Page 16 of Ink

I’m still nude, and as the rain beats down harder, our walk turns into a jog. It isn’t until I slide back the patio door and stare down at my little bunny covered in dirt that I realize what’s happened.

It’s official. She’s mine.

Mine to love. Mine to protect. Mine to adore forever, and then some.

Epilogue

Lydia

Two Months Later

Mable stares at me with a narrowed gaze. “You never think about what happened to Dillon?”

I don’t think about it because I know. Well, I don’t know, but I have a pretty good idea. I mean, Dillon disappeared the same night I heard two-gun shots, and then Ink made this weird statement about loving him no matter what he had to do to protect me. I’m not the smartest detective, but I put things together on this pretty quickly.

“No. He’s gone. Whatever happened, happened. I’m sure he’s out there messing up someone else’s life.”

Mable looks at me like a deer in headlights. I know she hates Dillon as much as I do, but I’m not sure she likes the fact that I’m so blase about him disappearing. I’ve thought about bringing it up to Ink on multiple occasions, but he’s keeping it secret for a reason and I figure the less I know, the better.

“The big, tough guy is rubbing off on you,” Mable jokes. “How are you feeling? You ready for your baby shower next week?”

I rub my hand over my stomach. I’m eight months along tomorrow and I couldn’t be more ready to get this baby out of me. “Yeah! Thanks for putting everything on. I’m excited to unwrap all the little dresses and bows.”

Mabel squeals. “You’re so lucky! I mean, I was jealous about your wedding. It was perfect! But this… this is my dream.”

Ink and I married the weekend after we ruined his garden. In fact, we said our vows in the garden—after we did some replanting. Only a few people attended. The MC, a few close friends and family, and my boss at the hardware store. Well, my old boss. I don’t work there anymore. Now I spend my days at school and my nights making soup and brownies. I don’t hate it.

“You’ll have babies someday,” I say, reaching out to comfort Mable. She’s only in her mid-twenties. She’s got plenty of life left to live, but I get the antsy aspect of it all. Society puts so much pressure on us to have our lives figured out by the time we’re her age. It’s not fair. I didn’t know my head from my ass when I was that young. Hell, I didn’t know my head from my ass when I was thirty-five.

“I know.” Mable sighs. “I just… my dad is driving me crazy. I went on a date last week and he sat on the lawn with a shotgun until I came back. I’m grown, Lydia. I don’t know how to stop him. He really thinks he controls me, and I don’t know what to do about it. Besides that, I need adventure. Something real, ya know?”

“Like what?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe I need a big, bad man like you have. Someone who’ll take me out and show me a good time. You think you can find me one?”

I know lots of big, bad men now, but I’m not sure I’d want any of them hanging around with Mable. Mable is the definition of innocent. She’s soft, she’s sweet, she doesn’t put up a fight, and I’m pretty sure the closest thing she’s ever had to a kiss is when her dog leans in to lick her lips.

“What about speed dating? Have you checked that out?”

She laughs. “Yeah, no. Why would I want to see twelve weirdos at once?”

I laugh. “What about that marriage thing? The soul mate mail order thing?”

Her laughter elevates in both frequency and pitch. “You hate me, don’t you?”

Ink walks in the front door. His sleeves are rolled up, and he’s covered in dirt. I’m like Pavlov’s dog when I see him this way. There’s something about a dirty, hardworking man that just does it for me.

He nods toward Mable, says hello, then strides toward me, sweeping me up in his arms with a kiss.

“You ready, Bunny?”

“Ready for what?”

“You have a doctor’s appointment in an hour. We have to move. You’ll be late.”

“Shoot! I swear this pregnancy fog thing is real. I forgot my last two appointments, and I left all the kids’ paperwork at school, so I’ll be correcting it tomorrow morning.”

Mable grabs her sweater off the hook by the door. “Well, soon you’ll be on maternity leave. How are you dealing with all that? A substitute in your classroom for six whole weeks? You’ll die.”

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