Page 159 of Unbreakable Thread

Excitement and warmth rush to my belly. “Like this.” I put a hand on my chest. “Oh, my gosh, guys.” Then I wipe my crocodile tears. “This is amazing.”

Max shakes his head, laughing. “Maybe add more drama.”

“Noted.” I nod. “Let’s get this party started. I’ll drive us there.”

“No!” they all shout in unison. Even my own kids. Traidores.

Max taps my ass. “I’ll drive us there. Remember, princess treatment.”

My driving has improved, at least that’s what I think. Princess treatment is what Max gives me every hour of the day. When I reunited with my relatives, he was there for me, holding my hand the entire time. Healing is a process. Now, I can say I’m happy and healed. Two years ago, I asked Max what was in the letter, and he told me. It didn’t affect me like I thought it would. I no longer wonder why my adoptive parents did what they did or why. Some people still call me Rainey. There was a time that the name sat heavy—Rowan and Jenna’s name for me, their reasoning, all of it. But Max started calling me Rain like it was something good, like rain was something you stood in on purpose. Now when I hear it, I think of him first. The rest comes after, quieter than it used to be.

Life with Max has been everything I dreamed. I can’t wait to see what our future looks like.

Epilogue 2

Max

Five years later

Hammering a nail into the wall of my gym office, I hang up my gloves, my belt—proof of every fight I’ve won. My dad’s relentless training made me undefeated, but even that isn’t enough to keep me fighting in the ring. Sure, I could keep fighting for a couple of more years, but for right now, I feel I have fulfilled my dreams and the purpose for which I started fighting in the first place. I have everything I could have ever hoped for.

A wonderful wife, and five kids—all under five. My surveillance company now spans three states, and the gym is holding its own. Sol still has her café, though she handed it over to a manager to help manage it. Isabella ran it as long as she could, but age eventually caught up with her. These days, Sol shares an office with two other psychologists, working part-time for now. She wants to spend as much time as possible with the kids. I carry the kids with me when possible. I’m not a fan of daycares. We do have a trusted sitter at home, and Leo and Juliana will start kindergarten soon.

My dad saunters in and drops into a chair like it’s been waiting for him all day, hands laced behind his head. The gray hairs and the mustache he’s had since before I was born—he wears it all easily, like a man who made his peace with time somewhere along the way.

“What a day,” he breathes out. He glances at the wall where I’ve hung my shrine. “It’s about time you hung your belts up, hijo. Be proud of yourself, and it also encourages others to follow in your footsteps—a role model.” Age has made him softer. “I’m proud of you, my son. You have accomplished so much in your life. I’m grateful for the opportunity to train you, be by your side at every fight, and have the privilege of working for your company. I don’t deserve it.”

Getting to my feet from behind the desk, I move and lean against it, crossing my ankles. “Come on, Pops. We are past that. I have forgiven you. If it’s a debt you’re looking for, you’ve paid it. You have been an outstanding grandfather to my kids. They treasure you. You help watch them. You spend every second you can with them. They sleep over at your place. You love my wife as if she were your daughter. That’s more than I can ask for. You have been sober for six years, Dad. I’m proud of you. It’s not easy, but you did it. You’ve earned your spot in my heart. It’s always been there. I just wanted you to prove it to me, and you have. You’re my rock, Pops.”

We have gotten close after spending so much time together. He’s the father I longed for. I’m just grateful my kids have him in their lives. I may have lost years with him, but at least my kids have him. He’s the only grandparent they have. The second he steps in the doorway, they run to him. My two youngest twins, Nico and Max Jr. Yes, I had to name one after me. They’re only four months old, and they baby-talk and coo to my dad. Gracie is only a year and a half old and runs to him.

Pops swallows and nods. “Thank you. My grandkids are my world, my reason to wake up every day.” He gestures around the gym. “And I have this, you and Sol, training, and a job. What more can I ask for?”

“Exactly, we can’t complain. Life has been good,” I tell him. It’s good to have the Underground behind me now. Daniel only nods when passing each other in public. He’s kept his distance.

A small groan thunders toward the door. “Ugh, fuckin’ shit,” Leo roars, his hair slicked with sweat, struggling to take his gloves off. “I can’t, Dad.” My five-year-old swears like a sailor.

My dad’s lips go into a straight line, hiding his laugh.

“Excuse me. Watch that mouth.” I raise a brow at him and beckon him. “Come here, let me help you. If your mom hears you, she will be upset with you, then me.”

His lips twist, and he gives me a shrug and walks to me. “You say bad words,” he says matter-of-factly. Pulling the gloves off him, my lips turn into a smile. He might be my son, but he has Leo’s name, and he sure is impulsive, like his uncle Leo.

“Yes, but I’m an adult, and you are only five years old.”

“Okay.” He sighs, like he carries the entire world in his hands. Leo does the class warm-up and hits the bags. I don’t have them spar at this age. The Leo scholarship funds kids who want self-defense classes and smaller kids like Leo’s age who need activities to stay active. “I’m hungry.”

I glance through the window, watching Juliana play with her toys on the floor. “Give me five minutes, then we’ll head home. Your mom is making dinner.”

Leo glances over his shoulder. “Grandpa.” He jumps on his lap as if he just didn’t see him ten minutes ago in the gym. “Are you coming to…the house?”

Dad wraps him in his arms and places a kiss on his forehead. “Not tonight. I’m closing for your dad so he can get you two home.”

Leo frowns. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

Juliana walks in with her long-braided hair and purple dress. Sol always says Juliana looks just like me. She does, her green eyes sparkling when she peers at me. Her smile grows, and she holds onto her doll. “Dad?”