Trace, two weeks later
"Hey, toss one up," I say to Adam from the roof of Kat's She-Shed, where I just finished nailing down the last shingle. I catch the beer he hurls, crack it open, and guzzle moderately as I bask in the sun and the glory of a job well done.
Prez stands beside Adam, surveying the roof from the ground, where he's finishing up the siding. "Looks good. Now that everything is dried in, what do you figure? Finished in a week?
"Yep. It's such a small space, hanging the drywall won't take more than a day. Two days to mud and sand it, a day to paint, a day to lay the floor, a day to trim everything out and day to paint the trim...so that's what...exactly seven days? Then we get to move all Kat's stuff in." I shimmy down the roof, and land with a thud on my feet, not spilling a drop of beer.
I feel Kat's eyes on me from the barn loft. I can always feel her now, when she's watching me.
It's an amazing thing, finding a next level with the woman you love.
I thought before, that we were in love. And we were. For many years, I have loved Kat with an attraction and a devotion I never felt for anyone, and she loved me with a ferocity that only a HellKat could bring. But we were stuck for a long long time. Stuck waging a love in the middle of a rockstar life, slogging through a history we hadn't fully explored.
Since we've been in The Clink, we've cast aside our shields and lain down our weapons and the past's burdens. We've found simple joy and intimacy in the days—and nights. There is no more hiding behind fears, anxieties, or resentments. There's no more posturing.
Our love is no longer a stage, where we play out our roles. Our love is a home. Our love is a life.
I'm still staring into the sun, trying to see Kat through the barn loft door, where she and Mac have been holed up all day.
"What are they doin' up there?" I ask Adam. It's not like I can't hear what they are doing, but I just want him to confirm that the music I'm hearing is for what I think it is.
"Writing your wedding gift," he replies automatically with a grin.
Preston tags him in the shoulder. "That was supposed to be a secret, Leed."
Adam looks at Preston with fake coldness, then at me. He cracks a beer for himself. "Who told this fucker he could touch the rock stars?"
Prez shoves Adam again, and Adam throws down his beer and the two of them scuffle and laugh. Despite Prez's prison smarts, Adam—high school wrestler—has Prez in the dirt and in a headlock in under ninety seconds.
"Get the fuck off me, Preacher!" Prez tries to sound pissed through his laughter.
I chuckle. Yeah, Bodie knew what he was doing when he sent me this guy. I liked him fine as my weed dealer, but I got a whole new level of love for reformed Prez. He's gonna work out awesome as SCIC. Imma take him with to LA, when we go back. Just like Andy is our permanent front-of-house employee, Prez will be our full-time sound engineer. Fuck the LA studios; we'll produce our albums straight out the house, with Prez on the board, and Adam and I on oversight, until Prez learns everything he needs to know to produce our unique sound.
Adam lets Prez up, and tosses him another beer from the cooler. "Kat wants it to be a secret, but it can't be a secret. Cause if Trace doesn't know that Kat is planning to perform their wedding song, then he'll write a wedding song, and there can only be one wedding song, see?"
"Yeah, but..." Prez sips and gives me a quizzical look. "You're the rock star. Don't you want to be the guy with the song to sing to his bride?"
"It's all good," I assure Preston. "I wrote her an engagement song. Turn about is fair play. Besides, it's her day. If she wants to write me a song...I can't think of a better gift."
Adam grunts in agreement. "The real question is...when and where?"
I stare at the barn loft door. Since the moment Kat sent Quarterdick packing, our wedding was back on, in my mind. But we haven't talked about it. After we fully reconciled in that barn loft, I put Kat's promise ring back on her left hand, but even before that, I had ordered her a new engagement ring. I don't feel right, giving her the old one back. We are in an entirely new place. A new pact is required for our marriage.
"Before the babies come, I hope." Is all I say to Adam. "I want them to be...legitimate."
He squeezes my shoulder. "They were conceived in love and abide in love. The technicalities don't make a damn, brother."
"They do to me."
It doesn't make any sense that I have a hang-up about being a "bastard." I am technically "legitimate." My parents were married seven months before I was born; Ross signed my birth certificate. Ross Gallant is my legal father, and I am his legal son. But everything I thought I knew changed at one eventful LA party when I was twenty-one. I never want my kids to question the family story at some later date. I don't want them to think...rock star dad knocked up his girlfriend, and it took us being born to seal the deal.
I want my kids born in wedlock. I don't want them to have any doubt that our family was planned and wanted and worked for.
