“I told him we weren’t going to give them that option.” Richter looks at me.Sometimes it’s just fun to make them panic.
I didn’t realize he was a sadist.
As always, Jess stands up from their interrogation and slaps her thighs. “I’ve worked up an appetite, let’s eat.”
Kissu bats the playpen to the table and Jess watches him. “I know it’s not what I imagine, but sometimes, when he sits there watching them, it feels like they’re fish in a bowl and he’s hungry.”
“That definitely isn’t what it is.” Chrys pauses to drop a kiss to the top of his head. “He’s their guardian now. And honestly, he’s the best baby monitor in the universe.”
Laurel puts her son in a high chair beside her, and Trench and Richter ferry the plates to the table as we all sit. And I can’t help but glance at the dark slash of our old outpost out the window.
It was a cold prison we didn’t know we’d locked ourselves into… This is a home.
Chrys takes my hand and squeezes.Our home.
But her smile fades a moment later.
“There’s a storm coming.” She glances out the window behind us at the clear sky and then looks to Shock. “How long do we have?”
“An hour and a half before it hits us. Two for you.” He looks at Trench. “But another part of it is reaching around the opposite side of the caldera. You should probably leave now.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Laurel says sarcastically, and starts to get their son ready to go.
“You were looking for an excuse to leave,” I remind her. “Go home and get cozy.”
We still haven’t figured out exactly what temperature the outpost needs to be when we have guests.
“We’ll help clean up and get out of here too,” Trench says, reassuring Richter that the two of them can leave without pitching in.
Even with six of us, there are too many people, and I tell them to go away too. Jess says goodbye to Chrys and hurries to the door, but she does spare a sharp thought for me.
A reminder I’ve heard several times.You’re still on thin ice.
I ignore it. “Drive safe.”
And when we’re alone again, I let out a breath I wasveryaware I was holding.
“They’re not that bad,” Risk says as he hands Shock’s weeun to him.
“No, they’re not. But I’m still glad they’re gone.”
“We all are.” Chrys pushes up onto her toes and kisses me on the cheek. “Family is exhausting. But I’m very happy we have them.”
She squeezes my hand and looks at Risk, who has our daughter in his arms, offering her to me. “I think it’s nap time.”
None of us have to speak to agree.
The weeuns sleep best when it storms.
Their nursery is across the hall from ours, in a room with no windows. We removed the Lasap doors the previously unwanted tenants had installed.
Three beds that remind me too much of cages line the wall, but I lay her down and watch her for a moment.
Keep safe.
Kissu always does. “Thank you.”
He lays down beside the cribs, purring soft and low as they fuss and finally settle.
