I braced myself for the awkwardness, but it never hit. Xavier picked up the board game where they'd left off. "So, Mere. Are you going to take the castle, or just threaten to all night?"
Mere's grin was feral. "Watch and learn, Sheriff."
In that moment, she didn't look like a scared kid. She looked like herself, whip-smart, unbreakable, hungry for the next challenge.
Damon sipped his cider, still scratching Huey. "Nice recovery. This one's a keeper. Most dogs take weeks to stop barking at shifters."
Fifi, finally tuning in, piped up. "Huey's not smart. He'll chase his own tail if you bribe him with sausage."
Damon's face cracked into a sly smile. "Good to know. Might try it with Evan later."
In her carrier, Lola put on another show. This time, she curled her whole body into a tight white comma, then uncoiled like she could will the wire mesh into submission.
Mere noticed, and stage-whispered, "She's going to learn how to pick the lock. I swear she's part ferret."
Even Livia smirked at that. "If she does, she can have Evan's room. He's her favorite."
Evan made a noncommittal grunt, but didn't deny it.
For a few glorious minutes, things settled. No alarms, no worry, just the low thrum of a family figuring out a new shape.
Chance leaned against the mantle, his eyes on the whole room. He was watching every entrance, every shadow. But his hand kept returning to my shoulder, the curve of my hip, little checks, like he couldn't quite believe I was still there.
I'd have to be blind not to see the tension under every movement. Nobody turned their back on a door. Except for the girls, anyway. Drinks were cradled left-handed. The right was always loose and ready. WhenXavier made his rounds, he scanned the windows each time, eyes not fixing on anything too long.
But the warmth undercut it.
Mere dominated the board game, bluffing Xavier out of a dozen moves in a row. Fifi started slowly, mainly drinking her cider, eyes half-closed, but once she warmed up, she unleashed snark that had even Damon smiling. He shot her a "not bad, kid" when she explained the rules back to him in three sentences flat.
They fit.
I tried not to get emotional, but it punched me right in the solar plexus. Fifi and Mere, more comfortable in their skins as they hadn't been in years.
Livia parked herself on the ottoman across from me. She took a measured sip, then gave a look that said, "You holding up?"
I didn't lie. "I sure never thought it'd be like this."
She nodded, eyes softening just a fraction. "Sometimes, what you need isn't what you expect."
Chance leaned in, his arm pressing heat along mine. "If anyone wants food, I think Mom made sandwiches the size of my head."
Fifi perked up. "Are there more cinnamon rolls?"
Damon raised a finger. "I already called dibs on the last three. Sorry, kid."
"Oh, come on," she moaned, but it was puretheater. "Not even one for the traumatized hostage? Mom would give me hers."
Chance shot her a glare. "That's not funny."
She shrugged, undeterred. "She's my Mom. She has to. It’s in the rules."
Livia nodded sagely. “She’s right. It is.”
Even Evan barked a laugh at that. It didn’t seem like Livia to joke around. The girls brought out a softer side of her.
I watched as Fifi let herself be part of the chaos. For once, no flinching, just straight up sixteen-year-old sarcasm. Mere kept one hand braced on her twin's knee under the table. They’d done that since they were tiny.
Huey stretched in Damon's lap, belly up, every inch of him convinced he'd won the lottery. Damon must've had magic hands, because even when the twins tried to coax him away, the damn dog wouldn't budge.