I want them to know what I know about my own father. As imperfect as Ross is, I know his commitment to me came from a love for my mother. A love that could not be broken by lies or disease. A love that saw the three of us through times that seemed impossible for love to survive. A love that has delivered me to a peace greater than the traumas I suffered. I love my children more than my own life, but I want them to understand—the love I bear them is fortified tenfold by the commitment I have for their mother.
I know she feels the same. It's just down to the perfect moment, now.
She appears at the ground level barn door, walks toward me in a sundress. Her beauty and her love and her pregnancy shining.
I stand stock still, and she keeps coming, til the babies bump up against me, and she delivers a kiss. "Knock off, okay baby? The work and the beer. We have to be in Chattanooga at eight..."
"We're done for the day, and it's light beer," I assure her.
It's a long-standing joke in SCIC that light beer is the same as water. She's not buying. To prove it, she pulls the can from my hands and takes a slow sip. I remove it from her mouth, immediately and dump it on the ground.
"I thought it was water," she murmurs with a smile.
"Rockstar water," I remind her. "Not an appropriate babymama beverage."
"Right," she says, with a swat to my ass.
Goddamn, I love this woman.
I dip to her collarbone, take a gulp of her, but she's turning away in embarrassment, looking at Adam and Preston as a means to quell my desire.
"So...Prez...you're heading home tonight, right?"
Sometimes Prez crashes on one of the couches in the barn. But tonight, I imagine Adam and Mac—without their two children and Mac solidly over her first trimester morning sickness—will be taking advantage of our romantic loft bed. Prez needs to go the fuck home to Chattown.
"You know it," he winks at Adam.
"I'll cook breakfast in the morning," Kat offers to Adam, who grins big.
"I'll work up an appetite, then."
There was a time when Adam and I would have high-fived over such a blatantly positioned sexual innuendo, but we are maturing. We merely smirk at one another while Kat rolls her eyes and Prez pops another beer in frustration.
Kat moves toward the house, tugging on my hand. "Will you guys pick up the nails? Trace needs to shower, and I don't want us to be late..."
"Yes ma'am," Prez says, while Adam gives me a meaningful glance.
Kat is being chill. Way more chill than she could be. Tonight is a big night.
###
Dr. Call-Me-Kade is not a medical anomaly. Or so he says. He claims a line of doctors going back to the Civil War.
He says there are eight doctors in his lineage, but it's his god-mother, Dr. Donalds, that's most important to me. Because Dr. Donalds is this the head of Ob-Gyn at the hospital in Chattanooga where Kat is going to deliver. It's Dr. Donalds that has arranged for our after hours visit in her office. It's Dr. Donalds that arranged for Kade's temporary medical privileges at the Chattanooga hospital—some two and a half hours from where Kade practices medicine—nevertheless Kade is approved in Chattown to deliver our twins.
In the way back of my mind, the rock star still thinks Officer Malone is my new best bud because he always come through for the confinement exemptions I need to cross the county line and into Tennessee with Kat for her doctor's appointments. I fucking love Malone, but he is not going to deliver my children safely to this earth, is he?
Fuck no. Dr. Donalds and Dr. Call-Me-Kade are my guys. I'm all about them.
I swear to God, I don't know who I'm more in love with. Kade for being awesome as always when we need a doc, or Dr. Donald's for being middle-aged chic but cool as fuck about the whole scenario.
Therefore, I gush with embarrassing enthusiasm as they usher Kat into the almost darkened doctor's office for her twenty week ultrasound. Yep. Today is the big day. We are praying that we learn the twins are developing perfectly, and we are excited to learn the sex of the babies.
Kat is all nervous chatter with Dr. Donalds as I help her up onto the exam table and the doc explains the various measurements and marks of development she will be looking for. I think of all the SCIC born absolutely perfect. Darius, Luis, Ollie, Lennon, Lyra, Lucy, Cash, Violet. It's a miracle really. Besides Ollie's genetically pre-determined diabetes, there isn't a medical challenge among them. It is possible that our family can be blessed with two more perfect, whole babies?
I have a strong desire to call Adam. I need a prayer. Not a prayer for perfection in my children. Just a prayer that I will be strong enough, no matter what challenges they may face. I must look nervous, because Kade squeezes my shoulder, not offering any promises, just offering his calm cool confidence that he's with us, no matter what.
"Okay, Kat, you ready?" To my surprise, he hands me the bottle of gel to squeeze on her stomach. "Go for it, man."
