The question freezes me.
I pause, still crouched, and look up at her, then toward the door. Cold slides through me. It didn’t beep. I didn’t notice. I never turned it on.
I leave the mess where it is and run for the bedroom.
“Treble? Bass? Come here, babies,” I call, careful to keep the fear out of my voice.
They aren’t in the bedroom.
I check the closet. The bathroom.
Nothing.
They’re usually curled together at the foot of the bed.
“Notes? Treble? Bass?” My voice drops. “Where are my good boys?”
A muffled thump sounds.
My knees give out. I sink to the floor, then crawl the last few steps and peer under the bed.
Four wide brown eyes stare back at me, tails thumping tentatively against the bedpost.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “You’re good boys.”
Treble inches forward, cautiously. As his head appears, I press a kiss to his nose and stroke his head. It’s the signal they both need. They wriggle into my lap, competing for my neck and chin.
I dodge their affection as best I can and bury my face between their warm bodies, drawing a deep, shuddering breath.
I need to protect my sweet babies.
I pull them close, then stand, brushing off my backside, and head downstairs.
The mess is gone.
Meg is walking back in, Coulson just behind her.
I lift a hand in a half wave. “Let me take them outside. Do you mind talking there?”
He nods and we head out into the yard, the dogs' earlier caution now forgotten as they race around noses to the ground.
“Thank you for making time to come out so quickly.” Fishing in my skirt pocket, I find a pony and quickly pull my hair up in a loose knot.
“No problem, Meg filled me in out front.” His eyes scan the property before resting on mine.
My smile is wan. “Originally I was going to say I think we need to increase security. But then I came home and I realized. Ineed security here as well. I don’t want whoever is targeting me to come after the Notes.”
“I can assign a protection detail to you.”
I’m shaking my head before he finishes. “Someone at the house?” I ask. “For the dogs?”
I force my hands apart, my thumb worrying at my cuticles until I make myself stop.
“Do I need to be concerned about Meg?” I ask quietly. “Should she stay with her mom for a few days?”
His eyes assess me, quickly and efficiently, the way I have come to realize is distinctly Coulson.
“You’ve changed. Good. This version of you suits you better.”
