“Plus, I can start paying you back,” Theo adds, challenging me with a look.
“Cool.” I don’t give a rat’s ass that I paid for Theo’s tuition—especially since Mom insisted on paying my tuition—or need him to pay me back, but I’ll take his money if it makes him feel better.
Initially, Theo tried reaching out to his parents, hoping they might support him financially after he landed a place at Brown, but after the media coverage of what went down with The Sainthood, they want even less to do with him now.
Fuck them. It’s their loss.
“Did Diesel mention anything to you about Christmas?” I ask Theo, and he shakes his head.
“We only talked business.”
“Work on him please.” I know it’s months away, but we’ll need months to convince him to join us, because Diesel never takes a break. “Mom and Lincoln are coming here to celebrate with us, and I’d really love him to come. I miss him.”
Saint harrumphs, and I slap his thigh in warning.
“I’ll do my best,” Theo says, cutting his steak into even pieces. “But I wouldn’t get your hopes up. He’s a total workaholic.”
I’m so proud of Diesel, and his promotion was well-deserved, but I hate that I never see him anymore because he’s so busy. He makes the effort to keep in touch by phone, but I really hope he can celebrate Christmas with us.
I’d love Bry and Howie to join us too so it’s a real family affair, but Saint vetoed that idea the second I suggested it. While he’s made an effort to bond with Bry and he’s in regular phone contact with him, he’s still on the fence about Howie. I’m hoping, in time, Saint will be able to find it in his heart to forgive him.
Howie wants to make it up to Saint, and, according to Bry, he craves a relationship with his nephew, but he’s realistic enough to know he hurt him by abandoning him as a baby and that he can’t rush him.
Bry graduated high school by the skin of his teeth, and he’s now working at a tattoo parlor in Prestwick. Emmett and Sean both got football scholarships, and they’re now happily settled in the dorms at the University of Southern California. I make a point of checking in with all three regularly, and I hope we never lose contact.
“How is the lovely Giana?” Caz asks, interrupting my thoughts.
I focus on his wolfish grin, already knowing where he’s going with this. Caz is in a playful mood tonight, and it’s a manifestation of the happy place he’s in.
“Still denying her and Lincoln have a friend with benefits thing going on?” he adds.
“The official line she’s still feeding me is they are best friends.”
“It could be the truth,” Theo says, always quick to defend.
“So pure,” Caz teases, and Theo stabs him with a dark look. Caz chuckles. “They’re bumping uglies, for sure.”
“She says she wants to help him set up his new law practice because she feels responsible for the fact he’s in a wheelchair now, and maybe that’s true, but she’s happy, and that’s all I care about.”
Mom and Lincoln moved to Arizona six months ago, because that’s where Lincoln and Diesel’s family lives. Mom is setting up the law office they bought together, as business partners. When it’s open, she will manage it while Lincoln will provide legal services to the local community. Mom sold our family home, and she’s bought a new sprawling mansion in a nice, exclusive, gated community in Arizona, which Lincoln shares with her.
“Shit, I forgot to mention this,” Galen says, setting down his silverware. “I saw a report online today. Finn Houston and his sidekick Brooklyn Robbins were arrested on drug-trafficking charges in Texas last weekend.”
“So that’s where they were hiding out,” Saint muses, finishing his food and shoving his plate away.
“I’m not surprised they were arrested. Neither of them is smart enough to sell drugs and not get caught.” I take a sip of my wine.
“Let’s hope they make it to trial,” Galen supplies.
“I doubt there are higher powers who need to silence those two idiots,” Saint says.
Silence descends as we remember how Randall Solice was found hanging in his cell just before he was due to stand trial on multiple charges.
The FBI didn’t have enough evidence to charge the head of Homeland Security, but the doubt it cast on his reputation was enough for him to retire early under a cloud of suspicion.
Commissioner Leydon was sent to prison, convicted on multiple counts of treachery and murder. He’ll spend the rest of his days behind bars.
