Page 79 of Until Posey

I chuckled softly before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You scared me so bad. I’m still so worried about you. You can’t go checking out on me yet. Our story isn’t finished.”

“Sorry to say this,” she said, a teasing, tired quality filled her voice. “You’re stuck with me for the long haul.”

The doctor came back in sometime later with the best news of all. Posey was fine. Better than fine. She was pregnant, and because of her condition, the sickness was worse. However, he was hopeful everything would work out since she was already four and a half months along. The news knocked me silly. I had to have him repeat it twice more before it sank in. Posey was pregnant and oh it appeared to be twins—which we confirmed when OB came down to do Posey’s first sonogram.

How the fuck?

Four months later we were back at the hospital, rushing to the maternity ward because Posey’s water broke, and she was only thirty-six weeks pregnant. Obviously, with twins, the risk of having them sooner was higher than a single baby. Ireland kept Anders and Destiny for us with the promise to bring them to the hospital when the time was right. Which, according to Dr. Brooks, was now. Baby B was breech, so a C-Section was the best way to go for Posey.

After donning my scrubs and washing up like the nurses instructed me, I waited. And waited. Then in a flurry of activity I was by Posey’s side, holding her hand as first Baby A entered the world, then Baby B. We had three sets of names picked up. We didn’t want to know if they were identical or not or if they were boys or girls or a combo. We just cared about them being health.

Pride radiated from my chest when we found out they were boys. We named them Milo and John. A name from Darcy’s family and one from mine. Both boys were health and came in at a whopping seven pounds apiece. No wonder Posey had gone into labor early. They were also breathing fine on their own, which was another blessing.

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” I whispered, pressing my lips to Posey’s forehead. “We made babies.” A choked sob fell from me before they pulled me away to meet our sons.

There they were in their warmers, staring up at me with such confused, tired glances. They were perfect and tiny and ours. I cut the cord for both boys, then waited impatiently for them to be wrapped up, so I could take them over to Posey to meet.

“Look at them,” she sniffled, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. “They’re beautiful.”

“Just like their momma,” I said. “I love you, Posey Banks. Thank you for making a family with me.”

Her eyes fluttered shut as a sob left her. “No, thank you, Hunter, for giving me a second chance and for loving me.”

Posey continued to prove to me I was the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.

Hunter

Sixteen years later...

“All right boys,” I said, pulling up to the junk yard one last time.

Today was Milo and John’s birthday, and we had a recent addition to our family, Owen. A shy, gangly boy with black hair and large blue eyes, that didn’t seem to fit his face or his sharp features. His biological parents had abused him almost his whole life. After an anonymous tip, CPS stepped in and removed Owen from the home.

That had been over a month ago.

When Jenna told us Owen just needed a chance, we both jumped in headfirst and welcome him to our home. Owen’s sixteenth birthday came last week while we were still organizing his arrival and petitioning the court for long-term fostering and adoption. We hadn’t even realized we’d missed his birthday until Milo showed us the date.

Posey and I beat ourselves up mercilessly about the situation, until John came up with a great idea, bring Owen with them to the Junk yard. I didn’t deserve my boys. They were kindhearted and genuine. Little assholes like their cousins when they wanted to be. But with the kids who’d graced our lives over the years, they treated each foster child as if they were siblings for life.

“You each have five hundred dollars to spend on a vehicle. Remember, if you’re going to rebuild the car or truck of your choice, the way you pay off the parts is to work with me on the weekends at the shop and keep up your grades in school. Between me, your Aunt Ireland, and Uncle Landon, we’ll teach you everything you’ll ever have to learn about maintaining and fixing anything that breaks in your cars. By the time you’re done, if you want to take the test to become a certified mechanic, we’ll make that happen too.”

“This is for you, Owen.” I handed him the envelope with his name on it, the money inside. “We missed your birthday by accident, but it’ll never happen again.”

He stared at me with open surprise. His blue eyes were almost the same shade as Posey’s, sparkled as the realization dawned on him. “I’m family?”

“Yes,” I said. “You are. Happy Birthday, Son.”

“Thank you.” Owen hugged me tight, then joined Milo and John, who’d already gotten out of the truck.

Landon pulled up behind us with the tow to help. No way I could get all the cars on one rollback. He joined me as the boys went into the shop first to wait for me. “Last time, old man.” My brother chuckled as he elbowed me. “How’s it feel to be here now?”

“Better than I ever fucking imagined.” I smacked him on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s go herd them in the right direction.”

Landon laughed. “Right behind you. Ireland wanted me to relay to you that everything will be ready at the ranch when we’re done here.”

“Perfect.”

After grabbing a couple of maps, we set out into the field to find the boys the cars of their dreams. Landon and I kept them away from the wrecked vehicles because no one wanted to fuck with a bent frame, and past the models that would cost more to rebuild than the car might be worth, especially the newer models.

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