“No you’re not!” Gabe shouts.
“Lucas, you are both very talented and I’m proud of you.” I get up and haul them with me, one in each arm so they don’t start grappling right then and there.
“Hey! You guys coming?”
Britt is leaning in the doorway, trying to hold on to the wiggling pink bundle in her arms.
“We’re coming.” I put the boys down so they can race each other to the car and shake my head. Everything is a competition with those two. Literally everything. Who can eat faster, who can jump higher, who knows more superhero trivia. It never ends.
I flip off the final lights and crowd Britt against the doorframe, giving her a sweet but lingering kiss. “And how is my gorgeous wife?”
“Ready to eat,” she says, giving me a wink that lets me know she’s not thinking about food.
“Daddy!” Two chubby hands reach out for me. Backing away from Britt, I sweep our daughter into my arms, making loud raspberries against her soft neck. She squeals in delight, the sound going straight to my heart.
“How’s my little Kinsey? What did you do at preschool today?”
“We made puppets and mine had a lot of glitter and it spilled everywhere, but Miss Martinez said it was okay.” My adorable little girl goes on and on about the trials and tribulations of being three years old while I lock the front door of Sousa MMA.
By the time Britt and I make it to the car, the boys are loudly arguing over which one of them runs faster. The whole time, Kinsey is still giving a play-by-play commentary on crafting puppets. Britt breaks up the fight while I strap Kinsey in her seat. Britt and I have to tag team Gabe and Luke, wrestling them into their car seats before we drop, exhausted, into our own seats.
I start the car and look over at my wife, my love, my soul mate. The woman who pulled me from darkness and showed me beauty in the light. She threads our fingers together and smiles while the three kids battle over which superhero is the best, Superman, Batman, or Wonder Woman. It’s chaos and love. Arguments and hugs. Boo-boos and sweet kisses.
It’s absolute perfection.
* * *
Author’s Note
Some of you may be wondering about the shooter. Why did he do what he did? Who was he? What were his motivations that brought him to commit such a horrific crime?
My answer? In the context of this story, it doesn’t matter. Killer is about the victims and how they stumble through life after such a traumatic event. The shooter’s motivation doesn’t make one bit of difference in Keller or Britt’s journey in healing.
There is no excuse for what the shooter did. What does it matter what he was thinking? Nothing is a good enough reason to walk into a school and fire a weapon at staff and students. Nothing.
Do Britt and Keller know the shooter’s reasons? Possibly. If they needed it for closure, maybe his reason was known and I just didn’t feel the need to include it in their story. Maybe the shooter didn’t leave a note. Maybe his reasons weren’t clear. Maybe everyone was left wondering.
This book is not about the shooter. It is about the journey of the victims. I hope you enjoyed it.