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Powell had never been great at big dramatic scenes. Arguing with her father and brothers to get a ride over here was about the extent of it. Now, she needed to regroup. She walked with Bonnie into the Colesons’ house. It was the same general floorplan as her own place but about five thousand or so square feet smaller. The Colesons’ house was one of the smaller in the division. But the instant she walked in, it felt welcoming. Like a home.

She wanted that same warm atmosphere for her own place. She was just going to have to work at it. Before the baby was born.

Powell wanted to massively nest. As soon as she possibly could.

“So, what exactly are the guys doing out there?” Powell asked as she followed Bonnie into the music room. There was the old piano Hope had told her and some of her friends about before. Guitars lined one wall. Older ones, well-loved. And probably well-used. There was even a banjo in one corner. And violins. An electric keyboard occupied another space, with an older computer next to it. There was a drum set that looked older than Powell.

There were several older couches and chairs around the room, but they were clean and covered with knit blankets and throws. A big basket of colored yarn sat by one chair, a half finished project waiting. There was a shelf in one corner filled with children’s board games and books and puzzles. It just felt so welcoming, with the faint scent of apple and cinnamon in the air, that Powell started to relax a little. People could be comfortable here.

There were playpens in the room, as well. With two beautiful baby girls sound asleep, so infinitely precious. As she watched, the older girl, the toddler she thought belonged to Commander Rodriguez, stirred. The baby sat up, looked around, and called for her daddy. And then her mama. Hope stood.

Samia scooped the toddler up. “Hi, baby. Daddy is outside, and Mama Hope can’t lift you. Hope, sit down now, or I’ll borrow Miguel’s cuffs myself. I have her.”

The baby girl babbled something in response. Followed by mama-mama-mama. She was precious and sweet and made Powell’s eyes well up. Her own baby would call her mama someday. Powell couldn’t wait.

“Her… mama ?” Haldyn asked pointedly. “That’s Miguel’s daughter, right? Did I miss the wedding? I mean, I didn’t miss the handcuffs part of things, but the wedding? When did that happen? And I think you are supposed to save the cuffs for the honeymoon, Hope. Or so I have recently been promised.”

“She’s a bit confused right now. She definitely thinks Hope is her mama,” Samia said seriously. “We haven’t been able to convince Emilia otherwise just yet. We’re just going with it for now. Miguel seems to be in no hurry, strangely enough, to convince Emilia that Hope isn’t her mama.”

“That dude is really weird or something. Like really weird. I kept her with me after Miguel was shot and before I was. I took care of her by myself for a few days then. I think she just got attached to me. She hears the older kids saying mama to Joy, Marcia, and Heather and she wants a mama too, I think,” Hope said from the couch. “I see we’re having peoples? Hey, Hal. How are you feeling?”

“Better. You?”

“Feelin’ the healin’. Mostly. So what’s going on now? We having a Heather’s home party already? Doesn’t she get cake like I did?”

“I’ll bake one tonight,” Summer said. “Sit, Hope. Sit.”

“I’m sitting. Sheesh.”

“Gunnar and Daniel were here before we were,” Powell said, taking the chair Bonnie ushered her to, as a little four-pack of dark-haired preschool girls, including Frankie, ran into the room in pursuit of each other. “They said they had questions about the DNA they found on Heather’s clothes. I wasn’t going to let them question her without me here. I was there too. I’m not going to let Heather deal with them alone.”

Someone came in the room after the four little girls. It was Cara. She took one look at Powell and started crying a little. “You are okay? For real?”

Powell hugged Cara quickly and from the side, then stepped back. Cara didn’t really like it when people got in her space that much. “I am okay. I promise.”

“Sit, Powell, you and Haldyn both. Cara Joelle, go help your sisters in the kitchen with drinks for the people who somehow got put to work cleaning out our garage. But why does our garage suddenly need cleaned out in the first place, I ask? Can someone explain? What are you girls up to this time?” Bonnie asked, sending her daughters a significant look.

“It’s a surprise for Aunt Heather, Mom,” Crispin said, eyeing Zoey warily. Then she took off toward the rear of their house.

“I’m not sure what Cashlyn was making them do. I stayed inside. I didn’t want to see Commander Butthead McKellen again,” Cara said. “He’s a real butthead.”

“Please don’t call our guests buttheads, it’s not how I raised you. Especially since Cashlyn seems to be orchestrating them cleaning out our garage. Which it does seem to be going very efficiently, but are these gentlemen actually willing to clean out our garage and everything? Or did Cashlyn just… Cashlyn them? We have talked about this…” Bonnie asked, watching from the window for a moment.

“Efficiency is key in a family this big. Cashie is just being efficient and everything,” Hope said. “Did any of them take their shirts off? The men in Finley Creek are very pretty. Well, Rafe can leave his on, considering, but the others…? Sorry, Zo, Murdoch is very drool-worthy. We’d have at least looked.”

“No harm. I find him very drool-worthy myself.”

“I was watching them all from the window. They didn’t,” Cara said. “And buttheads can’t be very pretty, Hope. They just can’t. It’s against the rules of buttheading. Why is Commander Butthead even here, anyway?”

“Cara!” Her mom said when a preschooler who greatly resembled Hope said butthead next, before running out of the room, yelling Commander Butthead at the top of her lungs. The remaining three little girls took off after her, yelling about Commander Butthead! Commander Butthead! as they went.

Powell had to laugh. She just had to. Those girls looked like the rest of the Colesons—and were just too cute to ignore.

“Cara! Look what you’ve done,” Bonnie chided after the rest of the laughter stopped.

“Sorry, mom. I’m a Coleson. I just don’t know how to behave.” Cara shrugged, completely unrepentant. “Neither do they.”

“That you all don’t, but they are three years old. You are twenty-three. I expect better from you,” Bonnie said as her daughter just blinked at her, then grinned. Bonnie turned to the rest of them. “I’m sorry. But, well, Coleson children just really don’t know how to behave. At any age, apparently.”

“We mostly all just run feral,” Cara said.

Then she was gone, headed out after the little girls. And Powell was left with Cara’s mother. Who had a way of looking at a person that was just as powerful as her daughter’s. “Is Heather really all right? They just sort of rushed me out of there with the guards, and I didn’t get a chance to talk to her.”

“She’ll be down in a minute, and you can talk to her. I can stall the gentlemen outside,” Bonnie said.

“I’ll do that, Bonnie,” Zoey said quietly as Samia carried Commander Rodriguez’s baby out of the room to change her. “Let me.”

Then, it was just Powell, Bonnie, Haldyn, and Hope.

As they waited.

Finally, Heather came in, followed by her twin sister and Eden.

“Powell? What are you doing here?” Heather asked.

Powell took one look at the other woman and the damage done to her and lost it. The tears started coming and just wouldn’t stop.

“No, none of that. Just none of that. Or we’ll all start crying, too,” Heather said. Her free arm went around Powell’s shoulders. “We are companion criers in this house. All of us. Total waterworks.” But her face was wet.

And they cried together.

They’d gotten away. That was finally starting to sink in.