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It’s so full and so perfect. Theo comes on a shout and his knot grows fuller. The stretch is everywhere, and white pulls at my vision as I come again.

Ezra whispers words of encouragement and praise. Theo flips us again, settling me on his lap, against his chest, his knot locked in place. He tucks Ezra under his arm, and our beta curls around the two of us.

My body is spent and deeply satisfied. For a long moment, the three of us cuddle. Hands stroke lazily, the coolness of Ezra’s touch glorious in contrast to Theo’s warmth. My purr and Theo’s fill the space. Then Ezra laughs softly.

“What?” I ask.

“I stayed.”

I kiss him.

No one moves for a while. When Theo’s knot eases, he brings warm cloths and water. Ezra helps clean me, his fingers solid and gentle.

The song has long since ended, and rain has taken over the music.

Ezra reaches for the blanket draped over the back of the couch and wraps it around my shoulders. Theo kisses my temple. His hands have gentled, one on my stomach and one resting over my hip.

“Water,” he says.

I laugh weakly. “Of course.”

Ezra retrieves the bottle and hands it to me with a flourish. “Hydration from your fading co-investigator.”

I drink because they both watch me.

Theo’s eyes soften. “Food next.”

“You have a very specific aftercare agenda.”

“Yes.”

“Daddy energy always comes with a meal plan.” Ezra presses a hand over his mouth.

Theo’s ears turn red.

My laugh feels like sunlight in my chest.

Later, we take dessert to the dock because Ezra needs the water and I need the air. Theo carries blankets and the tin of flower cookies. I carry tea. Ezra carries himself, which he announces as a major contribution.

The dock is damp beneath our blanket, and the channel moves black and silver under the rain. Cameras watch the gate and the east road. The cloth sample is sealed away. The old route still waits with its unanswered questions.

Theo sits behind me with his legs bracketing mine. Ezra leans against my side, clearer near the water. I eat a cookie shaped like a daisy and let the sweetness melt on my tongue. I rest my head against Theo’s chest and slide my fingers through Ezra’s.

Danger hasn’t left us, but it’s good to remember that neither has joy.

Chapter 17

Theo Heron

Pepper comes downstairs dressed for the swamp as though she expects it to flirt back.

Her cutoff overalls show strong pale thighs, and the bib is fastened over a butter-yellow tank printed with tiny frogs wearing crowns. A green scarf holds most of her curls away from her face. Thick cream socks sit above waterproof hiking boots, and her canvas field bag is covered in enamel pins. One says Ask Me About Wetlands. Another says Science Is a Love Language.

Ezra leans against the kitchen doorway and looks her over. “You’re adorable enough to lure a gator out of the swamp.”

Pepper checks the frog shirt. “These are warning colors.”

“They’re pastel.”