Rafe
An arrow whizzes past my head, brushing my ear, and I chuckle when three little monsters run toward me.
“Gotcha, Dad!” Nathan yells as he rushes off to find his plastic arrow.
“You sure did, bud.”
“Did you see that, Daddy?” Tavian looks at me with wide, excited eyes. “Nathan is getting so good!”
I nod. “He is, and you’re not doing too bad yourself, Tavian.” I lift Steele into my arms when he starts climbing my leg.
“You really think so?”
“I really think so.” I wink at my middle son, and he laughs.
It’s been three years since Nathan’s ceremony, and they have been wonderful years. Nathan and Tavian are now six, which is weird when they’re not twins. But being only six months apart, they will always be the same age for half a year. Tavian is also the absolute image of me. Whene
