Page 124 of Love Puck

Jillian shrugged. “Minor details. We should book Penny now. She’s a great coach, and it’s tough to get a spot with a gold medal Olympian.”

I frowned down at my wife. “You’re a gold medal Olympian.”

She rolled her eyes and huffed. “I’m not a goalie. But Penny is.”

I swallowed and interrupted her as I cleared my throat. “Just sayin’, I’m a gold medal Olympian, too. This kid will have—”

A loud shriek made us let go of each other and swivel around to see—“Oh, shitballs,” Jillian said while we took in the sight in front of us. Tucker and his sister were in his truck. He was driving, and Julia was beside him.

That wasn’t the concerning part.

The concerning part was their upside-down baby brother in the trailer. A few seconds later, the shrieking stopped. And Fynn started laughing along with his older siblings.

All that rowdy laughter was a common occurrence in the Clemens’ household. And I fuckin’ loved it.

I worked hard for it.

For them.

For all of us.

And it was worth every second.

“We should probably stop them,” Jillian whispered, not taking her eyes off of our three oldest kids tearing around the yard on a mini-truck and trailer.

I thought about it for a second and said, “They’ll cry if we stop them.”

She nodded. “And they’ll cry if we don’t. Eventually.”

I nodded and made an executive decision.

Enjoy the laughter.

There wasn’t much that fed my soul more than hearing my family laugh.

Unless it was my wife telling me she was pregnant.

Again.

Or one of my kids snuggling into my arms and saying, “I love you, Daddy.”

Or my mother taking a minute to hug me and say, “You did good, son.”

Yeah, life was crazy.

Busy.

Lively.

And better than I could have ever imagined.

“When the crying starts, I’ll take Fynn.” My wife was already planning and divvying up duties.

“Alright, I can deal with the other two.” I gazed down at Jillian. “So, after that one pops out, they’ll outnumber us two to one. Are we—” I cleared my throat, “done?”

My wife’s jaw dropped.

“What?” She had a flabbergasted look on her face that told me we were, in fact—not done.