“I love you, Mom,” I tell her as she comes to me, wrapping her arms around me.
“You ever do anything like that again and I really will kill you,” she says.
I hear some grunts of agreement around the room, but I ignore them.
“I needed to make things safe for my son,” I repeat, and my mom nods against my chest.
Since Myla became my wife and we found out we’re having a baby, I have worked tirelessly to make sure she can have a normal life and our boy has a chance to experience normalcy.
“I have been blessed to have you guys as my parents, but I don’t want my kids growing up in a house where there has to be men with guns hanging around all the time. I want to enjoy my family.”
“I can understand that, honey.”
“Runt.” I look at my baby sister, and she comes to me, winding her arms around Mom and me.
“Don’t ever do that again,” she whispers.
“I won’t,” I promise then look at my brother.
He closes his eyes then comes over to us. He wraps his arms around all of us, muttering that he’s going to kick my ass.
“I’m sorry, guys, but thank you for taking care of Myla for me,” I tell Aye and Pika.
“Always,” Pika says, and for once, there is no feeling of jealousy—just gratefulness.
“You don’t even have to thank me,” Aye says.
I nod then step away from my mom, my sister, and me brother, and step towards my dad. Then I hug him like I haven’t done since I was a kid.
“I love you, son, and I’m proud of the man you have become,” he tells me.
I pat him on his back then step away and walk right to Myla to scoop her up.
“What are you doing?!” she shouts.
“We’re going to bed,” I tell her, looking at her beautiful face.
“Your family’s here, and you just got home.”
“I don’t care.” I lift my head and look at my family. “No offense, but I’m taking Myla to bed. You guys can stay or go,” I tell them then turn and walk to our room, where I carefully set her on the bed then get down on my knees in front of her, lifting her shirt up so I can press my mouth to her stomach.
“You shaved your head,” she says quietly, running her hands over my buzzed hair.
I close my eyes, relishing the feeling of her touching me. “Yeah.”
“I’ll miss your hair.”
I open my eyes and smile. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she repeats, resting her forehead against mine while her hands curve over my skull.
“It will grow back.”
“You look good in jeans,” she teases.
“Yeah?” I chuckle.
“Definitely,” she whispers, placing her mouth on mine.
I let her take charge for a moment then push her to her back, taking over. This is what I would kill for—the woman under me and my child she is carrying. They make everything worthwhile.