A few minutes later, I came back out with my apologetic purchase—this time a pack of gum—and got back in for the last short bit of the ride.
“Do we get to see everybody this time?” Connor asked.
“Everybody,” I assured him.
Connor was referring to all the kiddos from his generation—the ones from the lab. And there were a lot. Far too many, and yet I was glad for him and Lily to have connections with others who had a similar background.
I hated that that background existed—but growing up, wolf pups usually had other wolf pups. Cougar cubs had other cougar cubs. My kids? They weren’t like any other shifters out there. Neither were the adults.
They had all been test subjects like Rigg—or the results of tests—and they were their own unique kind of being. This gave them a place to connect. To belong.
“We’ll be there soon.”
We parked at Doc’s place since he had the office there and lots of extra parking. But we pretty much took up the whole riverbank, not just his property.
The second the kids were unbuckled and out of the van, they took off, finding friends, giggling and laughing—except for Arthur. He was toddling, but not well, and stole his ride on Rigg’s hip.
Grandpa Joel called over to Doc, who sent one of his grandkids over to help with the potato salad. Doc and Grandpa Joel had become pretty good friends, and I loved that for them. I loved that a lot.
“This is pretty spectacular,” I said as Rigg set Arthur down on the grass.
Arthur immediately went to his favorite activity: finding ants. He thought they were little robots, and there was no dissuading him.
We spent the afternoon reconnecting. Meeting old friends. Meeting new ones. Just being together— being part of something—part of a pack, something bigger than ourselves.
We listened to stories about the time in the lab—modified, of course, to be less horrifying for the children. But it was important to keep the history alive, to make sure a future like that never happened again.
And then, as the sun dipped low and the fireflies came out, we made s’mores together. Filled our faces with marshmallow stickiness and chocolatey fingers. It was the best.
I savored the last few minutes before we had to load the kids back in the van and turn around for home.
“What a wonderful day,” I whispered.
Rigg rested his hand on my belly, his chest against my back as he supported me where I sat.
“It really was,” I said. “I can’t think of anyone better to share this day—this life—with than you.”
He kissed my cheek. “And I can’t think of anyone better to share mine with.”
All that we’d accomplished in our lives—some for others, like helping dismantle the lab, and some for ourselves, like loving this family and each other—was only the beginning. I didn’t know what the future held. But I knew we would be safe and happy. Together.
* * *
