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His hand came to my hair, fingers working through the blond strands, my head tipping toward his palm.

"There's my baby," he murmured, and I made a sound that was mostly contentment and partly purr.

Sawyer got something different. Daddy's hand settled on the back of his neck — a firm, solid grip that wasn't quite possessive and wasn't quite comforting. That hand on the back of his neck did something to Sawyer that nothing else quite could. It grounded him, reminded him he was held, and I watched the last tension leave his body in real time.

Mikey got held. Daddy gathered him up like he weighed nothing and tucked him against his chest, one big arm around Mikey's shoulders, the other hand cradling the back of his head. Mikey's face pressed into Daddy's shirt, and I could hear his breathing. I watched them from my nest of green fabric and felt really happy and calm.

Chapter 22. JJ

And then I remembered the pumpkins.

The pumpkins were downstairs. Four of them, lined up against the wall like they were waiting for us — tiny for Mikey, medium for me, big for Sawyer, enormous for Daddy. Mikey had picked them all out at the Butterfly Garden, and Daddy had hauled most of them home.

"We should carve the pumpkins," I said. "Please, Daddy, can we carve them?"

Sawyer groaned. Mikey lifted his head from Daddy's chest, his green eyes sharpening with immediate interest. Daddy laughed.

"Now?" Sawyer said, sounding exactly like a man who had been comfortable for approximately thirty seconds ago and was now being asked to move.

"Right now," I said, already trying to throw my blanket off and scramble to my feet. My legs were still a little shaky, which I chose to ignore completely. "It's the perfect time. We're all here, we're all..." I gestured vaguely at the three of us, in various states of undress and blanket-wrapped dishevelment. "...you know. Cozy. But we could be cozy and creative."

Daddy caught the edge of my blanket before I could fully escape.

"Absolutely not yet."

I stopped. "What?"

"Water first. Clothes second. Pumpkin carving third."

"But—"

"JJ."

"Fine."

He made all three of us drink a glass of water before he let us leave the room. Then we got dressed properly. I put my blue pajama shorts and white T-shirt back on and added a hoodie because Daddy reminded me we would eventually be going outside. Mikey changed back into his baby onesie. Sawyer pulled on sweatpants and a T-shirt. Daddy, naturally, looked as put together as if none of the previous hour had happened at all.

Then we migrated to the kitchen.

The kitchen was warm. Daddy put on some low lo-fi music that filled the space while the four pumpkins came out. Mine, Mikey's, and Sawyer's went on the kitchen table. Daddy's enormous one stayed on the counter because there wasn't enough room for all four without someone eventually knocking one onto the floor, and Daddy correctly identified me as the most likely culprit.

I picked up the medium pumpkin — my pumpkin — and turned it in my hands.

"Mine is going to be the most creative. I'm thinking something avant-garde. Maybe asymmetrical. Very modern."

Mikey had already found a marker and was examining his tiny pumpkin with the precision of a surgeon.

"Mine will be the cutest," he said.

Sawyer said nothing. He picked up another marker and stared at his big pumpkin.

"All right," Daddy said. "Here's how this is going to work."

He opened a drawer and pulled out one of the real kitchen knives, holding it up where all three of us could see it.

"The lids and the guts are my job."

I opened my mouth — because of course I did — and Daddy's eyes found mine before I could get a single word out.