“I think I'm okay.”
“You are?”
She nods.
“I've been thinking.”
Rafe waits.
“My whole life, I’ve felt out of place.”
She glances at me.
“Like I've been looking for somewhere I fit.”
Her voice grows quieter.
“I always felt a little...”
She shrugs.
“...different.Too much.Too loud.Too scattered.Toome.”
She laughs softly.
Charley reaches across the coffee table and takes her hand.
“Oh, sweetheart, you've just described half the Pack.”
Daria laughs.
“Really?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
She points toward the hallway.
“My husband forgets where he leaves his truck keys at least twice a week.”
“I do not.”
“You found them in the refrigerator last Tuesday.”
“That happened once.”
The room erupts with laughter.
Daria laughs harder than anyone.
The sound makes something inside me settle.
She belongs.
Gods, Sweet Mother Moon, thank you.
Because she does.
Daria belongs here with me.
