41. Lucy #2
Zee saw us first from the dock and narrowed his eyes.
Marco followed his gaze and grinned so broadly I considered putting the truck in reverse myself.
Bea lowered her sunglasses. Lo’s fork paused midair.
Ezra looked at Ty, looked at me, then looked at Dottie in the back seat like the dog might confirm his suspicions under oath.
Dottie chose that moment to bark with the full authority of someone who had arrived at her own party.
Ty cut the engine.
I stared through the windshield. “We could still say you kidnapped me.”
“With your dog?”
“She is an unreliable witness.”
“She loves me.”
“She loves cheese and whipped cream.”
He reached across the console, palm up. He did not grab. He just waited. I looked at his hand. Then I put mine in it. The pressure of his fingers closing around mine was steady enough to make my whole body settle.
“Ready?” he asked.
No, some old, frightened part of me whispered. Yes, the rest of me answered.
I opened the door. Dottie launched herself out of the back seat like a tiny, low-to-the-ground missile, immediately tangling her leash around Ty’s shin and nearly ending his career in the gravel. “Dottie,” I snapped.
She ignored me, thrilled by nature, freedom, and the smell of grilled meat.
“Great entrance,” Ty snickered, hopping once to free his leg.
“I trained her myself.”
“Clearly.”
We made it five steps before Zee abandoned the dock and started across the lawn with the energy of a man who had been waiting several fiscal quarters for this exact moment. “Interesting,” he called.
I lifted my coffee cup. “Use more words.”
“You two arrive together now?”
“We both own calendars,” I offered.
Marco appeared beside him, one hand pressed dramatically to his chest. “And secrets.”
Behind them, Bea was still staring at me. Not in shock. Her expression had gone soft around the edges, her hand still resting on her belly, her mouth parted like she had seen something she knew was coming and still was not prepared for how it felt when it arrived.
Bea had watched me fold myself into professionalism for months. She had watched me survive being in the same building as Ty. She had watched me choose carefully and hurt quietly and pretend that competence could cover every bruise.
Now she was looking at me like I had stepped into sunlight.
Ty’s shoulder brushed mine.
Alois’s eyes moved from my face to Ty’s hand, which had settled at the small of my back so naturally neither of us had noticed. One of his eyebrows rose.
“Alois,” Ty said.
“Burns.”
“Good party.”
“Do not let it affect your game.”
Ty blinked. Then he grinned. “It’s August.”
Alois took a sip of water. “Do not let it affect your offseason training.”
Bea covered her mouth, but I saw the smile.
Lo made a small sound that might have been a laugh and might have been emotional distress. “Ezra.”
“I’m doing nothing,” Ezra said.
“You are smiling like you won money.”
“I might have.”
I turned sharply. “Dad.”
Ezra held up both hands, but his grin did not move. “I did not bet. I am merely enjoying the fruits of patience.”
“You have never been patient in your life,” Lo said. “You meddled.”
“I parented.”
Ty leaned closer to me. “Should we be concerned that your father is proud of himself?”
“Yes,” I said. “Always.”
That was when Dottie saw the lake. For one magnificent second, she went completely still.
Then she bolted. The leash slipped from Ty’s hand because Dottie had the density and determination of a sandbag with ears. She launched herself across the grass, through a cluster of players, past a shrieking child holding a juice box, and straight into the shallow, muddy edge of the water.
“Dottie!” I shouted.
She did not stop. She splashed in up to her chest, realized the bottom was soft, froze in deep regret, and then turned back toward us with mud up her legs, across her belly, and somehow on one ear.
Zee wheezed, “Oh my God.”
Dottie waddled out of the lake looking betrayed by both nature and physics.
Ty stared at her. “That is impressive.”
I set my coffee down on the nearest table, marched across the grass, and pointed at the dog. “Do not shake.”
Dottie shook. Mud and lake water flew in a horrifying radius. Marco made a noise like he had been mortally wounded. One of the equipment guys swore. Zee laughed so hard he bent over with his hands on his knees. A child cheered.
I closed my eyes. When I opened them, Dottie was staring up at me with a muddy face and absolutely no remorse.
Ty came up beside me, biting down on a smile.
I looked at him. “Do not.”
“I am thinking our dog has made choices.”
A small ripple moved through the people closest to us.
Bea’s sunglasses slid down her nose again.
I should have corrected him. I should have made a joke. I should have stepped sideways, reclaimed distance, built a wall out of sarcasm before anyone got too close to the truth.
