He turned off the light, shoved it in the back pocket of his jeans, ripped open the envelope and sprinkled the grass with its contents.
Jesse’s hair. Not the first that had been clipped, that was pressed in a frame that sat on Sylvie’s nightstand.
But it was his.
Jesse’s.
A Jesse made by Sylvie and Creed.
Once the hair was out, Creed rumpled the envelope and, for the first time in his life, he littered by throwing it at the base of the headstone.
He stared at the grave.
Sylvie’s father had died of a heart attack at an age too young for a good man to leave this world but way too late for the man he was.
“I win, ass**le,” Creed whispered.
Not surprisingly, there was no reply.
Creed didn’t need one nor did he wait for one.
He turned on his boot and went back to his family.
* * * * *
Two years and four months later…
“It’s good you have a big table,” Knight muttered and Creed looked from the stove to the man standing, h*ps to the counter, bottle of beer in hand, surveying the scene.
He looked over his shoulder.
Outside he could see Brand and Adam with Charlene’s new man. God only knew what they were doing but, not surprisingly, whatever it was, Adam was smiling and Brand’s mouth was moving.
Inside, Anya was chasing after Theo, Leslie, Kat, Jesse and Rayleigh, Creed and Sylvie’s petite, wild, curly blonde-haired daughter and Kasha, Knight and Anya’s second girl.
Anya had company. Sylvie’s white, west highland terrier was jumping around, panting and barking at Anya and the kids.
Kara was sitting in an armchair, phone glued to her ear, talking either to a girlfriend or one of her, God help him, boyfriends.
Yes, he said one of.
Jesus.
Charlene and Sylvie were on the couch, gabbing.
He looked at Knight who was still looking through the full house, his expression not giving anything away.
“Sylvie says you’re not big on holidays,” Creed muttered as his eyes went back to the stove.
“Wasn’t.”
Creed looked back to Knight at his answer.
“Wasn’t?” he prompted.
“Got three women in my house who go wild for every holiday. Swear to Christ, Creed, even when the red, white and blue M&Ms make their appearance for the Fourth of July, they act like Uncle Sam swooped in and personally asked them to watch the fireworks at the White House with the President. It’s impossible not to be big on holidays with those three dragging me in their wake.”
Creed grinned back down at the stove.