Epilogue （3）
The Week Before Christmas…
Zero
I hate Zoos.
Alright.
Not all zoos, but most.
They’re not my thing.
Protected parks that get branded zoos?
My thing.
Natural habitats like this where there are acres and acres of land for the animals to live wildly yet safely while also allowing scientists to study molecular genetics, reproductive physiology and patterns, nutrition, reintegration, plant micro propagation, and conservation medicine as well as non-invasive healing techniques for injured creatures?
So. My. Thing.
Metal bars, barely any room to move, no purpose other than to give kids a place to visit during school field trips or shitty summer vacay?
No.
Fuck. No.
I’m actually – anonymously – on some random zoo terrorist watchlist last I checked, although I prefer to think of myself as a animal rights activist.
Here’s the tea.
Zoos that poorly take care of animals deserve to shut down and have those animals moved to better institutes.
Salay fights for the ocean.
I fight for nature.
You know.
When I’m not working on whatever encryption cracking task Ravencroft or one of her also well-paying associates is requesting.
I honestly don’t mind picking up work on the regs for the syndicate.
Again.
They pay really fucking well.
Plus, it allows me to do cheap shit when it comes up.
Like just last week when Garcia asked could I dig up some shit on this poor divorced mom of three’s MLB ex who didn’t wanna pay her child support because he’d rather buy her replacement a new pair of tits and labiaplasty.
Yeah.
Real thing.
Odd thing.
Nonetheless, not more important than making sure your kids have enough money for hockey gear and Christmas presents.
Digging up shit on him barely took an afternoon, but Garcia insisted he charge me for something on the company’s dime.
I let him take me lunch.
Then have me after lunch in his office.
Most of the people there are used to seeing my face now and even welcome it.
Only a couple sneer at the idea of all three of us being a thing, but I don’t let it get to me.
Especially because I have the right files to email over if they ever try to make it a thing.
People who deeply participate in the furries lifestyle behind closed doors shouldn’t be so quick to judge those of us who simply have two partners instead of one.
End of chat.
“Look! Look!” I loudly squawk, thoughtlessly rocking the open-air chairlift we’re on with my pointing. “Over there’s where we’ll see the snow leopard!”
“After hiking to the highest point of the entire place,” grumbles Garcia to my right.
“Um…going halfway across the country to take Tiny Toon Adventures here on his dream vacation for his birthday weekend was your idea,” Salay sasses, thumb gently stroking my knee where’s it’s resting.
“Have the court reporter read back to you the agreed upon timetable for this shit, and you will have to concede that you had plenty of time to wear in your new orthopedics, Counselor.”
“Old and legal insults in the same breath…” he adjusts the arm that’s around my shoulder, “impresionante.”
“Hardly,” she refutes. “I do more impressive shit than that in my sleep.”
And I love when we get to all sleep together in one big seal pile.
Unforntuately, it hasn’t been happening lately.
They’ve been on the road – for their respective reasons – leaving me to spend a lot of time alone.
Or with Nolan and Kipp and Bunny.
They don’t mind when I randomly pop by to hang.
Share soggy Cheese-Its with Diesel.
Dream about what they have for myself.
I kinda dig the idea more and more of us ditching the WI-FI thing we’ve got going on now and hardwiring into one another.
But IDK.
I think it’s just me who wants that.
They never bring it up.
Not even when it would be the time to bring it up.
And it’s not like I’m not happy with our sitch.
I am!
I really am!
I just…I hope for more.
I hope…they want more.
“The habitat includes heated rocks for them,” I brag as the chairlift continues to rise to the very top.
“The cats are living better than us right now,” Salay playfully pouts. “Where’s that justice in that?”
Light laughs are cut off short by our boyfriend asking, “Many rocks? Or just one?”
“Def more than one.”
“How about you? Do you need many rocks?” My brow pulls together in confusion prior to cutting my attention over my shoulder to wear his free hand is holding up the unexpected. “Or perhaps just one?”
There’s no catching my jaw from falling into my lap.
“One that we want you to wear when it’s hot.
When it’s cold. When there’s sunshine. When there’s rain.
When we’re near. When we’re far. When there’s great internet and terrible.
” He inches the platinum band bearing a tiger’s eye gem in the center.
“Marry us,” Garcia declares in such a way I have to look over at Salay to verify it really is an us rather than just him scenario.
She eagerly nods in agreement, indicating this was an agreed upon action.
“Di que sí,” he passionaitely purrs, thumb giving my arm an encouraging stroke. “Say yes and spend forever with us.”
“Yeah,” quietly escapes as the chairlift stops at the highest point. “Yeah…” Nodding is immediately followed by my mouth briefly smashing against his. “Yeah!” Switching to allow my lips to quickly taste hers occurs next. “Yeah!”
“I think he’s into this marriage thing,” Salay teasingly shoots in our boyfriend – er fiancé’s direction.
“You said us,” I quickly verify, wanting the words out loud. “As in all of us. As in-”
“Legally getting around shit is my specialty,” Garcia insists while Salay lifts my hand the ring to be slipped on, “and fucking with paperwork is yours,” the piece of jewelry slowly gets inched on, “and rewriting rules is hers-”
“I’m very good at it.”
“So, yes. All of us are in on this marriage.” The second the ring is in place, he offers me a small warm-hearted grin. “We knew you needed a proposal of some kind; therefore…we wanted you to have it.”
“Wait,” my stare swings to hers, “you don’t?”
“Fuck no,” she brushes off as another gust of winter air blows past us. “I have you. I have him. I have what I need. No ring necessary.”
“But like…my guy,” my gaze glides back over to him, “we’re gonna get her a ring, right?”
“Sí,” chuckles Garcia before planting a kiss on the side of forehead. “We picked out yours. We’ll pick out hers-”
“I really don’t need one.”
“And you two – if you want-”
“We’ll so want,” I mirthfully interrupt.
“-you can pick out mine.”
Unfathomable joy and excitement rips through my system not only rebooting the entire thing but bringing it online in a way I’ve only dreamt of. “We’re really doing this?!”
“We’ve already been doing this,” Salay reminds at the same time Garcia extends his now free hand over to fold fingers with her in my lap. “We’re just agreeing to keep doing this…” Her eyes find mine, allowing me to see the adoration. “Forever.”
“Para siempre,” echoes our salt and pepper haired partner.
Both of my hands land lovingly on top of theirs, sealing our fates together alongside my whispered agreement, “Forever.”
***
Thank you for reading Devilish Debt (The Debt Tales #3)!