Diesel says he was the scapegoat, because someone had to publicly pay, but they buried half the stuff that happened in the process, which I fucking hate. It means the man who ordered my father’s murder is walking around with a generous pension and not a single care in the world. I could go after the ex-head of Homeland Security, but there has to come a point where you draw a line under something, and we made a call, collectively, to let it go.
Maybe, I’ll feel differently in the future, but right now, we’re enjoying our new lives and the freedom we have to choose our own path.
Diesel says the new head of Homeland Security is a good guy and together they are hoping to clean up both organizations, but it’s a tall order because corruption is hard to completely weed out.
_______________
Caz and Theo enjoy beers on the patio while the three of us clean up after dinner. Then we join them outside, taking a few quiet moments to appreciate all we’ve fought so hard for.
Although nightfall is creeping in, the weather is unseasonably warm for September, and it’s still suitable for swimming. Something we indulge in regularly, thanks to our own private beach. I stand, pulling my cotton sundress up over my head and tossing it on the lounge chair. “Last one in the water gets cockblocked for a month.” I giggle as I race toward the shore in my bra and panties.
We all know I’m lying, because I can’t even go twenty-four hours without dick, but that fierce competitive streak that burns bright in each of my husbands—and their perpetual willingness to pander to my every whim and need—has them all jumping up and shedding their clothes like it’s an Olympic sport.
Water splashes me as I plunge into the ocean, wading through the waves, counting the seconds before one of them catches up to me. I shriek when strong arms lift me up like I’m weightless and I’m flung over broad shoulders.
Galen slaps my ass. “Naughty, naughty, angel. You know we’ll punish you for that.”
“I’m counting on it.” As I watch Theo, Caz, and Saint plow through the water, with a full heart and a giant smile on my face, I know I can always rely on my husbands to deliver what they promise.
_______________
THE END
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THE SAINTHOOD – BONUS SHORT NOVELLA
This bonus story is set twelve years after the epilogue in Reign.
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Chapter 1
Harlow
NUDGING THE FRONT door aside with my hip, I push into the house holding two overloaded grocery bags flush against my chest, praying I get to the kitchen before the kids realize I’m home and descend on me with the usual enthusiasm. I shut the door with my sneakered foot, wincing as it slams loudly behind me.
Shrieks ring out as I walk into the extended kitchen, and I spot Galen hunched over one of the rugrats beside the sink. The faucet is on, and Bishop is holding a wet cloth underneath the running water. Beads of water cling to my son’s bare back, and he’s wearing damp swim shorts, so I’m guessing they were out in the pool before the drama started.
Depositing the groceries on the island unit, I step toward my husband. “What happened?” I ask, already knowing Aurora is involved. Our two-year old is a magnet for trouble, an
d she revels in it. If there’s mischief involved, Rora will usually be at the center of it. God help us all when she’s older.
Galen straightens up, and my lips twitch as my gaze roams over our youngest daughter. Rora is covered in flour, her olive-toned skin coated in a thick white downy layer. It even clings to her lashes and adheres to her long dark hair. “The kids were helping me bake chocolate chip cookies,” Galen explains, leaning in to peck my lips. “I swear I only turned my back for two seconds, and Fireheart dumped the entire bag of flour over herself.” He shakes his head, stifling a smile.
Crouching in front of my daughter, I gently brush flour off the lashes framing her warm brown eyes.
“I didn’t mean to,” she pouts, jutting her lip out. “Was an ax-dent.” My heart swells at her cute little voice even though I know she’s lying because dumping a bag of flour over her head is something our little Fireheart would do willingly and not by accident. But I find it hard to chastise her—unless she’s being deliberately naughty—because she’s curious about the world and desperate to know everything there is to know, and I never want to tame her excitement or stifle her exuberant personality.
“It will come off, and no one got hurt. That’s the main thing.” I smile as I tweak her flour-dusted nose.
