We now had three girls and one testosterone-pumped guy bird that spent every walking minute doing of of three things: pursuing sex, having sex or crowing boastfully about the sex he had just scored. Jenny observed that roosters are what men would be if left to their own devices, with no social conventions to rein in their baser instincts, and I couldn't disagree. I had to admit, I kind of admired the lucky bastard.

I found the only place I ever wanted to live again in this girl, right her in my arms. I leaned back just barely, ran my thumb from her brow o the tip of her nose and stopped at her lips, loving the way her eyes fluttered. “I’ll always come to you.