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“I love you too.”

Sparrow pressed her hand to Seb’s wet cheek, and he kissed her fingers.

Epilogue

❧

— Glitch —

Sparrow grabbed my cut from the back of a chair and dragged it halfway across the yard before anybody noticed.

She’d smeared watermelon juice down the front of it, so I’d hung it over a chair and gone inside for a cloth. By the time I came back, she had both fists around the collar and was hauling it through the grass, stopping every few steps to find her balance.

Maya saw her first. “Uncle Glitch, Sparrow’s taking your vest.”

“Cut,” Dutch corrected from beside the grill.

Indira looked at him. “She’s four.”

“Old enough to know better.”

Maya put her hands on her hips. “I know what it is. Sparrow doesn’t.”

Sparrow stopped beneath the apple tree, sat down on it and said, “Dada.” The Kettlewell Cold Bay patch on my cut was flat against the grass beneath her left shoe.

Redd was my president. Dutch was still Dutch. I ran tech for the whole club from the finished room in our garage, and if something urgent crossed both chapters when Redd couldn’t be reached, I went to Dutch.

“You getting that?” Redd asked me.

“Eventually.”

“She’s sitting on club property.”

“Go and tell her.”

He looked at his niece, who had started feeding the edge of the leather to Poppy, and stayed where he was.

“Thought so.”

Both chapters had brought their families, and by late afternoon we’d run out of chairs. Colt’s older boys had claimed the strip of grass behind the garage. Graham and Danny were soaked from the paddling pool. One of the older boys had turned on the outside tap, and Rohan, Curtis and Wilder were splashing in the puddle beneath it while Maya went from one group to the next, giving orders.

The house had been ours for seven months. Back at the cottage, I’d wondered where everyone would sleep when they visited. Now they were all here, and I was wondering whether we had enough towels.

Wren stood at the long table beneath the kitchen windows with Austen and Bea, cutting bread and laughing at something I couldn’t hear. Every few minutes she looked up to check on Sparrow. Once she caught my eye and smiled before turning back to Austen and Bea.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. The first line of String’s message told me Portland had thrown an alert. The second said he’d handled it.

I put the phone away.

Once, I’d have been inside before the first plate hit the table, laptop open, telling myself I was still part of the gathering because I could see everybody through the window.

String said he’d handled it.

I believed him.

Dutch watched me put the phone away. He didn’t say anything. He turned the food over, burnt another row of it and let Redd tell him he was doing it wrong.

“I’ve cooked for more people than you have,” Dutch said.