"I know." Emma's voice went soft. "He's eight now. That's old for dogs."
"It is. But he's still strong."
"Will he..." Emma trailed off, watching Zeus trot back with the ball. "Will he be okay?"
Maddox's chest tightened. They'd had versions of this conversation before—Emma worrying and needing reassurance that the people and animals she loved wouldn't disappear. It wasnormal for any kid, but especially for one who'd spent her first five years in foster care, learning that people left.
She crouched down beside Emma. "Zeus is healthy. He's slowing down a little, but that's normal. He's going to be with us for a long time still."
"Promise?"
She couldn't promise that. Nobody could. But she could promise the truth. "I promise we'll take good care of him. And he'll let us know if he needs anything."
Emma seemed to accept this, throwing the ball again. Zeus brought it back and dropped it at her feet, tail wagging, and the worry slipped from her small face.
Inside, Jade appeared at the back door. "Bath time, Emma!"
"Aw, five more minutes?"
"We said twenty-five. It's been twenty-five."
Emma trudged toward the house with the dramatic resignation of a child who knew arguing wouldn't work. Zeus followed, ever faithful, and Maddox brought up the rear.
Bath time was Jade's territory. She was better at the negotiations, at convincing Emma that yes, she did need to wash behind her ears, no, she couldn't bring Zeus into the bathroom, yes, she had to use soap. Maddox put away the dishes and wiped down the counters, listening to the muffled sounds of splashing and Jade's patient redirections from upstairs.
By the time she finished, Jade was emerging from Emma's bathroom with damp spots on her sweater and exasperation barely hidden behind her smile.
"She tried to convince me that mermaids don't use shampoo, so why should she."
Maddox laughed. "What'd you say?"
"That mermaids don't go to elementary school either, but here we are."
They moved through Emma's bedtime routine together—pajamas, teeth brushing, the ongoing battle to pick up toys that would just be scattered again tomorrow. Emma picked out a book, one about a girl and her dog, and climbed into bed with Zeus already settling at her feet.
He'd claimed that spot a year ago, the first night Emma had come home with them permanently. She'd been scared and uncertain, calling them by their first names and flinching at sudden movements. That first night, Zeus had simply walked into her room and laid down beside her bed, and she'd stopped crying.
Now he did it every night and wouldn't sleep anywhere else.
Maddox sat on one side of Emma's bed, Jade on the other, and they took turns reading pages. Emma's eyes grew heavy halfway through, her hand curled in Zeus's fur, her breathing evening out. When the story ended, she was asleep.
Jade carefully extracted Emma's hand from Zeus's coat and tucked the blanket around her shoulders. Maddox reached down to scratch behind Zeus's ears before she walked out. They left the door cracked open and the hallway light on, the way Emma needed it.
In the hallway, Jade took Maddox's hand and squeezed. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "She's thriving."
"She is."
"We're doing okay at this."
"Better than okay."
Jade leaned into her shoulder, and they stood there for a moment in the quiet hallway, listening to Emma's soft breathing and Zeus's occasional shifting, the sounds of their family settling into sleep. It felt like they'd always been here, in this hallway, listening to their daughter breathe.
Their bedroom door closed with a quiet click. Maddox sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off her slippers while Jade changed into sleep clothes.
"Diana wants an answer by next week," Jade said, loosely braiding her hair. "About the fire department program."
"What are you thinking?"