I give Kat a grin and squeeze hard, making her gasp and laugh as the stuff splats cool across her belly.
Okay, Dr. Thomas, how are your ultrasound skills?" She holds out the doppler thingy, and from the glint in her eyes, I can tell she's teasing her godson.
He raises his hands. "Hey, I just like catching babies. I'll leave the real work to you and to Kat, of course."
She turns her smile to Kat. "You sure you want to let this punk be the first with hands on your babies?"
"He's never let us down yet," she winks at Kade.
"Okay, well let's see what these little ones look like..."
With the ice broken, Kat and I both breathe sighs of relief that turn into murmurs of happiness as the doc points out the features of our babies. Brains, spines, hearts, organs femurs, hands, toes, everything is perfect. I split my time watching the monitor and watching Kat's face. She's lit up with joy. The only time it dims slightly is when the doctor mentions their kidney measurements, and I know that has nothing to do with the babies, but with her mother, whose kidneys are failing and who continues on dialysis, waiting until the time when it begins to fail as well, and she needs a transplant.
But for right now, Ellen is stable. Kat's momentary worry does not diminish her joy as the doc asks. "So do you want to know the sexes of the babies?"
"Yes," Kat nods eagerly. I'm already holding her hand, and I kiss the top of her head. All along, I've hoped for a boy and a girl, but in this moment, I hope Kat gets what she wants. I know she'll love our children no matter whether boy or girl, but the twin pregnancy has been so daunting for her; I just want this part of it to roll her way.
"Dr. Thomas, surely you can handle identifying this," Dr. Donalds jokes.
"Baby B is a...boy," Kat smiles as he points to the obvious feature that Dr. Donalds resolves with perfect practice. Baby B's anatomy a bit more...pronounced than I expected.
Kat laughs. I laugh and say, "Looks like a rock star to me..."
"Naw, that's a surgeon right there," Kade corrects.
"You two are idiots," Kat says, but with a smile.
The doc has more trouble getting a visual on baby A. After a few minutes of trying, she presses firmly on Kat's side, coaxing the baby to move. She tries again, this time with success.
"Baby B is having a brother. Maybe this one is a rock star..." Kade announces.
"I knew it," Kat laughs until she cries. I say a silent prayer of gratitude for their health and her happiness. I take the moment to put the small box with her new engagement ring into her hands. She grins. "It's not time for a push present."
"It's not a push present. And it's more than a promise to you. It's a commitment to fight for this family always," I murmur into her hair. "Marry me, Katheryn. Marry me before these babies are born. Forever can't come soon enough."
She opens the box and looks at the new ring, even lovelier than the first. I doubt she can see it very well, on account of the tears in her eyes.
"I will marry you tomorrow," she manages to say. "At a court house, at a twenty-four hour chapel...anywhere, anytime."
"Even Vegas?" I tease.
She rolls her eyes, but she is grinning. "Even Vegas, if you can get permission from your correctional officer."
"Wow, you really do love me."
"I do."
And as simply as that, in this doctor's office, looking at the images of our babies—our future—Kat and I are back on track.
Before the gunk is even wiped off Kat's stomach, Kade pulls his phone. "Can I do the honors? The bets are big..."
Kat laughs. "Go for it."
He texts the SCIC thread on the phone:
Break out the blue cigars, kids! HellKat is growing two baby boys!
Riley is the first to text back: Congrats! The winners are...Leed, Ashlynn, Bridge, Marianne, and Mac. With so few outcomes, it was low odds, I'm afraid. I'll Venmo your meager winnings...
The texts begin to pour in, with everyone offering congratulations.
Row: Two little rascals! Awesome! I bet on a thumbsucker. Did I win?
Adam: I bet on a shy guy that had to be coaxed to reveal his sex. Did I win?
Kade: In fact you both did. Baby A was sucking his thumb, all curled up. We had to shake him awake.
Row: Hell yeah! Pay up, Riley.
Adam: Word.
Riley: Bloody hell. Thumbsucker. Really? I gave Row a personal bet on that one. I lost 500 bucks.
Row: Sorry, Riley—it was a fair wager.
Riley: Don't worry, I'll send you the money. I honor MY commitments...
Row: Let's not go there, Riley. Not today.
Riley: I so agree. There is nowhere left to go, darling.
Bodie: Hey. Let's keep the focus on the positive news, guys.
Riley: Apologies. It's a great day for SCIC. Congratulations TrayKat!
