“Morning,” Scott said, passing me to greet Harper Ann. Even though the couples had children in the NICU, Travis had insisted on a full background check. Scott was a former Marine; a half-inch thick, long, curved scar left a crevice just above his ear toward the back of his head, disrupting his silver hair, a scar from a head wound he’d survived in Afghanistan. Travis felt better leaving us alone when Scott was there, and lately, that was a lot.

I nodded to him, patting Carter’s back. Carter let out a strong burp, and Scott and I chuckled.

Scott scrubbed his hands in the sink and then leaned over Harper Ann’s bed. “Hi, baby.” She stirred, and a wide grin spread across Scott’s face. “Mommy’s on her way up. Yes, she is. She’s talking to Gramma and the doctor. She can’t wait to see you. She talked about you last night until she fell asleep.”

I rocked Carter, turning to smell his hair. Dark, wispy sprouts covered his head, and I loved to feel them against my cheek. It was a new experience, nuzzling one baby at a time instead of two. Jessica and James were my first try at motherhood, and they were so much work that I didn’t have many instances to just sit and enjoy them. Carter was quiet for the most part and loved to be held. We snuggled every day, and the nurses said he’d fuss just before I arrived, seeming to know I would be there soon. Once he was in my arms, we were both content.

I hummed to him, trying to imprint the memory in my brain; his smell, how small his diapered tush felt in my hand, the length and softness of his fingers. The shape of his fingernails. The way his lashes fell against his cheeks when he slept. The sound he made when he breathed. He would be bigger tomorrow. I didn’t want to forget.

“Well, hi there,” Shelly said, greeting Travis.

I felt my eyes widen, and I tried not to wake Carter in my excitement while I watched the nurse help Travis with his sterile gown. I leaned forward as my husband bent over to kiss me. He pecked my lips and then rushed over to the sink to scrub his hands. He seemed animated. He nodded to Scott and then returned to me, holding out his hands for our son.

I giggled. “Did you miss him?”

“Gimme,” he said.

We traded places, and Travis cradled Carter. No matter how much Carter grew every day, he still looked tiny in Travis’s enormous arms.

Travis pushed back gently with his toes, rocking our son while gazing down at him.

“You’ve been gone three days this time,” I said. “Don’t forget, Lena isn’t here to help.”

“Tying up loose ends,” he said.

“You have good news?”

He looked up at me. “It’s done.”

I crossed my arms across my middle, hesitant to hope. “What’s done? Like permanent done or investigation is done so we start the trial process.”

“A few of them will go to trial.”

“And the rest?”

“It was the last raid, Pidge. There aren’t any Carlisis left. The rest are soldiers. Grunts. They’re being held without bail. They’ll be in the system for a year before they’re sentenced, and then they’ll spend thirty years in prison by the time they serve for every count.”

“And Mick?” I asked, feeling my throat tighten.

“Immunity, as we promised. As long as he stays away.”

I nodded, satisfied. “And now?”

Travis cleared his throat. He was getting a little emotional. It had been five weeks since the funeral. Liis had been staying with us, and it was difficult watching her wait.

“He’s coming home.”

“Today?”

Travis nodded.

“Does Liis know?”

“I thought we’d let him surprise her.”

My hand flew up to my mouth. “And your dad? What about the twins?”

“They’re on their way home.”

They were just here two weeks before, visiting more often to check on Jim. The funeral had taken a toll on him. He’d lost weight and had grown more frail every day. Travis’s smile faded as he watched our sleeping son, the burden of the truth on his mind. He was here, but he was a million miles away, worrying about his father’s and brothers’ reactions.

“They’ll understand,” I said, kneeling in front of Travis.

“No, they won’t,” he said, not taking his eyes off Carter. “They’ll hate us.”

“Maybe for a while, but they’ll get over it. They have to.”

Travis looked up at me with tears in his eyes. “Was it worth it?”

“It probably seems all for nothing now that everything is fine, but before, when we weren’t sure? It happened exactly the way we’d hoped. They backed off. It bought us time to form a plan without being targeted.” I touched his arm. “It was a good plan. Difficult from start to finish, but it worked.”

Travis nodded and then returned his gaze to our son. “We have to go soon. He’s on his way.”

“On his way here? Now?”

“He hasn’t seen Stella since she was two days old, Pidge. He can’t wait any longer.”

I couldn’t argue with that. “When?”

Travis looked up at the clock on the wall. “Two hours.”

“Oh, my God. He’s really coming home.”

“He’s really coming home.”

Liis was standing over Carter’s crib, her daughter surrounded by blues and greens. Stella had been using Carter’s nursery while they were staying with us. I was glad. Stella’s presence made my son’s room feel less empty.

Liis tucked her dark hair behind her ear. It was six inches shorter than the last time I’d seen her, just a couple of hours before.

“You cut your hair,” I whispered, feeling stupid for stating the obvious.

She turned to me flatting the strands against her head with her palm. “Yeah.” Her eyes filled with tears.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. I’d never seen Liis cry until she arrived at Jim’s to tell us all the news. Now, it seemed she cried every time she spoke. “You don’t like it?”

“I just,” she sniffed. “I wasn’t thinking. I’ll look so different when Thomas sees me. Stella will look so different. If I’d kept it the same, it wouldn’t be so shocking for him.”

“He’ll love it,” I said, reassuring her. “He will. You don’t look that different. He’ll notice, but he’ll love it.”