“Verity,” I whisper, mouth forming a tired grin. “Family isn’t DNA. There’s no circumstance in this world that would make Wicker and Pace anything less than my brothers, and there’s no universe where I’d see this baby as anything less than mine.” I stroke her cheek, the awe so big in my chest that it’s almost more than I can contain. “We created him, didn’t we?” Her eyes glisten. “We did.” “All of us.” She nods, and for a moment, I think two people will never be as connected as we are now, contemplating the absolute fucking enormity of what we’ve made.
