insisted. "No escape."
Kieran dropped into the big chair and pulled down onto his lap. I adjusted Dash on one hip while he settled Izzy on his. Rev moved behind us, one hand on my shoulder.
Everyone gathered behind the chair, squeezing close, overlapping, laughing, fixing hair, adjusting babies.
The front door opened.
Damon stepped inside, shrugging off his coat.
He paused when he saw the chaos.
I waved at him.
"Damon! Get in here!"
He smiled instantly.
Rev’s whole face softened.
He crossed the room, leaned down, kissed her properly in front of everyone just to annoy her, and she smacked his chest while trying not to grin.
"Idiot," she muttered.
He slipped an arm around her waist and took his place beside her.
"Ready," he said.
I looked around.
Donald standing tall.
Rosie glowing.
Marcus steady beside her.
Jaden holding Mitchell so Alia could squeeze in.
Veronica fixing Izzy’s bow.
Rev and Damon shoulder to shoulder.
Kieran warm and solid behind .
Daisy by my left.
Our twins in our arms.
Safe.
Alive.
Loved.
Rev lifted the phone higher.
"Okay. On three."
"One..."
Izzy tried to grab Kieran’s nose.
"Two..."
Dash blinked seriously at the lights.
"Three!"
The shutter clicked.
And in that frozen second...
ssy.
Loud.
Imperfect.
Whole.
Everything was finally right.
The End.
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