Abigail
Five years later.
"Don't go," Finnegan rumbled behind me, his fingers threading through my hair.
I was sitting on the wide porch of our new home on the Wolfe estate, watching the men pack boxes into the moving van.
"Tell her, baby, she's not allowed to leave. Tell her I forbid it."
I laughed, leaning back against his chest, feeling his warmth through the thin cotton of his shirt. "You can't forbid a nineteen-year-old anything, Finnegan. She'll do it just to spite you."
He groaned, but his lips were smiling against my temple. "My princess. My little girl. She was learning to ride a bike yesterday."
"That was at least twelve years ago, love," I reminded him.
"Feels like yesterday," he grunted.
Across the lawn, Angel sat cross-legged in the grass, her dark hair pulled back in a messy bun. Her brothers crawled all over her, their small bodies wriggling and giggling as she tickled them mercilessly.