Instead, I looked at Dottie, dripping mud onto the grass, and said, “Our dog needs a bath if she’s going to sleep in bed again tonight.”
Ty coughed once.
Bea went completely still.
Marco’s mouth fell open.
Zee’s head snapped up. Then he threw both arms in the air and shouted, “It’s about damn time!”
The lawn exploded. There was shouting. Laughing.
Someone clapped. Someone else yelled, “I knew it,” which was immediately answered by three different people claiming they had known it first. Jonah pointed at Ty and said something about hallway weirdness.
Milo shouted that Buzz had been obvious the entire time, which caused Ty to yell back that Milo thought sunscreen was a personality trait, so his observational skills were suspect.
Marco pressed both hands to his heart. “Second chance. Secret coffee. Team lake reveal. Mud-covered dog. This is cinema.”
Zee came barreling toward us like he was going to hug someone. I pointed one warning finger at him. “Do not make me regret this.”
He immediately pivoted to Ty and grabbed him, slapping him on the back hard enough to move him forward a step.
Ty laughed, but his eyes stayed on me.
Ezra joined in from the grill. “For the record, I knew before all of you.”
“No, you didn’t,” Lo scoffed. “You are ridiculous.”
“I am delighted.”
“Same thing,” Arlo called from the food table without looking up.
My brother’s voice cut through the chaos in that dry, familiar way that made something inside me loosen. He did not rush over. He did not make a scene. He just kept working, because Arlo’s love often looked like making sure everyone had enough food before processing anyone’s emotional revelations.
Petrov stood near the edge of the lawn, arms crossed. His expression had hardened the moment the team started cheering.
He looked once at Ty. Once at me. Then he huffed out a breath, turned, and walked toward the parking area without saying a word.
Bea pushed herself carefully out of her chair before Alois could help. She crossed the grass slowly, one hand at the underside of her belly, and came straight for me. She reached us, looked at me, looked at Ty, and then hugged us both at the same time.
It was awkward because Bea’s belly was between us, Ty was much taller than both of us, and Dottie tried to wedge her muddy body into the circle.
But Bea held on. “Oh,” she whispered.
I stared over her shoulder at the lake, my throat burning.
Ty’s hand settled lightly between my shoulder blades.
Bea pulled back and blinked too fast. “I am not emotional.”
“You are very emotional,” Alois said from behind her.
“I am allowed.” She turned her head. “I am pregnant.”
Alois looked at her like she had personally invented light. “Yes.”
Lo appeared with napkins that were absolutely useless against the Dottie situation and dabbed at Bea’s cheek anyway. “This is beautiful. Messy, but beautiful.”
“I am the messy part?” I asked.
“No, darling.” Lo glanced down.
Dottie wagged her muddy tail and flung more water onto Marco’s shoes.
Marco looked down in horror. “I have been marked by love.”
The reveal did not end so much as dissolve into the kind of affectionate chaos the Frosthawks seemed to generate by breathing.
Someone found a hose. Dottie decided the hose was both an enemy and a beverage.
Ty ended up soaked from the knees down while trying to rinse her off, laughing so hard he had to brace one hand on his thigh.
Zee narrated the entire thing like a playoff broadcast until Alois told him, very calmly, that silence was available.
Food came out. Kids ate watermelon on the dock. Players argued over paddleboards. Ezra burned one batch of hot dogs and then claimed it was an advanced grilling technique. Lo took the tongs away from him with the composure of a woman saving lives.
Through all of it, people looked at us.
The boy who had broken my heart and the woman who had finally let him close enough to prove he had learned how to hold it.
By the time Dottie tried to steal a hamburger directly from a paper plate and nearly took a folding chair down with her, my nervous system had had enough.
Arlo appeared at my elbow with two bottles of water and the expression of a man who had been waiting for me to reach capacity. “Want to walk your swamp creature?”
Dottie’s paws were still muddy despite the hose, and her ears had dried into uneven waves.
“She has had a day,” I said.
“So have you.”
Ty was across the lawn helping Cam unload another cooler from somebody’s car. He looked over like he had felt my attention, because apparently that was a thing we did now. His gaze moved from me to Arlo, then back to me.
I lifted Dottie’s leash. He nodded once.
Arlo waited until we were away from the lawn, following a narrow packed-dirt trail that curved along the tree line above the lake, before he said, “You’re doing the thing.”
“I do many things.”
“The thing where you look like you’re cataloging exits.”
“I work in operations. Knowing exits is sensible.”
“You’re at a lake lodge with the Frosthawks and a dog who currently smells like low tide.”