And soon.
Because that gift she’d given her mom?
It was a “grandma” t-shirt.
It seemed like we were getting a big head start on that happily ever after of ours.
Louana - 15 years
“Adie, you need to hit him,” I called from behind the desk at the self-defense gym I’d been practically calling my own for many years.
As it turned out, Lo and Janie were happy to hand over the reins to me, to let me continue on their legacy of training the next badass generation of girls.
Including my two.
One of whom was going half-force at her padded-up big brother.
Mills was the spitting image of his father when Valen was his age. Tall, a little bit all arms and legs that he would hone into strong muscles in a few years. He chose to keep his dark hair long, tying it back in a bun at his crown.
“I don’t want to hurt him,” Adie objected, giving me those big, doe eyes of hers.
Where Adie came from was a fucking mystery. That girl was all sugar and honey and everything kind and sweet the world had to offer.
If it weren’t for the fact that she looked exactly like I did as a girl, I would have sworn she’d been switched at the hospital.
Parenting had proven genuinely traumatizing when we’d welcomed Mills into the world. He’d come in breech and suffered with colic so bad that even Billie, who had the patience of a saint, hadn’t been able to comfort him.
As such, we’d taken a little break after him to recoup.
So while Mills was about fourteen, the girls were eight and nine, respectively. With Adie being the older of the two.
“Hurting him is the whole point, babe,” I reminded her. “He’s not Mills right now. He’s a bad guy.”
“Maybe he just needs a hug.”
“No, baby, he needs a kick to the crotch,” I told her, barely holding back a smile at how green Mills looked at that idea, even with all the padding.
“But, Mama, he—“ she started, then cut off when her little sister came barreling out of nowhere, her silly space buns at a contrast to the stern determination on her face as she ducked under the ropes of the ring, walked forward, and kicked her big brother in the crotch. Then proceeded to beat the crap out of him.
“Okay, killer, okay,” I said, ducking under the ropes, grabbing her under the arms, and dragging her back as she continued to swing and kick at the air. “Got a lot of rage inside you, huh?” I asked as I took her hands to inspect them since she hadn’t even bothered to put gloves on.
Vara Violet (yes we’d named her after her aunt) was the polar opposite of her big sister. There’d never been any doubt about who her parents were. She was pure sass, attitude, confidence, and boundless energy. And a heaping dose of rage at the world, it seemed.
“He ate my Lunchable,” Vara declared, crossing her arms over her chest and jerking her little chin up.
“Well, that is certainly a pummel-able offense,” I said, getting a nod from her. “But we can buy you more Lunchables.”
“I want three,” she said, giving me a nod.
Much like her (middle) namesake, Vara loved her food. She practically stabbed your hand with her fork if you tried to take anything off of her plate.
“Three it is. For my little killer,” I said, leading her toward the side of the ring.
“Feral,” Mills was mumbling under his breath. But Vara had the hearing of a carnivore on the lookout for some prey.
I needed to snatch her out of the air as she turned and flung herself toward her brother.
“Mills, shouldn’t you be showering now?” I asked, glancing back at the clock while I wrestled Vara out of the ring. “Maeve is going to be here soon,” I reminded him.