Page 105 of Twins for the Mountain Daddies

Dead on my feet most days, covered in spit-up half the time, and wrapped so tight around their tiny fingers it ain’t even funny. We all are. Even Hank, the man who once swore he wasn’t cut out for family life, now spends half his time walking around with one of the girls tucked against his chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Wyatt, though—Wyatt was born for this shit. He slid into the role of dad like a champ. No hesitation, no second-guessing. Just pure, unshakable devotion. He’s the one who gets up first in the middle of the night, who knows exactly how to swaddle them sothey don’t escape like tiny Houdinis, who sings to them when nothing else will work. It’s annoying, honestly. He makes the rest of us look bad.

And Ivy—God our girl is a natural, too. Not that she’d admit it. She still second-guesses herself, still worries she’s screwing things up somehow. But she’s not. She’s fierce and protective and patient in a way I never expected. Even on the nights when none of us gets any sleep, when Emma’s wailing and Juni won’t settle. The exhaustion might be bone-deep, but she still looks at them like they’re the best thing that’s ever happened to her.

They are. They’re the best thing that’s ever happened to all of us.

Hank is already ahead of us, waiting by the steps with his arms crossed. Typical. He’s the same as always—broad, broody, built like he could knock down a tree with his bare hands. But there’s something else in his stance now. A quiet pride. A softness he only ever really shows around Ivy and the girls.

He put everything into this house for her. Ivy forgave him a long time ago, but he still acts like he has something to prove sometimes.

This house isn’t just Hank’s project, though. It’s belongs to all of us. It’s the place where we’ll watch our kids take their first steps, where we’ll fight and laugh and make up. Where we’ll wake up every morning knowing we chose this life—together.

I press a kiss to Ivy’s neck as I guide her forward, my hands firm on her hips. She’s practically vibrating with anticipation, shifting on her feet like she might combust if we don’t get this blindfold off soon. Pretty sure if we don’t hurry this along, she’s gonna rip it off herself and call it a day.

“Easy, baby,” I murmur, nipping at the shell of her ear. “You’re about to break a record for most impatient human alive.”

“I can’t help it,” she huffs, shifting against me. “You’re all acting like you just led me to a freaking time machine or the entrance to Narnia.”

Wyatt chuckles behind us. “Trust me, sweetheart. It’s better than Narnia.”

She huffs. “I want to see our house. Now. Please.”

Hank grunts from the steps, the closest thing to agreement we’re gonna get from him.

She’s gonna love it. She has to love it.

I exhale slowly, my own nerves creeping in.

I clear my throat. “All right, darlin’. Moment of truth.”

I untie the blindfold and let it fall.

For a second, she doesn’t move. She just stands there, frozen, her hands still raised like she’s expecting the blindfold to be in place. Then, slowly, her fingers curl into fists, and she blinks.

And blinks again.

“Oh my God.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

Wyatt nudges her shoulder. “Say something, Mountain Girl.”

She does. Kind of. It’s mostly just a strangled noise, like her brain is short-circuiting.

Then the tears come.

She’s full-on sobbing, her hands flying up to cover her face like she can’t quite process what she’s seeing. “You guys,” she chokes out. “I can’t—this is?—”

Well. That’s either really good or really bad.

I glance at Hank, whose arms have fallen to his sides. His eyes are locked on her, his whole body still, like he’s afraid to move in case it changes something.

Wyatt just laughs and tugs Ivy into his arms, holding her against his side so he doesn’t disturb the twins. “Think she likes it,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Like it?” Ivy sniffs, pulling back to glare at him through her tears. “I love it. I—” She swipes at her cheeks, laughing a little atherself. “I knew it was going to be amazing, but this is—so much more than I ever hoped for.”

Hank finally speaks, voice rough. “You mean that?”

She turns to him, face crumpling. “Of course I do.”

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