“We’re fine. We’re all fine here.”

“We can wash your shirt,” Pats told him. “We pretty much have laundry going around the clock now.”

“It’s fine,” he said again. “And you look terrific. And not just for somebody who gave birth a week ago.”

“We’re sleeping in snatches, my nipples are still in shock, and we’ve discovered a seven-pound human poops a half ton a day. It’s the best time of our lives. You brought us a dragon!”

“I brought Callie a dragon, and don’t forget it.”

He sat with her as Bick eased down, put up her feet.

She’d cut her hair into a Halle Berry sort of pixie and, to his eyes, looked nearly as adorable as her daughter.

“How’s your mom doing?” she asked him.

“She’s okay. It’s hard. Dom was a father to her. Having the kids today, tonight, it’s good all around.”

“Just one night?”

“Yeah, I’ll head back tomorrow. Mo’s got her spring dance recital this weekend. Maya’s coming to the finish line. I’m going by HQ later.” He stroked a finger down the baby’s cheek as he spoke. “Drop off some more work, catch up with everybody.”

“You know Cobalt Flame: Turn of the Demon’s killer, right? Thanks, babe,” she said as Pats brought her a glass of orange juice.

“Her evolving relationship with Angel adds the edge, and emotion. Plus, you know, battles. It’s all gotten me thinking more about the team forming we’ve talked about before.”

“Our superhero club.”

“Yeah, not just the crossovers we’ve done. The Front Guard.”

“The Front Guard.” Considering, Bick circled her foot. “Warlike. Sort of political. I like it. We’d need a story line that builds to it, bringing the characters we want as that core together. And we’d need the infrastructure. Where’s the HQ, what does it look like? You’re going to want a big, big bad to incentivize them to build that team, and keep it.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it. I’ve got some notes, a few early sketches. I figured I’d go over them with Jonah, then we could tele-conference.”

“Bick, baby? Why don’t you go into the office with Raylan?” Pats held up her hand before Bick objected. “You know you want to. We’ve got plenty of milk in the freezer. You nursed her an hour ago, so you’re good there. Get out for a couple hours.”

“Really? You’re sure?”

“For a chance to have her all to myself? Yeah, I’m sure. Raylan can drive you there and back, it’s still too far for you to walk round trip. But we can take a nice stroll when you get back. Get Callie out in the fresh air. You go.”

“Two hours. That would be good. Two hours,” she repeated, and looked at her daughter. “I haven’t been away from her for two minutes. I’m not sure I should … No, I’m not going to be that mom. Am I? No.”

She breathed out. “Okay, let’s go to the madhouse and talk The Front Guard.”

He ended up staying two nights—thrilling his kids and his mother—as the brainstorming revved up. One of those evenings he spent eating pizza from the same takeout place he and Lorilee had used at their old dining room table while he and his partners hammered out plotlines or rejected them.

“Look, I like the visual of the big-ass cavern HQ.” Jonah took another bite of pizza, one loaded with meat. “The stalactites, stalagmites, the passages. But it clicks too close to the demi-demon members.”

“I hate when he’s got a point.” Bick picked up one of the sketches scattered over the table. “Because I love this giant, self-illuminating stone table.”

“Remote’s the important thing. No One’s still got the military gunning for him.”

“We could use a cave anyway,” Jonah speculated. “But not deep underground. Maybe carved into a mountain. The Andes?”

They batted that back and forth, with Jonah eating with one hand, sketching with the other. The baby woke with a squall.

“That’s the hungry one,” Bick said before Pats could rise. “I’ve got her. What about the Himalayas? It’s mysterious.”

She lifted Callie out of the bassinet, sat again to ease her shirt open and nurse.

“I don’t know why you’re pushing them into caves and caverns.” Pats shrugged. “I mean, it’s dark. And they’re always fighting dark forces. You could give them an island, some remote tropical island. Sunshine and beaches.”

For a full ten seconds, no one spoke.

“Sorry. You’re the experts.”

“No.” Raylan shook his head. “We’re all sitting here thinking: Why the hell didn’t we come up with that? The Front Guard Island.”

“Far off the shipping lanes,” Jonah continued. “Lush and untouched. Could No One make an island disappear—not show on satellite imagery, on flyovers?”

“I can work with that.”

“It rose out of the sea, back in the far mists of time.” Bick beamed at Pats. “I really love you right now. I want a waterfall.”

“And a volcano,” Raylan said. “We have to have a volcano. HQ should be glass. Clear. Like it’s not there.”

“Holy shit, I’m loving that—and you, too, Pats,” Jonah said as he started a new sketch.

A good, productive trip, Raylan thought as he drove under the covered bridge to Traveler’s Creek. With Flame’s debut novel going into full production, the bones of The Front Guard set, and his next No One adventure underway, work rolled right along.

Personally, he now knew he’d fully, finally accepted that the house in Brooklyn belonged to his friends, and could even celebrate the life they built there.

He’d have dinner at his mother’s—as she’d already informed him—hear all about their Nana-cation. Once he got the kids home, bathed, in bed, he’d go right back to work.

The ideas just popped and sizzled in his head.

Then he saw Adrian, moving at a steady run with her big dog across the road. The snug pants, the color of wild violets, stopped midcalf—he could actually see the cut of those leg muscles. The tank, fluid, opened in the back, flowing out while her hair, a mass of curls, did the same.

He felt that tug, that twist and pull. He didn’t feel as guilty this time, but winced with embarrassment as he nearly drove right past his mother’s house.

He made the abrupt turn into the driveway, and when he got out of the car, saw Adrian and the dog turn the corner toward home.

She intended to run home, then found herself detouring. She wasn’t quite ready for the quiet of home, so turned toward Teesha’s.

She noted Raylan’s car still wasn’t in the drive. The Creek grapevine had it he’d gone to New York for a day or two. She hadn’t seen him since her grandfather’s memorial.

So much going on.

She started toward Teesha’s door, then heard the shouts and laughter from the backyard, made another detour.

Phineas and Collin made good use of the backyard playset, both of them with flushed cheeks and bright hoodies, scrambling up the steps to hit the slide.

She opened the gate, unleashed Sadie.