Meeting your child for the second time

Reggie filled the doorway, his massive frame unchanged—six-foot-six of solid muscle, bald head gleaming in the porch light, pale skin lined only slightly more than they remembered. His expression shifted from guarded hostility to shock, his eyes widening.

"Holy shit," he breathed, his deep voice sending vibrations through the floorboards. "Holy SHIT."

And then they were enveloped in his arms, crushed against his chest in a bear hug that would have broken human bones. "You crazy sons of bitches," he rumbled, his voice thick with emotion. "You actually made it back."

When he finally released them, they saw his eyes were wet. "Five years," he said, shaking his head. "Five goddamn years we waited. Nana never gave up. Said you'd be back. Crazy old woman was right."

"Reggie," Rose's voice broke. "Celena?"