Cody nodded solemnly. “I hear you, Dad.”

Hop felt something in the room. He looked to his wife and he saw she wasn’t laughing anymore. Her face was soft, her eyes were warm and he felt that warmth deep down, straight into his bones.

He returned the look then aimed his gaze back at his son.

“More advice,” he started. “You can get your experience in about seven years. Now, concentrate on kickball or something.”

“I already kill at kickball,” Cody bragged. “Don’t need no practice at that.”

“Right, whatever,” Hop replied, “I think you get me.”

Cody studied him before giving in by mumbling, “I get you.”

“Good,” Hop stated. “Now, feed me. I’m starved.”

Cody grinned.

Lanie got him a cup of coffee and gave it to him with a kiss on his jaw before she turned her attention back to supervising waffles.

Then they all sat at the kitchen table, Hopper Kincaid at the head with his family around, talking, laughing, giggling, shooting the shit over waffles.

It wasn’t a birthday. It wasn’t a holiday.

It still felt like a celebration.

And, even though it started shit, it was the best day of his life.

Just like every day after he won the love of Elaine Heron Kincaid.

But especially the day, seven months later, when his wife gave him his second son.

Nash Kane Kincaid.