“The flour goes in the bowl. Not over your head, stupid,” Bishop says, rolling his eyes as he hands me the wet cloth.
“No name-calling, Bishop. Remember we talked about this.” Galen sends our eldest a warning look that would terrify most kids, but Bishop is no ordinary kid, and he takes everything in stride. He’s like five going on fifty sometimes.
Rora glares at her big brother as I attempt to wipe the flour off her face. “You’re mean.”
“And you’re naughty,” Bishop retorts, blatantly ignoring Galen’s words.
The flour on Rora’s cheek turns to a gloopy paste as I gently scrub at her skin with the cloth. Fuck. I don’t think this will wash off as easily as I initially thought.
I predict screams and cries in my near future.
Throwing the cloth in the sink, I decide I’m going to put her outside on the grass and try to shake as much of the flour off before hosing her down, and then I’ll put her in the bath.
“Prodigy.” Galen pins Bishop with a firmer look. “Be nice to your little sister, and leave the parenting to us.”
I worry about our son for a bunch of reasons; one being he’s so serious sometimes. He has a natural tendency to take on responsibility that is way beyond his tender years. We had all assumed he was Theo’s biological child until the test last year proved otherwise.
“Mommy.” Luna slinks over to my side, draping her small body around me. She’s wearing her Frozen terry-cloth poncho over a swimsuit. “Can you come in the pool?”
“I need to bathe Rora, put away the groceries, and make lunch. But I’ll get in the pool after that.” Gently tugging on one of her soft blonde curls, I smile at my gorgeous eldest daughter.
“Come on, princess.” Galen pries Luna off me, scooping her up into his arms. “Let’s finish making the cookies, and then we’ll go swimming.” She beams at him, her jade-green eyes bright, her blonde curls bouncing as she snuggles into his chest. Luna is the most affectionate of our three kids. She’s also the quietest. She breezed into this world four years ago with barely a whimper, and she hasn’t caused us an ounce of trouble since.
Galen presses kisses into her hair, gazing adoringly at her, as he cradles her close. All my husbands are amazing fathers, and the way they love our kids is a thing of beauty. Watching these muscled, tatted, pierced men dote over our son and daughters makes my ovaries swoon, every damn time.
“Here, Mom.” Bishop hands me a large beach towel. “Wrap Fireheart in that so she doesn’t get flour all over the house.”
“Don’t call me that,” Rora snaps, pouting again. “Only my daddies call me that.” She plants her hands on her hips and thrusts her chest out, challenging her brother with her body language. It’s priceless, and Galen and I share an amused look. “My name is Aurora,” she tells her brother, as if he’s unaware, enunciating her given name. Aurora has an amazing vocabulary for only two, and she never stops talking, chattering nonstop from the second she wakes every day until she conks out at night.
“Whatever.” Bishop dismisses her with a shrug that enrages her. Her eyes narrow, and her nostrils flare as her temper rises.
I think the term “terrible twos” was coined for Aurora Sariah Westbrook, because neither of her siblings threw temper tantrums even close to the epic meltdowns we’ve witnessed with Rora. She must get that from me, because Caz is as easygoing as they come, and I can’t imagine him as a little terror when he was younger. Mom says she sees the same determination and spirit in Rora and she reminds her of me as a kid. Maybe that’s why I find it so hard to punish her when she’s naughty. I never want to clip her wings. My parents enforced discipline in a way that also encouraged my true personality to shine, and I strive to be like that.
Quickly swaddling her in the towel, I bundle her into my arms before she launches herself at her brother. Those two are always arguing, but they are also each other’s biggest defenders when anyone threatens or disrespects their sibling.
“Never a dull moment,” Galen muses, leaning in to kiss me with Luna in his arms.
Our lips linger, and I wish we had time to get lost in one another. But spontaneous make-out sessions are a thing of the past since the kids came along. Between work and family life, we barely have time to breathe these days. Yet I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love my life, and I wouldn’t change anything.
