The Do-Over (The Miles High Club #4)(145)

“This isn’t good,” Eddie replies.

I hold my mouth to stop myself from laughing out loud.

“Hayden . . . ,” Christopher calls. “This isn’t funny . . .”

“Fuck, she’s dead,” Eddie says.

“Don’t say fuck,” Christopher replies. “Hayden . . .”

I giggle into my hand.

“Hayden!” he cries.

“Go and find her,” Eddie snaps.

“Me! Why do I have to? You’re supposed to be the tough one. Didn’t you live on the fucking streets?”

“You said you’re the parent,” Eddie argues back.

“And when I find her, I’m going to smack her fucking ass.” I hear him walk down the front steps in an outrage. “Hayden . . .”

I peer through the bushes to see him carrying a broom as a weapon, and I screw up my face to stop myself from laughing out loud.

He gets closer and closer.

“Hayden . . .”

I wait until he’s right near me, and I jump out and scream as if something is chasing me. I run past him at full speed.

“Ahhhhhh,” he screams as he sprints for the house.

“Ahhh,” screams Eddie as he waits at the door.

Christopher runs past me into the house. It’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I fall onto the front steps laughing so hard.

Christopher sticks his head around the door and glares at me, unimpressed with my joke. “I’m buying a wolf tomorrow, and I’m going to feed you to him, piece by piece.”

The door slams shut, and I sit on the steps and look around the darkness. I hear the wind in the trees and the animals in the nearby forest. I can hear a stream bubbling in the distance.

It’s peaceful and still. A sense of calm falls over me like never before.

I’m home.





CHRISTOPHER

“And these are your clothes. I wasn’t sure what to get you, so I just got the minimum, and we can go shopping together for anything else you need.”

Eddie sits quietly on the bed as I show him around his new bedroom.

“And through this wall will eventually be a bathroom, but it’s not done yet. The house needs some work.”

He smiles up at me as he watches me fuss.

It’s been a big day. Flew across the world. Watched me get engaged. Nearly saw Hayden get eaten by a wolf.

“You okay, buddy?” I ask him. “You’re very quiet.”

He nods, and I can tell he’s emotional.

“I hope you like it here. There’s no wolves . . . I don’t think?” I shrug. “At least I hope not.”

He stays quiet, and I sit down beside him.

“What is it?” I ask.

His eyes search mine. “What if . . .” He stops himself from finishing the sentence.

I look at him, and I see a scared little boy who’s lost everything that he loved.

“What if this doesn’t work out?” I ask.

He nods.

“It will.”

“How do you know?”

I think for a moment. “You know, Eddie, I’ve been thinking about this, and I’ve come to a conclusion.”

“What’s that?”

“A family isn’t just the one you were born into. I told you before that I felt like we belonged together and that we met for a reason.”

His eyes search mine.

“Hayden and I have been talking, and . . . if it’s all right with you, we’d like to adopt you. We’ll return to Spain with you whenever you want, but I want you in my and Hayden’s family. The three of us. And one day there will hopefully be more children, and you will have your own brothers and sisters.”

He stares at me, and I can see him imagining a future.

“It’s not going to be easy, and there will be days when we’ll all drive each other nuts, but I want you as my son.”

His eyes well with tears.

“Would you like that?” I ask softly.

“Very much.” He nods, and I pull him into a hug and hold him tight.

“Thank you, Christo,” he whispers into my shoulder. “Thank you so much.”

I smile as I hold him. “Call me Dad.”





THE END





Thank you to my wonderful readers. I’m thrilled to announce MILES EVER AFTER: the book of extended epilogues for the Miles High series.





READ ON FOR AN EXCERPT OF MR. MASTERS





PROLOGUE


Julian Masters


ALINA MASTERS

1984–2013

WIFE AND BELOVED MOTHER.

IN GOD’S HANDS WE TRUST.

Grief. The Grim Reaper of life.

Stealer of joy, hope and purpose.

Some days are bearable. Other days I can hardly breathe, and I suffocate in a world of regret where good reason has no sense.

I never know when those days will hit, only that when I wake, my chest feels constricted and I need to run. I need to be anywhere but here, dealing with this life.

My life.

Our life.

Until you left.

The sound of a distant lawnmower brings me back to the present, and I glance over at the cemetery’s caretaker. He’s concentrating as he weaves between the tombstones, careful not to clip or damage one as he passes. It’s dusk, and the mist is rolling in for the night.