Something Else Entirely

Epilogue - Haven't I taught you anything these past three years?

Fifty-nine days later.

"Jet, you're in charge of making sure Madden is ready and that you are both there on time."

"Yes, Dad. I know. You've said this, like, a thousand times already. I've got it," I replied, watching him frantically searching for his keys. They were already in his hand, and I laughed at him when he finally realised this. "Jesus. I'm so bloody stressed," he said with a shake of his head.

"Relax, Dad. There's nothing to be stressed about. Everything's already sorted. I promise Madden and I will be on time. There isn't anything that could keep either of us from being there," I said reassuringly. "Now, go. Mum and Ellie are already waiting for you outside. You know better than to keep your woman waiting. Haven't I taught you anything these past three years?" I said sarcastically, winking at him to make sure he knew I was joking.

Truthfully, it was he who had taught me everything I knew since the very moment I walked into that room with Tanner back at school, about women and every other important thing in life.

"Ha, ha, wiseass," he said, adjusting his shirt and tie in the hallway mirror and making sure his hair was slicked back neatly behind his ears. "You'll make sure you're dressed and looking presentable?"

"When am I ever not?" I said with my hand on my bare chest, feigning offence.

Dad guffawed, smirking up at me. "Oh, I dunno . . . when you sneak out of your bedroom in the middle of the night, butt-naked and looking for liquid sustenance to refuel after an hour or so with Logan cooped up in your room?"

I rolled my eyes at him, not nearly as embarrassed as I should be. "That was one time, and it was like 3:00 a.m.! How was I supposed to know you were up and lingering in the darkness like a stalker?"

"Um . . . by the simple fact I'm a father of eight-and-a-half-week-old twins, one of whom occasionally wakes up in the middle of the night needing to be fed and changed? Where have you been these last two months, kid? Jeez," he chuckled heartily.

"I'm my room . . . with my girlfriend . . ." I joked, heavy on the dramatic flair I've perfected since first entering this family. "I thought we'd already established this already?"

Logan yelled out from my bed where she was still trying to sleep, getting in late from shooting a wedding last night. "Can you two not? I'm right here!"

"Sorry, babe!" I yelled back to her, Dad ruffling my hair and pushing me back towards my bedroom door.

"Don't be late," he warned me, before his facial expression turned mischievous and he was yelling out past me towards the woman lingering in my bedroom. "Loges, please make it quick if he's going to maul you upon returning. We've got an important date we have to get to."

"Ohmygod! I swear, you are just as bad as he is, Ruben!" she whined, and I could hear her burrowing under my doona with embarrassment. "Damn Fosters!"

"I love you, too, Logan!" I teased, knowing there was a glare waiting for me under the covers when I went back in. Turning back to Dad, I promised him again that we wouldn't be late. "Now, go get my baby sister!"

Bronte was still in special care, needing another ten days after Elliot was granted the okay from the doctors to come home with us. My parents fought hard for Bronte to come home at the same time, but their little girl just wanted the spotlight on her own for a little while longer.

She wasn't doing herself any favours if she wanted to grow up and not have Madden and I playing the obsessively protective older brother cards on her, what with all our hours spent in the hospital with her cute but fragile little body, and from witnessing her need of additional oxygen from birth right up until last week. Being the only girl was already going to be bad enough for her, but watching her struggle and fight for the first two months of her life is just going to make us baby her worse than ever. Poor kid.