Page 31 of Reptile Dysfunction (Harmony Glen #11)
Chapter Twenty-Eight
S loane
The town square glows with fairy lights as evening settles over Harmony Glen’s Revelation Day celebration.
Lanterns sway in the gentle breeze, casting warm light across familiar faces now mingling freely—humans and monsters sharing food, stories, and the unique camaraderie that comes from five years of intentional integration.
From my position near the stage, I take it all in.
Mayor Whitaker (my father, though tonight he’s firmly in his official capacity) tests the microphone while council members arrange themselves importantly in the front row.
Sebastian and Aspen distribute programs, his snakes still sporting their patriotic bowties while she nails the theme in a red, white, and blue sundress.
The Silver Swimmers hold court near the refreshment table, accepting congratulations for their “artistic triumph” while showing off videos on Dorothy’s tablet.
And Thad—my Thad—stands slightly apart, consulting with his team about security protocols.
Even in celebration-appropriate attire (dress pants and a green button-down that makes his snakes’ scales pop), he maintains that enforcer alertness, scanning entrances and exit points with practiced efficiency.
Yet there’s a difference now. His intimidating presence doesn’t make people flinch or hurry past. Instead, business owners nod respectfully, children wave enthusiastically (several mimicking his water ballet poses), and even elderly humans stop to chat.
Sterling, as usual, shamelessly exploits his newfound celebrity.
The iridescent snake wriggles with pride whenever someone compliments the water ballet, positioning himself front and center for optimal admiration.
The other snakes maintain slightly more dignity, though several can’t resist showing off when young fans approach.
“Quite a change from last year’s celebration,” my mother observes, walking to me slowly, and oh-so-proudly, in her walker.
Her recovery has progressed enough that she’s ditched the wheelchair, determined to attend the full event.
“Remember how stiff everything was in years past? All those carefully scripted interactions and awkward photo opportunities?”
“Dad’s idea of controlled integration,” I agree, watching as he adjusts his tie for the twentieth time, ever the perfectionist. “This is better.”
“Much.” Her eyes follow my gaze to where Thad now stands, listening intently to something Mabel is telling him. “He’s good for you, you know. Brings out that rebellious streak I always hoped you’d develop.”
“Mom!”
“What? I married a politician. Doesn’t mean I wanted a polished, podium-ready daughter.” She adjusts her shawl with a mischievous smile. “Besides, I’ve always had a soft spot for anyone who could make Charles rethink his positions. Your Gorgon’s managed that more effectively than most.”
Before I can respond, the microphone squeals as Dad taps it. The crowd quiets, gathering closer to the stage where banners proclaim “Harmony Glen: Five Years United” in flowing script.
“Friends, neighbors, and honored guests,” he begins, his campaign voice in full effect. “Five years ago today, our community faced an unprecedented revelation—that monsters had been living among us all along.”
As he continues with the official narrative of integration challenges and triumphs, I catch Thad’s eye across the crowd. His snakes immediately perk up. Thad’s subtle wink makes my heart flutter embarrassingly. He really shouldn’t have such a hold on me. Well… who am I kidding? I love it.
“This year’s celebration is particularly special,” Dad continues, “as we recognize not just peaceful coexistence, but true integration. Monsters and humans working together, building businesses together, creating community together.”
The crowd murmurs approval, and I notice several monster business owners nodding appreciatively.
“Today, we announce a new chapter in that integration story. Following recent challenges—” a diplomatic reference to the Harrington Development scandal that still has the town buzzing “—we’ve seen extraordinary leadership emerge from within our monster community.”
My attention snaps into place. This wasn’t in the prepared remarks I’d reviewed.
“Thaddeus Fangborn, would you join me on stage?”
Thad’s snakes all freeze in surprise, then rise alertly as he makes his way through the parting crowd.
He moves with that natural grace that first caught my attention at the pool, powerful yet controlled.
Several snakes attempt to straighten themselves, clearly not expecting this public acknowledgment.
“Many of you know Thaddeus from the YMCA, where he teaches our children to swim,” Dad continues as Thad takes his place on stage. “Some of you may remember his rather… impressive performance this afternoon.”
Scattered laughter and applause follow, with the Silver Swimmers cheering enthusiastically from their positions near the punch bowl. Thad’s snakes droop slightly in embarrassment, though Sterling maintains his proud posture.
“But before the Revelation, Thaddeus served a different role in our community—one we’ve only recently come to fully appreciate.” Dad turns toward him with surprising sincerity. “He was an enforcer, tasked with protecting both monsters and humans by maintaining necessary boundaries.”
The crowd stills, many clearly surprised by this direct acknowledgment of pre-Revelation roles.
“When monsters revealed themselves, many enforcers struggled to find their place in the new order,” Dad continues.
“But Thaddeus found a way to transform protective instincts into community service—first through teaching, and now through Guardian Solutions, which the council has unanimously voted to name Harmony Glen’s official security partner for all future town events. ”
Applause erupts, genuine and enthusiastic.
From my position near the stage, I see Thad’s expression shift from surprise to something deeper—pride mixed with a kind of peace I’ve rarely seen on his face.
His snakes all rise tall, poised, and dignified (except Sterling, who executes what can only be described as a victory dance).
“This official partnership,” Dad announces over the continuing applause, “represents everything the Revelation celebration stands for—not erasing our differences or pretending the past never happened, but building something new that honors both our separate histories and our shared future.”
More applause follows as Dad presents Thad with an official certificate. When Thad steps to the microphone, his snakes arrange themselves in what I recognize as their most formal configuration.