I sigh, but refuse to go down Riley's dark rabbithole. I text the group back.
I think Kat and I are the clear winners here. Two healthy babies.
Leed: That's right. Ballard A and Ballard B are halfway here! It's time to start a new pool on their birthdays...
###
Afterward the appointment, we have a late dinner with Kade in a very out of the way place Dr. Donald's recommended. It feels weird for me. I haven't been in a public place in a while now. Fortunately, no phone cameras flash and no one comes over for autographs, and Kat and I don't have to worry about our fame or any of the potential bad press happening that we refuse to discuss with Riley or Marcy or any SCIC.
We are in a complete publicity black hole by choice. I don't even have any idea if the press has caught wind of my assault plea-deal and house arrest arrangement. I don't know if the press is aware that our wedding didn't happen. I have no idea if Ashlynn is still taking unfair heat for video bomb that exploded the secret of our secret marriage, or if the tide of public opinion has turned against me, or worse, Kat.
We'll deal with all that later. Right now, we are just a man and a woman in love, making a life and a family.
But, when Kat goes to the bathroom, Kade reminds me that I can't leave all family concerns behind. He tells me that his transplant coordinator friend who has been keeping an eye on the transplant list says there is a potential swap match with a guy in Maine who is willing to donate his kidney in exchange for one for his wife. And that I'm a match for that lady, who has two little kids.
"If you're serious about the Swap program, it's time to officially enroll. Ellen is stable and can have the surgery. This woman in Maine...there is another potential match for her, but your antigen profile is a better match. She'd have a little less worry of rejection with your kidney than the other potential donor. But if you don't act fast...the other arrangement will be finalized."
There was a time I might have given a different answer than the one I give Kade, I guess. He looks a little surprised when I say, "It's not up to me. I need to talk to Kat about it. I will lay out the idea to her first. My life—hell, my kidney—is not my own to give. Everything I am belongs to her and those baby boys she's carrying. It's our family and her mother. That makes it mostly her decision."
And on the drive home, that's exactly what I do. I tell her about the Swap program. I tell her Kade has been checking out the transplant list on the the down-low. I tell her everything he told me. I tell her I want to have as many conversations with her as it takes to make a decision about whether or not we should offer this is an option to her mother. I tell her I'm willing to discuss all the details, the risks, the complications, but that it's an option—me giving a kidney. I tell her I will not make this decision until we are in one hundred percent agreement that it's a thing we should or should not do. I tell her I want to hash it out with her first, then the family at large if she wants. I tell her I already fucked up by talking to Leed about it a few months ago, when I should have been talking to her first, but I'm done fucking up and hiding things from her.
She's quiet as we drive in darkness. "You would do this, to save Ashlynn from donating her kidney?" she finally asks.
I've promised Kat honesty. "Yes," I say. "Because I think the potential risks of her donating are greater than the risks I would face. She's my sister, my family. I would do this to save anyone in my family that I thought was more at risk than me. But you are my wife—my life. It's a decision we have to make together."
"Except that I'm not."
I reach for her hand and kiss her new ring. "You are the wife of my heart. You can be my legal wife any time you like."
She looks at me. "I would marry you tomorrow, you know."
"Let's do it. We can go to the courthouse in Caloosa County. Adam and Mac can stand up with us. Officer Malone will have to be your flower girl," I wink. I'm teasing her. I'm pretty sure she has a different plan in mind.
"As rock-starish as that sounds, I'd like the whole family there. I've always wanted a country wedding. Something simple. Just a nice family dinner afterward. At the Clink. Maybe next month?"
I smile. "You got it. But I know what you are thinking, and I'm not letting you climb that tree just for our wedding pictures..."
"If we get married under it, I will be just as happy," she assures me.
"Sounds like we have a small family wedding to plan."
"We have a lot more than that to talk about. I think the main consideration with the kidney donation is timing. You and mom will need time to recover from the surgery, after the wedding and before the babies come..."
Shock courses through me. "You...you think me donating is a good idea?"
"Do you I want you cut open on a table and your kidney removed from your body? No, I think that's a terrible idea. But I love my sister and I love my mom and they are both...fragile. I can't stand the thought of anything happening to them. You are not fragile. You are incredibly strong in every way. You would come through the surgery fine. You would never leave me. Not like that. You're too stubborn, and you love me too much."
I grin at her, kissing her hand again. "That's true."
