Page 323 of Wild Card 13

“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.”