“Thank you,” he says simply, his deep voice carrying easily across the square. “Five years ago, I thought my purpose had ended with the Revelation. I was wrong. It had only evolved.”
His eyes find mine in the crowd, and my heart does that ridiculous flutter again.
“Guardian Solutions exists because this community was ready for protection without fear, security without shadows.” He pauses, allowing his gaze to sweep the gathered faces. “And because one person was brave enough to tell the real story.”
The warmth that floods through me has nothing to do with the summer evening. Several people turn to look at me, connecting the dots between the mayor’s journalist daughter and the Guardian Solutions origin story.
As Thad concludes his brief remarks and steps down to continued applause, I feel my mother’s knowing gaze.
“He’s going to ask you tonight,” she says with absolute certainty.
“Ask me what?”
“Don’t play dumb, dear. It doesn’t suit you.” She adjusts her shawl with a smile. “The question is, what will you say?”
Before I can respond, Thad reaches us, his snakes already extending toward me eagerly.
“Congratulations,” I say, trying to sound composed despite Sterling’s shameless affection. “Official town security partner is quite the achievement.”
“I had help,” he says, his eyes conveying much more than his words. “A good journalist source.”
After exchanging pleasantries with my mother (who then mysteriously discovers she needs to speak to someone on the other side of the square), Thad guides me toward a quieter corner of the celebration.
As we walk, I notice his snakes are more restless than usual—several keep rising and settling repeatedly, while Sterling seems to be practicing some sort of choreographed movement.
Even for snakes accustomed to showing off, their behavior feels… rehearsed.
“There’s something I need to show you,” he says, keeping his gaze away from mine. “Away from the crowd.”
“Mysterious,” I tease, but my pulse quickens. “Lead the way, Official Security Partner.”
He guides me across the square to where the celebration meets the park, fairy lights giving way to the natural glow of fireflies among the trees. The sounds of the gathering fade slightly, creating a pocket of relative quiet while still keeping the festivities in view.
“I had a whole speech planned,” he says, his snakes now arranging themselves in what appears to be a practiced formation.
“About evolution and protection and finding purpose. But after everything today—the water ballet, the official announcement, seeing how far we’ve come—it feels like overthinking it. ”
“Overthinking what?” But my heart already knows.
In answer, Sterling extends toward me, something small and glittering held carefully in his mouth. The iridescent snake deposits it gently in my palm—a ring, the center stone surrounded by smaller ones that catch the fairy lights in a pattern unmistakably similar to Sterling’s scales.
“Well,” I manage, staring at the ring as Sterling preens smugly, “I have to admit—that’s the most useful thing he’s ever done.”
Sterling immediately rears back in mock offense, while Thad’s laugh comes out shaky with nerves.“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Thad says, his voice lacking its usual command. “He’s been practicing that move for a week.”
Thad draws a slow breath before continuing, his amber eyes catching in the fairy light.
“I used to think my purpose was protecting people from the shadows. But you taught me that real protection means stepping into the light together. You make me want to be brave enough to love you openly, with nothing held back.”
His voice drops to that intimate register that makes my knees weak. “Sloane, you saw someone worth loving when I couldn’t even see someone worth saving.”
The other snakes create a swaying pattern above him, a more graceful version of their water ballet choreography, forming a heart.
“From the moment you walked into my pool, something changed,” he continues, taking my free hand. “You saw all of me—the enforcer, the swimming teacher, even the reluctant water ballet star—and somehow made me believe that all of it together was someone worth choosing.”
Tears blur my vision, making the fairy lights and his snakes melt into a dazzling haze. “It was,” I manage. “Is. Always.”
“Sloane Whitaker,” he says, his honey-gold eyes holding mine, “will you marry me? Snakes and all?”
Sterling somehow produces the most pleading expression a snake can manage, while the others create increasingly elaborate heart patterns above Thad’s head, clearly having practiced this moment.
“Yes,” I say without hesitation, feeling the meaning down to my bones. “Every wonderful part of you. Especially the snakes.”
His kiss is gentle despite the power I know he contains, his hands cradling my face like I’m something precious. His snakes celebrate with unmistakable joy.
When we finally break apart, the ring glitters on my finger, catching light like Sterling’s scales.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper. “How did you manage this considering everything else you were doing?”
“I had help.” He nods toward the celebration, where Sebastian and Aspen stand at the edge of the trees, attempting (and failing) to look uninvolved. Behind them, the Silver Swimmers aren’t even pretending not to watch, their expressions radiating triumphant satisfaction.
“Of course you did,” I laugh, not even surprised. “The whole town was probably in on it.”
“Just the ones who matter.” His smile transforms his intimidating features into something that makes my heart skip. “Though your father may have had some advance notice, given the timing of his announcement.”
“Political opportunism at its finest,” I agree. “Making sure the town security partner is officially part of the family.”
“Smart man.” His snakes all nod in agreement, still executing their celebration patterns.
As we walk back toward the festivities, hand in hand with the engagement ring catching fairy lights with each movement, I realize we’re walking toward more than just the celebration.
We’re walking toward a future neither of us could have imagined five years ago. A future where evolution means becoming more fully yourself, not less.
As the celebration wraps around us—Sebastian’s congratulatory hug, Aspen’s delighted squeal, Milo racing around shouting, “She said yes, she said yes!”; the Silver Swimmers enthusiastically planning a “wedding water ballet” (which Thad vetoes immediately, though to no avail); my father’s knowing nod; and my mother’s triumphant smile—I feel an overwhelming certainty:
Sometimes, the best stories are the ones we write together.
Even when they include glowing LED bowties and entirely too many limelight-loving snakes.