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He looked up from where he’d started pacing small circles in the grass. “What?”

“I’m going to be fine.”

“I know, I just want to make sure we’re prepared.”

“Roy, I’m not made of glass. I’ve known these people for years, with or without six of those years missing.” She smiled at him. Sometimes being her childhood best friend meant also being her overly protective brother, single-minded in his determination.

Roy ran a hand along his jaw, shrewd hazel eyes searching her face.

“Shit. You’re right. Okay. When Bishop went all ‘control your in-laws’ on me, I ran with it.”

“Are you Alannah’s keeper, Roy?”

“What? No—”

“Then maybe stop acting like Aster is mine.”

Roy recoiled at that, a physical response to the well-aimed arrow in her words. Somewhere, Elliot Reyes was taking a shot in solidarity.

“Fuck,” Roy breathed. “I’m a jackass, aren’t I?”

Molly smiled and took his arm. “Yeah, but you’re my favorite jackass,” she said, leading Roy to the house.

“I think that went better than expected,” Molly mused as she and Roy approached the gardens sometime later.

“Are you serious? When Mrs. Clay asked why you weren’t wearing your ring, I had to kick my own brother-in-law to stop his sniggering.”

“It was pretty effective too.”

“She had no right to ask about that.” Roy said

“Do you see any cracks? Any shatters?” Molly asked him, only half joking.

Roy gave her a pained look. “It’s just,” he began with a concerning level of caution, “some of us who are much closer to you may have been waiting for the right time—not that there really is one—to bring that up. Because we care, of course. Not out of morbid curiosity.” A pause. Then much more rushed: “And Alannah wanted to know too.”

“Roy Waters,” Molly said. “Are you put out that Mrs. Clay had the nerve to ask me before you did?”

“I—yes.” He deflated. “Yes, I am.”

Molly had started twisting at the fourth finger on her left hand, massaging the space between joints where a ring might sit. Where one once did, as evidenced by a band of untanned skin.

“They must have taken it off me at the hospital, so by the time I was discharged, it didn’t even occur to me to ask about it. Which is horribly oblivious on my behalf,” Molly admitted as they wound their way through the herb garden. “And, well—it’s been too long now, hasn’t it? I can’t exactly ask to see it without the reminder of all the time I didn’t ask about it.”

“You haven’t talked about it at all? It’s not that you just aren’t wearing it?”

“Correct. I’ve made things really awkward for myself.”

“Oof,” was Roy’s helpful response.

“Eloquent, Roy. Thank you for the support.”

Molly lightly shoved him with her shoulder as they approached an impromptu baseball field set up in the grass. She froze, heart stammering at the sight in front of her. “Roy?” she asked. “What am I looking at?”

Alannah sat on a blanket near the center of the field, reading to one of her many nieces. That was the normal part, almost picturesque. She smiled brightly at the child in front of her, emoting some fantastical element from the picture book in her hands.

But beyond her, Aster sat in the grass, legs out in front of him, shirtsleeves rolled up, collar parted to reveal a flash of pale skin, and leaning back on his arms as Jessa crawled all over him with her tiny baseball bat. He gave her an enormous grin, said something, and then suddenly leaned forward, picking her up around the middle and encouraging her into a batter’s stance. Thomas sat in the grass nearby, attention glued to Aster.

Something in Molly’s chest swelled, warmth pulsing through her veins.