Things We Left Behind (Knockemout, #3)

Sloane didn’t walk down the aisle. She ran and jumped into Lucian’s arms. They said their vows locked in an embrace.

When the officiant asked “Who gives this woman to this man?” Karen Walton stood and said, “Her father and I do.” There wasn’t a dry eye for the rest of the ceremony.

Nolan cried and wrapped Lucian in a bear hug. Nolan’s wife documented the hug with her camera, and Petula framed it for the office.

Sloane and Lucian danced their first dance as man and wife to Shania Twain’s “From This Moment On.”

Lina took Sloane and Naomi aside to whisper the word “twins” to them on the dance floor.

Knox, Nash, and their father shared a hug on the dance floor.

The family was surprised to find the front porch Christmas tree sporting a new angel that bore a striking resemblance to Simon Walton. No one knows where it came from, but everyone agrees that it looks like he’s winking.





Bonus

Epilogue

Happily Ever After

Lucian




A decade or so later

Christmas Eve was always chaos in our house. It was tradition that our family gathered here every year for an over-the-top holiday/anniversary dinner. Over the years, our family had grown considerably.

In the immediate family, we had two dogs, the now elderly and still judgmental Meow Meow, and a very expensive saltwater aquarium with one bad-tempered fish that had proceeded to eat every other fish until a pretty little clown fish kicked his ass. Sloane named him Lucian.

Despite my annual offering to hire a caterer, the women—and Stef—commandeered the kitchen, drinking wine, laughing, and cooking for hours while the men ran herd on the younger kids.

There were so many traditions and so many people observing them. It should have been overwhelming, but every time the front door opened and a familiar face wandered in carrying gifts, bundled up against the cold, another broken piece inside me knit itself back together.

Not that I’d ever admit it. I was, after all, Lucian Fucking Rollins. And even though I’d gone part-time in my own company, I was still a scary motherfucker.

Except to my family, of course.

I wandered into the kitchen, holding my first grandbaby. Amara was a tiny, bald little peanut in a too-big Christmas onesie. I hadn’t put her down since she got here. Sloane swooped by and delivered a kiss to Amara’s cheek and then mine.

“Lookin’ good, Grandpa,” she teased.

Our oldest son, Caden was twenty-five. We’d finalized his and his sister Caitlin’s adoption from foster care when Sloane was pregnant with our first baby, a boy we named Simon. In the course of four months, we’d gone from zero children to three. And we’d added a fourth, Juliana, just one year later.

I shot my wife a smoldering look, a promise of things to come.

She winked, then asked, “When will Nolan’s family get here?”

“They’ll be here tomorrow night in time for Stef and Jeremiah’s Christmas party.” Stef had purchased the foreclosed Red Dog Horse Farm on the outskirts of town and turned it into a luxury spa. Every year, we gathered there for a catered feast.

Knox marched through the kitchen with his youngest daughter tossed over his shoulder. He paused long enough for Gilly to reach down and snag two cookies off the platter.

“Viking and Mini Viking, you’re both in trouble!” Naomi called after them.

“Does anyone need anything in here? A beverage? A clean dish towel? Some sanity?” I offered, admiring the platters of food.

“Wine,” everyone chorused at the same time.

“Lou, the kitchen needs wine,” I bellowed at Naomi’s father who, with Lina’s father, was manning the bar we’d added in the dining room. Amara looked up at me wide-eyed and then belly laughed.

“How’s my little one?” Waylay asked, cooing at her daughter nestled in my arms.

In a twist of fate, Caden and Waylay had officially joined our families by overcoming years of friendship and falling in love in college. I still thought they were terrifyingly young to have jumped into that kind of commitment, but Sloane made me promise to keep my concerns to myself.

As my beautiful wife pointed out, if we’d done our job right, Caden would be a well-adjusted, productive adult who knew what he wanted. So far, her prediction appeared to be accurate. Even Emry, who was in the family room with his wife, Sacha, wearing a Hanukkah sweater and explaining the dreidel to Nash’s twins, assured me that they seemed like a happy, healthy couple.

“Knock knock!” a cheery voice called from the front door.

“Let’s go see who it is,” I told Amara. We arrived in time to see my mother-in-law, Karen, stroll through the door with my mother, their boyfriends, and their suitcases. I was still withholding judgment on both men. Even though the barrel-chested Max, who charmed Karen through salsa dancing, and the Purple Heart recipient veteran José looked at my mother as if she’d given birth to the sun, the moon, and everything in between, I wasn’t ready to trust either of them any further than I could throw them.

The great-grandmothers dissolved into delighted squeals, and Amara was wrestled from me.

My flour-covered wife appeared and started doling out hugs and cheek kisses. “Your rooms are ready upstairs. Dinner is in an hour. And wine is now,” she said.

“We’ll take the bags,” Jose offered, using his good arm to heft my mother’s overnight bag. As an above-the-elbow amputee, the man was annoyingly good at everything. Which only served to make me want to find his weakness even more.

Karen sighed as she watched Max head for the staircase. “Tell me the truth. Am I too old for this?”

“Too old for what?” Sloane asked, slipping her arm around my waist.

“To be so…infatuated.”

“We’re never too old,” my mother assured her emphatically, winking at me as she jiggled Amara on her hip. I was still getting used to this new, confident Mom. And she was still getting used to Lucian the family man. But we were making it work.

“Mom, it’s like Dad picked him out personally for you. He’s lovely,” Sloane said.

“He is, isn’t he? Speaking of lovely, when are Maeve and Kurt getting here?” Karen asked.

“Maeve just texted. Chloe and her girlfriend just arrived so they’ll be here in a few minutes,” Sloane reported.

“I can’t wait to meet the woman who got Chloe to stop talking long enough to fall in love,” Karen said with a grin.

A twitch of fur caught my eye, and I spotted Meow Meow hidden behind the drapes in the front window.

Knox growled theatrically from the living room and lunged on hands and knees. Two kids screamed and streaked down the hallway, three dogs yapping at their heels. Knox laughed, until he had to get to his feet.

“Goddammit, this middle-aged thing sucks,” he groaned.

We were all older. More things hurt getting out of bed in the morning. But I’d never felt better in my life. Being part of this circus of a family had healed so many scars I didn’t even know I carried. I’d stopped tattooing over the physical ones after watching my wife wear hers like a badge of honor.

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” Duke Morgan, Knox and Nash’s father, appeared in the open doorway. The man was dressed as Santa, and his wife was dressed as Mrs. Claus. On the porch was a red velvet sack overflowing with presents.

“Grandpa Santa’s here,” Nash, in uniform because he was on call, yelled. Lina was tucked into his side, her arms around his waist. Kids from all corners of the house ran to greet the newcomers.

Taking advantage of the distraction, I grabbed Sloane by the wrist and nodded toward the front door.

She grinned at me. We snuck our coats out of the closet and ducked outside onto the porch.

“There’s too many damn people in there,” I complained as she led me to the swing.

“You love it, and you know it, Lucifer.”

I did, and there was no hiding it despite my best efforts.

I pulled my wife into my side and covered us with the fleece blanket we kept on the porch for such escapes.