“Alright, recruits, let’s go! Front and center. Roll call.”I stand at the foot of the stairs and tilt my head, listening for the pitter-patter of little feet on the floor above.

Beside me, my best helper, nine-year-old Faith, makes moves to climb the steps. “Want me to get them?”

“They’ll be down.” Bellowing louder, I call up, “We’re on the clock, girls!”

A little blonde head pokes out of the room that used to be Kira’s, way back when. “Are you calling us?”

I shake my head and smile. “Who else would I be calling, Grace?”

“But we’re not recruits, Daddy Grizz!” Six-year-old Grace, our youngest, comes stomping down the steps, her stuffed cat tucked under her arm. Twelve-year-old Felicity’s next, her head bent to the phone she’s tapping away on, and ten-year-old Hope is last. Hope usually asks if she can finish a chapter of whatever book she’s reading before she comes out of her room, but she knows we have a mission.

“You’re recruits today,” I tell Grace as Felicity tucks her phone in her back pocket and the four girls line up. “It’s go time. Same plan we talked through yesterday. No surprises, except the good one at the end, okay?” I look at each of them, collecting their agreement. Grace gives me a little salute, a determined expression on her face, and I have to hold back a laugh at how cute she is.

“Felicity and Faith, kitchen duty. Hope, you’re on decorations. Grace, set the best-looking table you’ve ever set, okay? I’ll be around to help wherever I’m needed.”

The girls scatter in the appropriate directions. Grace sets Kitty on one of the dining room chairs, then retrieves the special table supplies from their hiding spot.

Our big dining room table, the one that used to be mostly empty before Felicity was born, is now nearly full every day. When the girls have friends over, or when we have company, we need to bring out folding tables. I have plans in mind to make a bigger table that will hopefully hold grandchildren someday, but we have plenty of time for that.

My last big project was a playset out back, with a slide, tire swing, and climbing wall. The girls also have a treehouse that’s Hope’s favorite place to read in the summer.

So much has changed around the compound. It’s still Sentinel HQ, though we’re more selective these days, and the business is more focused on prevention and training, so we have plenty of time for our family.

We built an addition onto the house several years back, and the girls now have the bedrooms that used to be ours. The new wing includes a large shared sleeping room with a bed that’s much bigger than the dining room table. There are two smaller adjacent bedrooms we sometimes use, and often don’t. Two large bathrooms, a dressing room, and a deck with a nice, quiet view of the mountains round out the space.

“Are we supposed to put olives in the salad, Daddy Grizz?” Faith calls over. “I can’t remember.”

“Olives, cucumbers, tomatoes, and shredded carrots,” Felicity tells her before I have a chance. Felicity’s a great older sister. Her leadership instincts are strong, and she’s always patient with her younger siblings.

She’s brave like Kira, too.

Felicity had a school assignment about genetics earlier in the year that prompted some questions. After a family discussion among us adults, Kira decided Felicity was ready to learn about her biological father. Kira and Atlas had a discussion with Felicity about it down in ops, which Felicity refers to as our “work cave.”

The three of them sitting at the table reminded me a lot of the briefings Atlas used to give Kira when she first came here, but thank god, Felicity isn’t in danger like Kira had been. And neither of them has to worry about Preston Vaughn.

Vaughn’s corruption charges expanded into arms facilitation, campaign finance laundering, and misuse of classified access. His cooperation didn’t save him. He was convicted on multiple counts, and he has decades left to serve.

Felicity asked smart questions about the man, the same way Kira had all those years ago, and I know there will be more questions in the months and years ahead. What matters is that she knows we’ll always protect her, and we will always be her home.

Atlas is her legal father, since only one of us could adopt her, but Silas and I are her dads, too. And so far, learning the truth about her biological father has only made our family bonds stronger.

Biologically, each of us fathered one of the other three girls. That was the plan, and it worked. Under this roof, genetics don’t matter much beyond paperwork. We’re all parents to all four of them, the same way, and that’s not up for debate.

I help Hope hang streamers and tie balloons around the room, then check in on the progress in the kitchen. I made most of the food ahead of time, and it only needs to be reheated, but there’s a lot of it. “The cornbread is ready to go in the oven as soon as the macaroni and cheese and vegetables come out,” Felicity reports. “The pulled pork is ready.”

“All good. Fruit salad?”

“Ready and waiting in the fridge,” Faith says.

Grace has the table ready and is pouring chips and pretzels into bowls under Felicity’s guidance.

I check my watch for the latest message from Silas. He took Atlas and Kira into town so the girls and I could get things ready. “Alright,” I tell the troops. “Cupcake operation is a go.”

