Page 156 of Savage Surrender

I turn it over.

One line.

“Negative,” I say.

“Yeah, I figured.”

I laugh. I briefly picture a second line appearing, and every part of me still recoils from what it would demand now. I’m enjoying it just being us for now.

But I keep looking at the place where that line would be.

Megan’s hand moves once over my back. “You can be relieved and weird about it.”

“I am not weird.”

“A little, but that’s why I love you so much.”

I straighten and wipe beneath my eyes even though I’m not crying. “I want to go tell them before Owen comes through the wall.”

We leave the test on the counter and open the door.

My four are gathered around the kitchen island with Ezra, exactly as promised. Weller has changed into a dark T-shirt. Freddie has a knife in one hand and half a peach beneath the other.

“As expected, it’s negative,” I say, and everyone’s anxiety seems to evaporate.

“For the record,” Tristan says, “remaining casually indifferent about this has been painful.”

Megan pushes between Owen and the counter to steal a peach slice. “He probably had one ear against the bathroom door.”

Freddie laughs. Outside, tires grind slowly over the shell drive.

“That’s Mom and Dad,” Winston calls from the front room.

The kitchen breaks apart around the arrival. Freddie returns to the peaches before Clara scolds him about leaving the knife near the edge. She’s already in mom mode.

Dad gets out first and waves as if he hasn’t seen me in years instead of since last week. Mom is already opening the back door. The trunk rises behind them, revealing three cardboard boxes and enough folded clothes to suggest she ignored every instruction about bringing only what mattered.

Dad’s charges were finally dropped twelve days ago, after Montgomery died and the case against him came apart.

“Honeybee.” Dad meets me halfway across the drive and folds me into a hug. “Tell your mother there was no reason to bring your sixth-grade science fair ribbons.”

Mom closes the back door with more force than necessary. “They’re something to be proud of, Greg. Our daughter is a smart cookie. She always has been.”

Mom reaches us and stops a step away. Then she touches my hair. “You look rested.”

It’s the kind of thing she would have said before.

“I am,” I say, and hug her.

She holds me too tightly and lets go before either of us has to make the moment carry more than it can.

Winston takes the heaviest box from Dad despite Clara telling him not to. He’s refusing to use his crutches and isn’t the steadiest on his feet yet. Owen takes it from Winston without a word. Winston hooks two fingers under one flap; Owen shifts the box out of reach. Dad walks past both of them carrying two boxes stacked to his chin.

“None of you are good patients,” Clara says as she follows.

“I’m an excellent patient,” Tristan tells her, winking at me.

Clara rolls her eyes and gives me a conspiratorial look. “Alphas, am I right?”