Authors: Nikki Winter
Fitz hadn’t. But the more that realization seeped in, the more he felt like some invisible weight was being lifted off his shoulders. His brothers, his parents,
Zuly
would always love him. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to change that.
***
She felt the brush of little Maria’s hands against her cheeks and looked down.
“Why’re you crying, Aunt Zuly?”
Her lips curved a little as she looked over the girl’s head and saw Fitz’s family slowly pouring out onto the porch and down the steps toward the embracing brothers. “Because I’m happy, sweetheart.”
“Daddy and Uncle Fitz are making up?”
Zuly nodded. “Yes, baby. Daddy and Uncle Fitz are making up.”
She watched Fitz being handed off from person to person, each hug longer than the last until tears were wiped away and grins began to fill every face. Something happened to her frogman in that moment; something he’d need as he went through the process of getting better. The support of his family.
Everyone turned toward herself and Maria, staring expectantly. And with a grin, Zuly strolled right where she belonged.
Epilogue
Six years later...
“If we keep losing the one kid we have, we’re eventually gonna have to start making more so no one will notice.”
Zuly slowly looked up from beneath her and Fitz’s bed where she’d been diligently searching for the small canister of Satan they called their own–their daughter.
“What?” And he looked genuinely confused. “It’s a simple suggestion.”
“Are you going to also suggest we start hunting lost humans for sport and keeping their skulls on the front porch as a warnin’ to all them damn Yankees?’”
Fitz’s eyes narrowed just a bit. “I find it so cute when you make
Deliverance
jokes...so very cute...”
“Really? Because right now you just look like you’re barely resisting the urge to strangle me. Oh and look at that, your ears just turned red.”
He slowly shook his head. “Why do you like to goad me? Is not being able to actually sit on your ass enjoyable?”
“Why do you
let
me goad you? Is spanking me really
that
fun?”
Fitz smirked. “You have no idea.”
Zuly took a step back. “
No.
We’re looking for our demon spawn, remember?”
“Why do you insist on calling my angel that?”
“Because your angel fell with Lucifer and decided fucking up my body
and
my soul would be a wonderful pastime.”
Her husband’s lips started to curve. “You’re adorable when you’re indignant.”
She rolled her eyes and made her way past him. “Move before I kick you.”
Fitz snorted a laugh as he followed her down the stairs. “Once a SEAL, always a SEAL, baby. Which inevitably means your act of violence would be pointless.”
“Not if I kick you in your bad knee...” Although it had healed well enough, Fitz occasionally had bad days with his leg. Those were the days Zuly usually said whatever she wanted to him and paid for it later when he was feeling better.
He stopped. “Low blow, Z...
really
low blow.”
“
That
, my lovely mate, is the point.”
“If I didn’t have to get up at the asscrack of dawn...”
Zuly grinned as she reached the family room and walked backwards toward the kitchen. “Commuting is a bitch, isn’t it?”
Fitz now worked an hour away as a mechanical system design and analysis engineer for a Stark Industries-like company by the name of Vetrov Corp. After about a year of both group and private therapy for veterans with PTSD he finally felt comfortable enough to go back to school and then put his degree in mechanical engineering to use. He still attended his meetings once a week and regularly updated his therapist but his nightmares had been few and far in between, and they’d learned the best way to deal with them when they did occur.
After getting married in a small, intimate ceremony on Carrigan Mountain, he began having the cabin remodeled and modernized, adding expansive ceilings and a few extra rooms. Just the way Zuly had always dreamed.
Once Zuly got pregnant, Fitz began to work from home more often so he’d be around to help with little things, and when they’d brought little Zara Carrigan into the world, he took a leave for a month until he was sure that both Zuly and the baby didn’t need to be watched every hour of the day.
Now, just a few years later, it had become quite clear to Zuly that Zara
did
need to be watched every hour of the day. She loved her daughter, her parents loved her daughter, her sister loved her daughter,
Fitz’s
family loved her daughter...but Christ alive, was the kid trouble.