Three days later, having talked through all the risks, options, and timelines, Kat and I decide that I will donate my kidney. We call a family Zoom meeting with her parents, mine, and Ashlynn and Leed, and Kade, to answer questions.
In less than five minutes, I've cut off the small talk and get down to the point, explaining the Kidney Swap Program. I'm expecting push-back from Ellen, and Ashlynn, but to my surprise, Matt is the one whose body language looks negative. He shakes his head, grimaces, and gives meaningful looks into the camera likes he expects someone else to object to my plan, but he doesn't interrupt me.
When I'm done, Matt rubs his lips and says, "I know it's not my decision, but you're my son, and I don't love the idea of you donating your kidney at twenty-nine years old. Not with the lifestyle you lead. Not with the medical history in my family. The addiction, the heart disease. My own dad had kidney disease. What is from the drinking or the heart disease or just two many kidney punches being an amateur boxer? It's hard to say, but it's part of your medical history. At fifty? Sixty? You might need that kidney. I would much rather buy Ellen a kidney—"
"That's what I said," Leed interjects.
"Nobody's buying kidneys off the black market," Marianne says sharply.
"That's what I said," I chime in.
Ellen smiles into the camera. "Trace, you're so wonderful and loving, and I appreciate your willingness to give me a kidney, but I'm afraid you've done all this legwork and decision making for nothing, dear. I already have a private kidney donor that is a high match. Almost as high as Ashlynn. We've just been waiting for things to settle down between you and Kat, to move forward with the surgery."
"A private kidney donor?" Kat demands at the same time Ashlynn says, "Who?"
"Me."
Most of us turn to one particular field on the zoom call. "You?"
"Yeah, me." My dad is grinning into the camera. Ross, I mean.
"I thought it was a long shot to be a match, but with Kat pregnant, and Ashlynn's health problems, it just seemed like every possible avenue should be investigated. I was shocked, when I came back such a high match." He smiles, and I think the smile is for Kat's mom. "Then I got the health screening and they say I have a green-light to donate. My kidneys, my liver, all systems in great shape, despite the fifteen years of heavy drinking."
"We have an amazing capacity to heal," Ashlynn smiles at him. "Our bodies are miracles."
I see tears well up in his eyes. "You're right, Ashlynn. Life is sometimes miraculous."
Everyone is smiling like the problem is solved, but I feel...scared. Almost frantic. I feel like I just got my dad back after a lifetime of him being in pain. I don't want to risk losing him to pain again.
"Wait, wait, wait," I say. "This is not the best solution. I'm younger, healthier, it's not a sobriety challenge for me to take pain meds, the risk is less for me..."
"Trace, listen to me, Son," Ross murmurs. "You need to take care of Kat right now. And you need to be one hundred percent when the babies come. And I need to do this. It's amends, Son—for all the pain I've caused this family. I'm meant to do this."
I can see that my dad means it. I can see that my mom's eyes are filled with pride and love for him. She supports this entirely. I see Ashlynn on the verge of tears of gratitude, and I see Leed flooded with relief. I see Ellen brimming with thankfulness and I see Mike more at peace than I've seen him in a long time. I see Matt and Marianne giving thoughtful expressions of approval.
I crack my neck. I turn to Kat—the only one who isn't thrilled. The only reason she isn't thrilled is because she can read the tension coming off me. She can feel my fear, just like she could when she was ten and I was fourteen. "It's okay," she tells me. Her voice is soothing and sure. Except this time, she knows it's fear for my dad, not fear of him. "It will be okay. He will be okay. The doctors will take care of him. And he has just as much to live for as you do."
I want to protest more, but as I look into her eyes, I feel her confidence and love, and it strengthens me. It reminds me I don't have to fight against everything and everyone. I don't have to be afraid. My dad is right. I can let him take care of this and take the pressure off me. My main responsibility—my only purpose—is right here beside me. She always has been, and I'm the luckiest man in the world to finally feel the peace of
I take her hand in mine and squeeze. She nods, with silent encouragement. I take a deep breath. "Okay, Dad. If you're sure, I'm sure."
"There are only a few things I've ever been more sure of, Son. I'm supposed to do this. Ellen will get her health back, and I'll be fine. In four months your babies will be born and have two sets of healthy grandparents fighting to babysit."
"Three. These are my first grandkids, too, you know. You think I've been practicing on those bandgrands for nothing?" Matt cuts in dryly and everyone erupts into laughter. For the first time, this motley crew of Gallants, Ballards and del Marco's feels like a tight family to me.