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I stared at them. “You were all that nervous?”

Every head turned toward me.

Patty laughed. “Sloane, we had a human baby inside a house full of shifters.”

Hudson stood. “You all did well.”

Another round of high-fives followed. The Fletchers joined. Grandpa attempted one, missed, and slapped Trevor on the forehead. Trevor took it like a man.

I laughed until my stomach hurt.

This was the family I loved. Ridiculous. Overwhelming. Capable of surviving disaster, confronting long-standing harm, welcoming bears to dinner, and celebrating the successful concealment of supernatural identities from a human baby.

The gathering drifted outside after dark. Someone started a fire in the stone pit behind the house. Children chased each other between the porch and yard. Patty put on music. Grandpa fell asleep in a chair while holding a mug he insisted contained coffee, though Grandma Ruth had replaced it with warm milk.

Caldwell brought his sketchbook to the far side of the porch. I joined him with markers, pencils, and a blanket. He had begun drawing the cottage. His version included smoke rising from the chimney, three wolves in the yard, and a bear family near the trees.

I drew flowers beneath the front windows.

We worked in comfortable silence.

The back door opened. Hudson stepped onto the porch. He had changed from hosting mode into something more relaxed. His sleeves were pushed to his elbows, and the top button of his shirt had come undone.

My attention lingered.

He noticed.

Caldwell noticed him noticing.

“I’m going to show Trevor,” Caldwell announced. He picked up the sketchbook and left without being asked.

Hudson watched him go. “Can we talk?”

The question caused every pleasant feeling inside me to pause.

“Here?”

“Unless you want to walk.”

The evening had been perfect. Too perfect, apparently. My mind immediately began assembling possible problems. Council decision. Family concern. The new house had made Hudson reconsider our relationship. Maybe I stayed too often. Maybe the toothbrush situation had crossed a boundary.

He sat beside me.

I set down the marker. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“You asked if we could talk.”

He laughed softly. “That doesn’t always mean something is wrong.” Hudson took my hand, his palm warm against mine. “I bought this house because I wanted privacy. I needed a place where I could close the door without remaining connected to Mom’s house.”

I nodded. “You’ve earned that.”

“I like coming home here.”

“Good.”

“I like it more when you’re here.”