Page 32 of The Dragon’s Accidental Manny

Though I’d accepted the kids were dragon shifters and Price could shift into dragon form, understanding when they needed their bracelets took some getting used to. I preferred that they didn’t wear them when we were together, and now I was able to recognize the triggers, such as them being overtired, agitated, or excited. That was when I had them wear the bracelets.

“No.” Price wrapped his arms around me. “Even kids Jack’s age can’t produce a lot of fire.”

Bea whipped out her tablet and dictated, “Subject fails to understand a baby’s fire output. More reading recommended.” Bea was deep into her project, and I gritted my teeth at being labeled “the subject.”

I rubbed my brow, thinking me, my bump, and my human reactions would soon be a headline crawling across a ticker at the bottom of a TV screen.

“This is the color we chose.”

Everyone had an opinion about paint color, but we compromised with a muted green. We’d decided that this was the color of the ancient forests where the dragon shifter had once lived. Bea was typing again, and I dared not look at her screen.

Price and Jack were wrestling with the crib as they put it together. Our son’s involvement extended the process, but my heart somersaulted when our youngest grinned as Price told him, “Good job.”

“That wall needs something.” Isla was pointing at the blank space opposite the love seat and rocking chair.

“What do you suggest, sweetheart?”

She wanted to paint a mural of two dragons and a human. I caught Price’s eye, as I assumed she was talking about her siblings and me and wondered why he wasn’t included.

“So the baby knows all the dads. So the dad that’s here.” She pointed at Price. “And Dad Two.” That was me. She called me Dad to my face, but when talking about me, she added the numeral after my name. “And also Papa.”

I gulped and sent my mate another glance. This family wouldn’t exist without Allan, so including him tugged at my emotions. My eyes filled with tears.

“I love that.”

“I have to do Papa’s beast. Cam showed me how to make the spikes look real ages ago, but I can’t get Papa’s right even after looking at the photos.”

Price crouched beside her. “You draw them how Cam taught you, and I’ll tell you how they curved. I knew your papa’s dragon better than anyone.” He wrapped his arms around her. “We’ll get him right together.”

“Okay, Dad.”

“Human and dragon emotions are causing a lot of tears.” Bea was still dictating, and I was considering putting the tablet in a timeout with Jack’s wings.

Two weeks later, Isla let us see the mural.

She’d spent the whole full-moon school break barricaded in the nursery. Price was sworn to secrecy after he’d helped her sketch Allan’s beast. She led us blindfolded, in a conga line with our hands on the waist of the person in front.

“Okay, look.”

Beside the crib, the wall had become the sky. Two dragons flew across it. There was Price’s beast with his gray scales shot with pink, the one that flew over our house during the night. The second one was smaller but looked very much like Price’s beast, half-hidden by a cloud. That was Allan’s. And in the corner, with a hand raised as if I was waving them home, was me.

Bea had gone quiet. She’s been narrating the reveal. “Subject removes blindfold. Subject reacts.” But she’d stopped. She reached up to the smaller dragon. “That’s him. The spikes and everything.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I was starting to not be able to see him. But here he is.”

Isla, who’d tried to get the spikes right so many times, leaned against her sister. “I know.”

The spikes tapered just the way I’d shown her, but their shape, that particular hook they had, that was Price and Isla’s work. And that was Allan.

I looked at Price. He was looking at the girls looking at his brother, and he smiled. We were all quiet until Jack announced the baby could see the dragons even upside down in the crib.

Later I found Bea’s tablet on the love seat with the notes still open. The last line said, Subject. She hadn’t finished it.

Days after the mural reveal, the paint in the nursery had dried. The kids were in their rooms, but it was still light outside. Price disappeared into the garage and returned with something behind his back.

“I made this.” He held it up. “And it’s not teardrops.”

It was a circle of tapered glass flames and each one was a different color.

“That’s Bea.” He touched the green one. “Isla’s is navy, and Jack’s the yellow.” He pointed to the deep red one. “That’s mine.” The soft orange I guessed was Allan’s, but there was also a rich caramel one.