With her huge golden eyes, wild hair and cream-touched complexion, Zara had already figured out it didn’t take much to get her parents to melt. Well at least Fitz
.
Zuly had learned quickly that her child was clearly Rosemary’s baby and possibly had a hand in the extinction of the dinosaurs.
Zuly started opening cabinets and doors, looking for said demonic spawn when Fitz pulled her to a stop and whispered, “Do you hear that?”
She slowly shook her head.
He nodded toward the sunroom out back. “Listen.”
Her brows lowered. “Is that...
howling?”
Grinning, he nodded and pulled her until they reached the sunroom and opened the door. From the distance they could hear the echoing howls of coyotes, one after the other. But the thing that made Zuly smile, the thing that had her heart all warm and fuzzy, was the fact that their daughter, their little touch of hell, was pressed up against the door and howling right back.
She looked to Fitz and, without even a second thought, they simultaneously pulled their heads back and joined in.
The End
Signed, SEALed, Delivered
One
Weddings. Fucking.
Sucked.
The thought was gospel, one that Amelie Holloman would’ve spread with a vengeance if she wasn’t sure it would result in her body being thrown into a shallow grave by the end of the night via her mother. Maybe those first few shots of tequila were affecting her thinking just a little bit, or maybe it had been the Jäger bombs she followed them up with, but she had the distinct feeling she was on to something. Something sensible. Something
solid.
What had she been thinking about again?
Amelie’s brows lowered as she took another glass from the open bar and downed it without a second thought. How many had that been? She shrugged. It didn’t matter--she’d keep going until she was face down in the middle of a sidewalk or face down in someone’s lap. Either option would be appreciated, being that she was incredibly tired of listening to all the goddamn sighing along with all the goddamn cooing and all the goddamn congratulatory speeches. Two people had found one another. They’d had sex for three full years until it finally clicked that they should have sex exclusively for the rest of their lives. So. What?
Oh. Oh, yeah.
That
was what she’d been thinking about. Her sister’s wedding. Her
younger
sister. With the fiancé-turned-husband who had a fortune sitting under his belt. Amelie’s lip curled. Good for them.
“Careful, Holloman or…or they might be wheeling you outta here,” a gravelly voice drawled next to her.
Smirking, she turned and faced the best man. “We can”—she took a deep breath, trying to form her words coherently—“we can share a gurney, Miach.”
Declan Miach chuckled, his golden eyes glassy as he stared at her. “
I’m
not drunk.” Reaching out, he tweaked her nose. “But
you
are.”
“Liar. You’re blasted off your arse.”
Laughter exploded from him, his face going flushed, bright white teeth gleaming as his lips stretched. “Ah, love. You actually used…you used
arse
in a sentence. I heard it. This is confirmation that you
are
drunk.”
Amelie shrugged and gestured to his head. “I am but wh-which one of us is wearing the Viking’s helmet?”
Declan looked confused for all of five seconds. His thick, inky-colored brows drew down then back up again as he stood from the barstool. He patted his pockets, then his chest which was slightly exposed through the opened buttons of his dress shirt and then his hands
finally
made it to the crown of his curl-covered head. His expression changed from bewildered to astonished as he took the helmet off and stared at it. “I’ve been looking for this
everywhere
!”
Giggling, Amelie told him, “It’s not even
yours
.”
He frowned. “It’s...it’s not?”
“Nope,” she quipped, picking up another shot. “Pretty sure you lifted it from one of the caterer’s carts.”
Declan frowned harder. “Why does the caterer have a Viking’s helmet? Why do I
not
have a Viking’s helmet? I have so many questions! I mean, look at it! It’s incredible!” He hugged the helmet to his chest and began to sway.
“What’re you doing?”
He closed his eyes and spun. “Dancing…I think. Don’t you hear the music?”
“Er…no?”
“Oh.” Declan stopped swaying.
Amelie’s lips twitched. “We are
so
drunk.”
Arms swinging out, he crowed, “I know!” He suddenly stopped laughing. “Wait…why can’t I see? Did they turn out the lights?”
