DRASTIC (Book 4 of the Soundcrush Series)

Epilogue: Diamond

So...I didn't want to make promises I couldn't deliver. I knew we needed a full closure, but I didn't know if I was ready to give you that.  I knew Bodie and Marley's story was complete, but I  couldn't "see" the Epilogue that closed the whole series. Then @dbenton3 left a comment on the last chapter that spurned my heart  forward and let me know for sure...we aren't finished with this series without a scene that brings us back to where we began. That's when I saw the ending clearly. Obviously, it ends...with the one and only Little Sister...

Kat, Some Years Later

"THANK FUCK!" Trace raises his arms from the paved courtyard of our Modernist Bel Air mansion as the limo finally appears down the drive. Then he swoops around, pointing a finger at me, where I stand on an elevated, contemporary entrance. He bellows, "GET IN THE GODDAMN LIMO!!!!"

I shake my head at my rock star, who still yells when he gets excited.

Gina, following behind me, holding Alder and Birch's hands, looks surprised at the harshness of Trace's yell, but relaxes when she sees his grin. It clearly doesn't match his false aggression.

"It's an old joke," I tell my mother-in-law with a wink.

"Daddy! Grandpa Ross says you shouldn't yell! Or say bad words!"

Alder, older by six minutes, is our rule-follower.

"Grandpa Matt yells," Birch objects. "And Daddy probably learned all those bad words from him."

Ross laughs as he makes his way across the courtyard from the guest house—which he and Gina occupy on a semi-permanent basis—carrying two booster seats for the limo.

"Nope. Pretty sure your dad learned those bad words from me, boys. I didn't always follow the rules, but I do now, and it's better that way."

"Daddy doesn't think its better that way," Alder observes.

Despite a tight fitted suit that looks as good on him at thirty-two as it did at twenty-two, Trace takes the modern concrete steps three at a time and scoops Alder up.

"I follow the rules most times, and Grandpa Ross is right, it's usually better that way. Let's review the whole rule following situation. Who has to follow the rules?"

"Everybody. Boys and girls," Alder says, "And grandpa's and grandma's, and moms and dads..."

"Except when they are..." Trace prompts.

"Rockstars!" Birch yells, sticking out his tongue and making the Horns sign with both hands.

"My man," Trace fists bumps his younger son.

"You're leaving stuff out," Alder says sternly. "Mom says you have to put on your rock star—like Batman's suit. Then you get a free pass. But only while you are wearing your rock star..."

"My man," I grin at Alder, and now we fist bump.

Alder and Birch are three and half years old, and their conversational prowess never ceases to amaze me. I guess it's because we talk to them so much, explaining the complicated circumstances we live in. Or maybe it's just their daddy's penchant for four syllable words that elevates their powers of speech.

Trace sets Alder down beside his twin brother and squats in front of his sons. They aren't identical, but fraternal twins. Both blonde-- Trace was also blond at their age. Birch looks very much like a del Marco. His bad-assery is  doubled; he gets it from both parents, I guess. I can also see Trace in Alder, but there is a lot Ballard in our first-born.