He nods.
“She looks just like Taren,” I murmur.
Jasmine hums thoughtfully from behind me. “She was only two years older. Forest took the sisters in when they were just kids themselves. Barely into adulthood. That was… wow, thirty years ago now.”
I nod automatically. I know shifters age differently than humans, so to hear Taren is in her fifties isn’t a shock to me. But something still knocks loose in my chest.
My jaw drops as something clicks into place. How did I not see it before?
“I’m half shifter,” I blurt.
They both turn to me, and then Rowen’s lips slowly curve into a smile. “Wondered when you’d make that connection.”
I press a hand to my chest. “I’m half shifter,” I say again, taking it in. “That means I’m going to…” I can’t quite form the words. “My lifespan. It won’t be—”
“Human?” Jasmine finishes gently. “No, sweetheart. It won’t. Red thinks you’ll age much more closely to us now.”
The room tilts just slightly. Not in fear. In disbelief.
“Holy shit.”
Rowen chuckles, touching my back. His thumb draws slow circles against my spine. He seems relieved—genuinely relieved, like he’s been waiting for me to realize it.
Jasmine pulls away. “Anyway, this isn’t what I wanted to show you. Come with me.”
She slips past us and heads toward a small circular door tucked into the far corner. I’d completely missed it before, too distracted by all the photos. But now that I see it…
My heart stalls. No. Way!
She gestures for me to go first.
Rowen follows, close enough that his hand brushes my ass as we squeeze into the small space. I’m almost giddy as he rotates the door around.
When we step through, the air rushes out of me. I cover my mouth and stifle a bubble of excitement.
The faint chemical smell hits me first, then the warmth of the red bulb overhead. The trays. The racks. The metal drying lines. Two ancient enlargers against the wall.
“It’s a… darkroom,” I whisper.
Rowen’s voice is quiet when he answers. “It was my dad’s. He used to spend hours in here when I was a kid.” His fingers trace the side of an enlarger like it’s something sacred.
Jasmine steps in beside us, tucking her sleeves into her palms. “And now it’s yours.”
My throat tightens so hard I almost choke. This—this isn’t something temporary. This isn’t like the clothes or cameras they’ve given me. I can’t just shove this into a backpack when it’s time to run.
This is a part of theirhome.
This is them saying,stay.
“I—I don’t know what to say.”
“You can start by saying you at least know how to use these enlarger thingys,” Jasmine says, trying to lighten the moment. “Because I sure as heck don’t. Glen tried to teach me, but it didn’t go well.”
A weak laugh scrapes out of me. “I mean, yeah. I spent hours in the darkroom in high school and college. I loved it.”
Her soft exhale tells me she had been nervous about putting this together. “Good. There’s fresh paper in the cabinet, and five gallons of new developer. I don’t know what else you need, but if you tell me, I’ll get it.”
The question spills out of me before I can stop it. “Why, though?”