Except for giving Saint the one thing he desperately desires. Something that has eluded us, so far.
“Gross,” Bishop murmurs, watching us kiss. Rora wriggles in my arms, babbling away, while Luna giggles into Galen’s neck.
“Kissing isn’t gross,” Galen says when we pull apart. “One day you’ll find your own angel, and you’ll want to kiss her, or him, nonstop until your lips fall off.”
I arch a brow, an amused grin spreading across my mouth at his words.
“Ugh. Double gross,” Bishop replies. “I’m never getting married.”
“Why not?” I ask, repositioning the wriggly snake in my arms before I drop her.
“Because I’m gonna rule the world, and I’ll be too busy for relationships.”
I stare openmouthed at my son, momentarily speechless.
Galen’s expression softens as he looks at him. “You can rule the world and have love in your life at the same time, Prodigy. Don’t ever deny your heart the opportunity to love.” Galen lifts his head, his intense green eyes locking on mine. “I almost did, and it nearly killed me.”
I plant a soft kiss on his lips. “I love you.”
I expect Bishop to emit another “gross” comment, but he’s silent. Secretly, I know he loves how openly we all love one another. I grew up in a house where my parents were overtly affectionate, with each other and with me, and while I remember thinking similar “gross” thoughts as a kid, I also remember how much it warmed my heart to know my parents loved each other like that. It gave me an innate sense of security that couldn’t be replicated after we lost Dad. I’m determined my kids grow up feeling that same sense of security and protectiveness. The kind that can only come from love. It’s one of the reasons we shield nothing from our children. They know I am married to all their daddies, and they also know Theo and Caz share a special kind of love too.
“I love you, too.”
I will never tire of hearing those words from Galen or any of my husbands. I spent years believing I would never experience love, which makes what I share with my four guys even more special.
Rora huffs in exasperation, all out of patience, and Galen ruffles her hair. “Fireheart is restless. Go clean her up, and I’ll start lunch after the cookies are in the oven.”
“Thank you.” I should protest because Galen has been with the kids all morning while I worked, so I�
�m sure he could use a break, but I don’t because we’re a team, and this way, everyone will be fed and back in the pool quicker. “I’ll help when I’m done.”
Besides, no one wants me in the kitchen. Some things definitely haven’t changed. Galen and I are taking a cooking class downtown one night a week, and while his culinary skills have drastically improved, I still burn everything I touch. But I’m no quitter, and I’m not ready to throw in the towel just yet.
“You should relax,” Bishop pipes up, moving over to the counter where the bowl and other cookie ingredients are set out. “You worked all morning. Let Daddy make lunch. I’ll help.”
“Daddy was working too.” It’s something I remind everyone of regularly. Galen chose to be a stay-at-home father, and it’s no picnic. While the rest of us have jobs we can escape to, Galen doesn’t have that luxury. He’s around the kids, and this house, all the time.
It’s one of the reasons I asked him to take over managing the accounts for the fitness center I own and run. It’s also one of the reasons I hired Jazz two years ago to help me manage the business so I can work part-time and be here to relieve Galen in the afternoons. Plus, I want to spend as much time as I can with the rugrats while they are small.
“I was trying to be diplomatic,” Bishop says, and I quirk a brow. “Your cooking still sucks, Mom.”
Galen chuckles, messing the top of Bishop’s black hair. “Your diplomatic skills could use a little work.”
“It’s cool. And it’s not like he’s telling a fib. My talents lie outside of the kitchen,” I quip, sending Galen a flirty look as I walk toward the double doors with my impatient daughter wriggling and mumbling in my arms.
“You’ll never hear any complaints from me,” he replies, fire blazing in his eyes, and I know his mind has gone to the same place as mine.
My core pulses with need, and I wonder if I can coax Theo out of his home office to watch the kids for a while after lunch so I can indulge in a quickie with Galen.
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