"You've always been a real person, kiddo." Asher sets down the coffee, joins our huddle on the floor. "Now you've got paperwork to prove it."
We sit there. Three people who had no right to find each other, holding on.
"So," Lily says finally, voice steadying. "What happens now?"
I look at Asher. He looks at me. We both look at Lily.
"Now we go home," I say.
"Home?"
"We're working on it." Asher grins. "But I'm thinking somewhere with a yard. For the dog."
"Biscuit."
"For Biscuit."
Lily's smile could light up the whole facility.
"Can we have a garden too? Like the one here? I want to grow tomatoes."
"We can have a garden." I stand, pull her up with me. "We can have whatever we want. That's the point."
"The point of what?"
"Of all of this." I look around the facility, at the children healing, the future taking shape. "The point of everything we did. So we could have whatever we want. So you could have whatever you want."
Lily considers this. Her face is serious, thoughtful.
"I want a dog named Biscuit," she says finally. "And a garden with tomatoes. And a room with yellow walls. And both of you, forever."
"Done." Asher ruffles her hair. "Anything else?"
"Can we get ice cream?"
I laugh. The sound surprises me, free and genuine.
"Yeah," I say. "We can get ice cream."
We leave the facility hand in hand. Lily between us, swinging our arms, chattering about flavors and toppings and whether dogs can eat ice cream.
Behind us, the children wave from the windows. Marcus raises a hand in salute. Elliot and Jace stand on the steps, Elliot's head resting on Jace's shoulder.
The farmhouse isn't the same one we left.
Jagger had it renovated while we were in Geneva. New windows, new roof, fresh paint. Something about saying thanks for Asher letting us crash here for so long.
The three of us stand in the driveway, staring at the building. White walls, green shutters, a porch that wraps around two sides. It looks like something from a postcard. Something families live in.
"It's big," Lily says, voice small.
"You'll grow into it." Asher squeezes her shoulder. "Besides, we need room for Biscuit."
"And the garden."
"And the garden."
She breaks away from us, runs up the porch steps, pushes through the front door. We hear her footsteps racing through the house, room to room, taking it all in.
