Page 102 of One Night
EPILOGUE
Duke
One YearLater
My eyes flicked over the stack of papers as I thumbed through them one last time. “This is everything?”
My attorney Joss’s rich leather chair creaked as he leaned back and propped his hands behind his head. “It’s all I’ve got.” He shook his head and chuckled. “I have to admit, this was not how I predicted this thing would have played out.”
I let out a soft grunt.No fucking kidding.
Joss leaned forward. “It was awfully convenient JP handed you everything his father was digging up about your land’s mineral rights.” His assessing eyes narrowed. “Just... be careful.”
I swallowed and nodded. He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know. Shortly after August was born, JP went back to his typical arrogant self, but for now—as long as I had any say in it—Sullivan Farms was protected. I would provide for Sylvie and August until my dying breath.
“I’ll get everything filed on Monday.” With a nod, Joss’s features clicked from attorney mode to friend mode. His expression bordered on mischief and humor. “Want to grab a beer? Find some trouble?”
I scoffed. Friday nights never held much appeal, even less so now. “Nah, I can’t. Got to get home to my wife.”
My wife.
The words tumbled inside me and never ceased to send a ripple of excitement through my typically locked-down stoicism.
I shook Joss’s hand and offered a sincere thank-you for everything he’d done for us in the last year. With the information JP had provided and piecing together bits that Lark, Annie, and the rest of the Bluebirds had dug up, a new heartbreaking history in Outtatowner came into view.
Bootsy had, in fact, been a descendant of the Sinclairs. Once that connection had been made, Annie uncovered a series of letters at the Remington County Historical Association from Helen, addressed to her brother. In it, she revealed that when she’d married Philo Sullivan, they’d wanted to get out of the bootlegging business because it was unsafe. She’d begged her brother to reconsider the offer from James to take their place.
From what we could tell, James King acted like a man betrayed, simply because his friends’ departure from the illegal business was bad for his bottom line. Ultimately, he affirmed the help of Helen’s brother, despite Helen’s pleading. Together the two men skirted the law to successfully bootleg during Prohibition, ultimately making the Kings a prominent and wealthy family in Outtatowner. Eventually James King’s greed consumed him. Slowly the Kings made enough sly business decisions, excluding the Sinclairs, relegating them to nothing more than the eyes and ears on the ground to the King empire.
The feud took a darker turn when my own father married the very woman Russell King intended to wed. His deep-seated ragecouldn’t handle such an affront, and Russell took it upon himself to fan the flames of the feud foryears. Before long no one remembered the real reasons behind the Sullivan–King feud. Or maybe no one cared.
It didn’t matter. Nothing and no one could stop me from loving Sylvie. I was always meant to be hers.
I stepped out of Joss’s office building and into the afternoon sunlight, taking one look at where I’d parked my truck and sighing.
In its place was a giant gift-wrapped package in the exact size and shape of my truck. My jaw clenched and I bent to look beneath my truck.
They even wrapped the fucking underside.
I snapped a quick picture and sent it to Lee. His response was immediate, and I didn’t bother stifling my grin.
Lee
On it.
My relationship with Sylvie was nothing short of a miracle in our small town, but that didn’t mean the pranks between the Kings and Sullivans had ceased completely. Slowly we were passing the torch to the younger generation, but we always made sure the mischief lacked malice.
When I pulled down our driveway at Sullivan Farms, the crunch of tires over gravel caught Ed’s attention. He bounded toward my truck with Duck waddling closely behind. Those two remained inseparable, and now I had to worry about running over two dumbasses as they barked and quaked and circled my truck.
I pushed the door open, and Ed nosed at my leg. “Yeah, yeah. I see you, buddy.” I scratched behind his long ears before bending down to give Duck the affection he also demanded.I climbed out of the truck and addressed the duo. “Where’s Mama?”
Ed yipped and spun in a wonky three-legged circle.
“Find Mama.” Ed raced toward the farmhouse with Duck waddling behind him. As I meandered toward the porch, my heart stopped.
There she is.
On the top step, Sylvie had Gus propped on her hip, and one hand shielded her eyes from the afternoon sun.