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His mouth shifts beneath his beard.

I curl my arms around his neck. “Actually, this is better.”

Ezra follows us inside carrying my notebook, field bag, and Darwin, my little cooler. He has performed bravely in swamp conditions and deserves an award or at least a wipe-down.

Ezra is solid after the canoe trip, sunlight catching the brown of his hair and the pale skin of his arms. Every clear edge of him still sends relief through me. He sets the evidence bag beside the sink while Theo carries me toward the sofa.

My phone buzzes in my field bag. Honey’s message says they’re at the cemetery gate. A moment later, a knock rattles the front door.

Junie calls from the porch, “We brought enough food to survive a siege.”

Honey adds, “And your mother sent a box with written instructions.”

Scarlet’s voice follows. “The gate was open.”

Theo turns his head toward Ezra.

“I opened it,” Ezra says. “Pepper said they were coming, and making them climb a cemetery fence felt like a bad first impression.”

“Excellent instincts,” I tell him.

Theo sets me down in the hall. I reach the door before he does because my friends are outside and I am post-heat, post-swamp, and apparently one emotional breeze away from dissolving.

Honey stands closest, holding a taped shipping box against her chest. Scarlet has two insulated bags and a vase crowded with yellow flowers. Junie balances a bakery box, a grocery bag, and a potted basil plant that looks as if it barely survived the drive.

For one breath, I stare at them. Then Honey says my name, and I fall into her.

The box lands safely because Scarlet catches it. Honey wraps both arms around me, and the first sob escapes before I can laugh at myself for crying.

“You smell like you again,” Honey whispers.

“I missed you.”

“You saw me less than a week ago.”

“I was hormonally elsewhere.”

Junie abandons the basil on the porch and attaches herself to my side. Scarlet sets down the flowers and the box, then folds around us from behind. The four of us sway in a tangled knot of arms, curls, tears, omega perfume, and relieved laughter.

For several whole breaths, I’m just Pepper. I don’t try to analyze or process the newness of a late-blooming omega who perfumed in front of the whole town and found refuge in a haunted cemetery with a bonded pair. I allow myself to be held by friends who loved me before I had answers or perfume.

Theo stands in the doorway holding the grocery bags Junie forgot she was carrying. Ezra remains farther inside, giving us room.

Honey presses her cheek to mine. “We were worried.”

“I’m okay.”

Scarlet’s arm tightens around my shoulders. “You can be okay and still let us worry.”

That makes me cry harder.

Junie sniffs loudly. “I wore waterproof mascara because I planned ahead.”

“You should have planned far enough ahead to skip it,” Honey says.

The laugh breaks through the tears.

We stay in the hug until my knees wobble. Theo steps forward, but Honey and Junie steer me toward the couch before he can carry me again. Scarlet brings in the box. Theo gathers everything else from the porch, including the basil, with the grave focus of a man handling emergency supplies.