Page 142 of Mountain Daddy

He pulls me into him. Kisses me hard. The crowd cheers.

Kids run between tables, stealing cupcakes. Mobsters raise crystal glasses. A grandma is whispering to her priest about “those suspicious Russians.”

It’s awkward.

It’s unusual.It’s perfect.

Because we’re here. We made it. And no one’s taking this life from us now. Not ever.

32

THE LEGACY

NIKOLAI

Isip my coffee. Black, strong enough to wake the dead and watch my children play in the backyard.

Three years.

Three years of peace.

Three years of waking up next to Lilly without checking for a gun under my pillow first.

My daughter squeals as Chloe swings her from the back. Anastasia. Named after my grandmother. We call her Ana. Three years old and already as fierce as her mother. As stubborn as me.

“More!” she demands, her little fists grabbing to the ropes when he stops swinging.

He winces but complies. Eight years old now and already protective of his sister’s demands.

She giggles, fearless. Dark curls dancing in the breeze. My eyes. Lilly's smile. The best of both of us wrapped in pink overalls with dirt on the knees.

I take another sip of coffee. Let the bitter warmth slide down my throat.

I never thought I'd have this.

Never thought I'd survive long enough to see my son grow tall.

Never imagined I'd have a daughter with Lilly's laugh.

Never believed I'd live in a house with a white fence and fucking wind chimes on the porch.

Yet here we are. The cabin's long gone.

Sold two years ago when we bought this place on the edge of town. Close enough for Lilly's bakery. Far enough for privacy. Four bedrooms. A yard with space for a dog and two kids and all the ghosts of the man I used to be.

I watch them now arrange sticks in a square. He's patient with her. Kind in a way I never learned to be until I met Chleo.

Ana's not having it though. She wants to build it her way—three sticks balanced precariously. More sculpture than structure. Determined little thing. Gets that from me.

“No, Ana,” Chleo explains. “It'll fall down if you do it that way.”

“My castle,” she insists, bottom lip pushing out in a pout that's pure Lilly.

I smile into my coffee.

Chleo sighs, sounding exactly like me when I'm trying not to lose my temper. “Fine. We'll do it your way.”

And they do. The castle is a disaster. It falls immediately. Ana laughs like it's the funniest thing she's ever seen.

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