This announcement receives cheers, clapping, and a near collision in a rush to the pantry. The girls bring out the frosting, sprinkles, and everything else that could conceivably be used as a decoration, and spread their supplies on the counter next to the two dozen cupcakes I quietly baked yesterday.

“I’m making one for Mommy,” Hope says, “with exactly forty sprinkles on top.”

“I don’t think we have time for that kind of precision work,” I tell her.

“How about putting the sprinkles in the shape of a four and a zero for Mom, and a six and a zero for Papa Atlas?” Felicity suggests.

“Daddy Silas likes coconut on his,” Faith reminds us as she reaches for it, “and Papa Atlas likes chocolate chips.”

Grace pats my arm. “I’m making one with tons of extra sprinkles for you, Daddy Grizz!”

I swallow the lump in my throat and tell her to be sure to make one like that for herself, too. It’s in moments like these, when all of the girls are together, having fun, that I think about what Kira brought into this house. Without her, none of this would have been possible.

It turns out love isn’t some abstract idea. It’s four girls decorating cupcakes and wrecking my kitchen with sprinkles.

My phone pings with another update from Silas.

“They’re on their way back,” I say. “We have twenty minutes to wrap up, clean up, and get in position.”

As the girls put the final touches on their edible works of art, I check the food, then survey the space. The table is a colorful riot of paper plates, cups, and napkins. Kitty’s still sitting there, waiting for the party to start.

The beams are decorated with swirling, twisted crepe paper, and clusters of balloons are anchored all around the room.

“You all did great,” I tell the girls. “They’re going to love it.”

“Oh, we forgot the cards! And the posters!” Hope races up the stairs, followed by Felicity, and they return less than a minute later with the items all four of them decorated in secret over the past week.

When the time comes, the four girls hide behind the couch. They get into position quickly, but it takes longer for the giggles to die down.

Silas and our honorees come into the mudroom. There are muffled voices as they remove their jackets. Then, Kira’s voice is louder. “It smells so good in here. Grizz, what did you—”

“Surprise!” The girls jump out from their hiding spot with their Happy Birthday posters, and the five of us shout our greetings. Even though I’m not the one meant to be surprised, I am, because I didn’t expect Atlas to be caught off guard. His face tells me we managed our mission—he’s truly shocked.

While he’s still ready, willing, and able to protect his family with his life, becoming a father has mellowed him. He knows how to relax and have fun, and he’s not quite as vigilant as he used to be.

Silas, who’s currently grinning, is still vigilant as hell, but he’s mellowed in his own ways.

“What’s going on?” Kira bends to accept a big group hug from four excited girls, as I take a few mental pictures. Kira is the best mom, and there’s nothing better than seeing how happy she is when she’s with our daughters.

“Happy birthday, Mommy! Happy birthday, Papa Atlas!” the girls shout.

“It’s not our birthdays yet,” Atlas says as he gets pulled into the group hug.

“That’s where the surprise part comes in,” Silas says, ruffling Grace’s hair as she leads the group over to give him hugs, too. Our home is as well stocked with affection these days as it is with emergency supplies.

“We’ll have a party with friends in a couple of weeks, but we wanted to kick off the big month with a family celebration,” I explain. “It’s not every year you both have milestone birthdays.”

Ten years ago this month, when Kira turned thirty and Atlas turned fifty, Felicity was still toddling around, Hope was only a few months old, and we’d just found out Kira was pregnant with Faith, so babies overshadowed those milestones, though we had special dinners on each of their birthdays.

This year, we have the time and energy to celebrate properly.

“Who’s hungry?” I call out, raising my voice to be heard over all the chatter.

Kira gives Silas a sly smile. “Now I know why you didn’t want to eat in town.”

He squeezes her hand, then leads her over to the table. Grace and Felicity are holding Atlas’s hands and bringing him over as they tell him what’s on the menu and what’s in store for dessert.

Kira breaks away from the group and comes over to me, stretching up on her toes to wrap her arms around my neck and give me a kiss. “Thank you for all this,” she says.

“You’re welcome, but it was a group effort. That will be very clear when you see the enthusiasm in the cupcakes we’re having for dessert.”

She shakes her head, smiling fondly. “I can’t believe I’m about to turn forty this month.”

I kiss her again. “I can’t believe how you keep getting more beautiful with each year that passes.”

Her lips part, like she’s about to disagree, but then she closes them. “Thank you,” she says after a beat, as her hands stroke the back of my neck and she smiles up at me. “I guess that’s what happiness will do to a woman.”

We share one more quick kiss, and then we join our family for the celebration.

©2026 Stephanie Brother

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