Jonah wasn't lying when he said he got himself a bunch of tattoos. He and I got our first ones together in Miami—I got Cherish on my chest, and he got a big ass whale across his. Since then he's covered himself in a dozen more and looks more hardcore than I know he really is.

Because damn, he can put the babies to sleep about as well as I can.

He's been here a week, and already he and I have set to adding an addition to the house. When Jaxon and his buddies found out, they told their women to come get my babies and helped us get the addition built in no time.

With their help, we build three simple bedrooms off the main cabin. Though it’s not technically mine--my father was given it after my uncle died-- we all figure if he ever thought about showing his face back on this mountain he'd be running for the hills, knowing we all had plans to whoop his ass.

"It means a hell of a lot," I tell them, knowing everyone has taken time off work to help me put this house in order. The babies will appreciate it too—having enough room for them to learn to crawl and walk is a true blessing.

But it's hard to start counting them.

Stella, Wilder’s wife, insists on helping decorate. She used to be an interior designer and knows what she's doing. She picks out paint and fabric, and while the men are putting the finishing touches on the cabin remodel, she enlists the help of Josie, the girl who works at Rosie’s diner, to help her get the main cabin room together. I hardly recognize the place.

She's turned the place into a calm and comforting oasis. How she managed to do that with all the gear a set of triplets require is beyond me. She even turned a small nook into a space for Cherish, believing she will return one day, somehow. Cherish's guitar is hanging on the wall, and she framed a print with lyrics from a Beach Boy's song and added a plush blue chair where I can imagine the love of my life curled up, strumming her instrument.

"Thank you, Stella, I know you've never met her, but the fact you'd go to all this effort—"

She cuts me off. "You know, when I met Wilder he had just taken in his brother's newborn twins. I have a soft spot for a man who puts everything aside to take care of his children. What you've done the last five months is nothing short of incredible." She wipes a tear from her eye. "Your babies are all so precious, and we just hate that this has been the reality for you all."

Her husband, Wilder, comes up behind her, looking at me, and he smiles. "You making my woman cry?"

"I was just telling James that he has the sweetest babies." She pushes out her bottom lip. "I miss mine being so small."

Wilder scowls playfully. "Woman, you have plenty of babies in the house."

She shrugs, pouting. "But none so tiny. Mine talk back now."

"You’re not allowed to get baby fever, you understand," he tells her, wagging a finger at her, with a smile on his face.

Stella raises an eyebrow. "I know ways to make you change your mind."

"Uh, I think I'm gonna go check on Jonah," I tell them, not wanting to be here when they start getting all hot and bothered.

Stella twists her lips. "He's busy."

I narrow my eyes. "What's he doing?"

"He went to town with Josie. Something about needing supplies?"

I shake my head, having noticed the way Jonah looked at that waitress. She's a sweetheart but damn, she has that glazed over look that screams I want a baby, and I want you to be the daddy. There are too many kids up here, and she's been helping babysit all of them—I won't be surprised if she has Jonah wrapped around her finger by the end of the winter.

* * *

That weekend, the cabin is done. With more space to spread out, we've put the babies in their own cribs in one bedroom, set up another room for me, and the third is a guest room where Jonah is crashing.

Today, though, Josie came over to hang out on her day off. She and Jonah are in the babies’ room installing a closet organizer and I'm loading the dishwasher. It's like we're a big happy family—except we are missing the one person I need for this to work.

I close the dishwasher door, and head to the record player, I ordered it online, a copy of Pet Sounds too—Cherish's favorite—and let the song Let's Go Away For Awhile fill the low rafters of the cabin, and I add a few logs to the fireplace. I'm guessing a winter snowstorm is going to come in the next few weeks, and the chill has already come through.

I'm handing Jacob, who's in a Jump-a-Roo in the living room, a teething biscuit when there is a knock on the door.

Frowning, I walk over and pull it open, not expecting anyone, and not having heard a car pull in.

When I open the door, I find a young woman who looks like she's seen better days.

Much better days.

She wears a long dirty dress, a bulky winter coat about three sizes too big, and a pair of sturdy boots, and her hair's in a long braid.

"James?" she asks, her eyes filled with exhaustion.

My eyes narrow. "Who are you?"

She swallows, then reaches into her coat pocket. "I'm a friend of Cherish. And she asked me to give this to you." The woman unfurls her hand, and in her palm, is the guitar pick that has crisscrossed the country.

"You know where Cherish is?" I ask, my hands shaking as I take the pick from her.

She nods. "Yes. And she needs you. Now more than ever."