The Penalty Box - Teagan Kade Page 0,59

any other way.

Of course, Linnea’s got her own deal going on. Whatever she decides, we’ve already agreed we’ll make it work.

It’s funny. I can’t picture Linnea as a housewife leafing through catalogues and catching up for coffee, settling for anything other than playing ball and being the very best she can be. We share that competitive spirit, and it’s not just in sports, but life, too. We want the best for ourselves and our family, whatever form that may take.

I think about the first time we met at that ABC party, that crazy flower dress she was wearing and how surprisingly easy it came off. That forward, go-get-’em girl I met is still there, but now I’m lucky enough to call her not just my wife, but my better half.

My lover for life.

EPILOGUE II

NOLAN

SEVEN YEARS LATER

Titus and Phoenix whistle in tandem, standing beside me with their hands on their hips.

“Who did you say owns this again?” asks Phoenix. The two of them are wearing matching check flannel, looking like a pair of fucking lumberjacks.

“Cayden Beckett,” Peyton replies, taking in the hunting cabin himself, though it’s more of a lodge given its size. “He was with the Patriots for a while. Asshole brothers, asshole father—we shared a lot in common.”

“Including your love of cock?” adds Titus, pretending to deep-throat said appendage. All that’s happened and these two still act like they’re horny teenagers. I guess some things don’t change.

“You want me to tell them about the strap-on you like?”

I hadn’t noticed Maya creeping up on him. She wraps her arms around his neck, can’t get a good grip considering she’s heavily pregnant with number three.

Titus flails. “Hey, I don’t know what she’s talking about. She’s crazy.”

All of the King kids are active, but Amelie, Titus and Maya’s first, is particularly energetic. She’s been here less than five minutes and already she’s halfway up a tree. She calls down. “Dad, look at me!”

Titus sighs, smiling and giving her the thumbs up. “That’s great, kiddo. Try not to fall and break your other leg, hey?”

He’s referring to the time last year Amelie decided she could hit the skate ramp like the rest of the boys…without having ever set foot on an actual skateboard. She’s fearless, that kid, and I have no doubt her sister April, now four, will be just the same. In fact, she’s headed right for the same tree determined to be just like her big sister.

As for number three, I warned Titus there’s a fifty-fifty chance it could be another girl. He didn’t seem to mind. I think he’s come around to his feminine side living with so much estrogen. He even took up baking recently after Phoenix bet him a grand he couldn’t make a cake that was actually edible.

I still remember Titus and Maya in Vegas, the crazy elopement. I remember flying out to see his first game at Fenway Park, the call of astonishment I received when he realized their first-born was going to have curly hair. Boston suits those two. It suited Linnea and me, too, for a while.

Maya’s pretty busy with the girls these days, but she somehow managed to complete a PhD in mathematics from Harvard, told me once she didn’t want Titus stealing all the limelight. She’s been working at the university for the last couple of years on and off, runs a side gig helping tutor kids who can’t afford it. I don’t know how she does it, to be honest…being with Titus, that is. We still don’t miss a single opportunity to blame his head injury on any and everything.

Maya pushes herself away and swats Titus on the butt. “Come on. I need your help getting all the crap you brought inside. Anyone would think you are the female in this relationship.”

“I’ll help,” says Phoenix, falling into step.

“Thank you, Phoenix,” says Maya, looking between the twins. “At least one of you still acts like a gentleman.”

“Uncle Peyton, Uncle Nol! Look at me!”

Amelie is still at it, now at the top of the tree. If this little family getaway doesn’t end in a hospital trip it’s going to be a goddamn miracle.

“So, what do you think?” asks Peyton beside me, shifting to look from the house to the lake.

“Looks like we should watch out for Jason Vorhees,” I joke.

Peyton checks his watch. “And holy shit, it is Friday the thirteenth.”

“Don’t worry,” I tell him, “I left the hockey mask at home.”

He shoves me in the side. “I don’t want to know about