She snorted. “Your eyes…th-they’re still closed, dude.”
His lids lifted, lashes fanning a few times. “Ah.”
“
Oookay,
you two. You’ve been great entertainment for the night but methinks it’s time for you to grab a cab and haul it in.”
The pair turned to the man working the bar, Declan’s younger brother Adrian. By request, he’d been commissioned to be the mixologist for the reception.
Amelie pouted a bit. “I’m not done with the tequila.”
The bartender barked out a laugh. “Oh, darlin’ now I
know
you’re drunk. You stopped drinking tequila an hour ago and started in on a bottle of Jäger.”
She blinked. “Heh. No wonder I had the sudden urge to use my bra as a slingshot for olives.”
Adrian chuckled and motioned between herself and Declan. “Which one of you was supposed to be the DD tonight?”
Amelie and Declan both lifted wobbly arms to point at one another. During the time the wedding plans had been underway for his best friend Brody and Amelie’s sister Brielle, the two had sort of…
bonded.
She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something about Declan that made her
comfortable.
It was strange, really. As a sniper for the Navy SEALs with shoulders the width of the door and hands that could crush a paperweight without much thought, he shouldn’t have made
anyone
comfortable. And yet, here they were.
The moment Amelie had looked over at him on the night of Brielle and Brody’s engagement party, announcing simply, “I like you but I won’t fuck you,” he hadn’t batted a lash. He only gave her a roguish grin that made her labia argue with her logic and stated, “Agreed.”
That was a month ago, and each time they were thrown together for the ridiculous pre-planned nuptial events, they found themselves drawn to one another. As the matron of honor and best man, they’d had to pair up for most of the rehearsals and detailing that went into one of the most fastidious
events either of them had ever experienced. Declan had been her escort down the aisle and the one she’d danced with. Neither time had she felt awkward or unsure. Despite how incredibly fucking gorgeous he was or how many times his hands had strayed a bit during their slow waltz, Amelie felt nothing other than completely in her element. Her dress hadn’t fit awkwardly when she slid it on today, her shoes didn’t pinch and her make-up and hair had gotten on without an issue. There was only one problem. She was thirty-five, single and at her
younger sister’s wedding.
At twenty-nine, Brielle had somehow managed to figure out not only exactly
what she wanted to do with her life but who she wanted to do it with. She’d left high school with a scholarship to Georgetown, majoring in anthropology and garnering the role of valedictorian. From there she’d been to South Africa, Greece and Turkey. While digging wells in Western Kenya, she met the son of a business mogul who had been funding the entire project for the continuation of clean water in the area. Before they knew it, they were sitting beneath the Kenyan sky, exchanging ideas for a non-profit organization that would change the way others saw the world. Said ideas led to a deeper connection that led to love that led to marriage.
What had Amelie managed to do with
her
life? Ah, she’d gotten a job as a freelance writer after graduating with a degree in journalism. Oh, and recently she’d gotten a puppy
. Lovely.
She didn’t envy her sister because Brielle was some monstrous bitch that felt entitled to everything she’d ever gotten. No, Amelie envied her sister because she wished she’d had an
nth
of the drive she’d had. She wished she could find someone to look at her the way Brody stared at Brielle when he thought no one was watching.
Adrian rolled his eyes. “
I’ll
call the cab.”
Leaning across the bar, after having settled the helmet on Amelie’s head, Declan patted his sibling’s cheek. “You’re a lovely person. Because I don’t think…I don’t think we’re in
any
”
—
he swung his arm out with a flourish—“condition to drive tonight.”
“Ah. Thank you, m’lord of obvious statements,” Adrian retorted, bowing and backing away.
Declan grinned. “That would be m’lord of manly beauty and grace.” He attempted to bow but sort of stumbled all over the place. Suddenly he righted and clapped his hands. “I should put that on a costume! Like a superhero!” He turned to Amelie, arms akimbo as he braced his legs apart. “Wouldn’t I look absolutely delicious in spandex?”