"Coming together is a beginning. Keeping together is progress. Working together is success."

Henry Ford

"Why can't the girls pick out their own paint?" Red asked, as we flipped through the endless shades of pink paint cards. "I mean, it's their birthday present."

For the twins' birthday, Red and I had somehow agreed to remodel their room. They'd already listed, in elaborate seven-year-old girl detail, exactly what they would require. From what I gathered, it was mostly about the beds. No longer could they stand the sheer injustice of their shared bunk bed. The only logical way to end the epic, everlasting, Top Bunk Feud was to give them each their own top bunk.

Thus I had been contracted to build a matching pair of loft beds, complete with built-in desks on the bottom. They'd even gone so far as to demand I paint them because raw-wood finish was so clearly for boys. It was said as if perhaps I hadn't noticed that they were not, in fact, boys. How I could have missed it between the ballet recitals and the penchant for butterfly barrettes was beyond me.

Red herself had been manipulated into re-painting the walls. I had heard the discussion on which paint to pick had quickly grown out of control and ended with much hair pulled, one broken vase, a two-week grounding for the twins, and two shots of Wild Turkey whiskey for my mother. Apparently Red had missed out on that particular party.

In an effort to help, I'd gone so far as to offer to paint my old room, and give them each their own space. This was met with three are-you-stupid glares from momma and the twins. Apparently, I should have known better than to suggest we separate the girls, even by something as simple as a wall.

It had been a long week.

Pinning Red with the most incredulous look I could muster at eight in the morning after a lengthy night patrol and day three of no sex - that time of the month was the worsttime of the month - I explained it simply. "They're seven-year-old girls."

She scoffed, and plucked a deep shade of orange-pink titled 'Coral' from the stack of paint-swatches in my hand. "Yeah?" She turned back to the wall of colors, nimble fingers flicking through the yellows. "So what?"

"Seven-year-old girls can barely be trusted to brush their own teeth," I explained, watching as she examined two identical shades of yellow, side-by-side. Oh they each had their own name, but even to my discernible eye, they were the same damn color. "Paint is mildly permanent. If I let them pick, they'll change their minds forty-seven times. And there's two of them, so that's ninety-four paint changes total. They might be twins, but they are night and day."

Suddenly her mouth turned up into a grin, and she snorted. "Yeah I know. Nora told me she didn't want pink."

"What?" Oh dear God; it was like they were all plotting against me. "Ana said pink! She was quite clear about it. It's on the fucking list. Paint the beds pink. " The paper crinkled in my hand as I clenched my fist. "They're fucking with me."

"They're seven-year-old girls," Red replied in a nasal tone, mocking me. "Anyway, just do the wall with the window in that deep pink, and the other three walls with..." She plucked one more yellow swatch from the rack and laid it against the coral. "Yep, this cream."

Yellow. It was yellow. "If I paint three walls yellow, and only one wall pink, Ana will throw a fit." The last thing I needed was Ana flipping her shit because I wasn't being fair. I already had to pour their chocolate milk with a measuring cup.

Red shoved the paint cards at me. "That's why you're going to paint the beds in a matching pink. It'll even out, and pull the room together." I stared at her in silence until she scowled. "Stop looking at me like that. I read it in a magazine or something."

"This coming from a girl who can't match her socks." Red shuffled guiltily, mouth pulling into a scowl. "Fuck it, I have beds to build. Want to help? I'll let you play with my drill gun." Her eyes lit up in a way they wouldn't have a year ago if someone mentioned power tools.

"I want to use your big one," she demanded, as we laid our color cards on the counter, and waited for whatever skinny-jean-wearing hipster serviceperson working the paint station to show up.

"You know I'll give you my big one." I wiggled my eyes, and tried to pass it off as a euphemism, even though it wasn't. Well, it mostly wasn't. Except for the part where it was; I was so hard up I was making power tool euphemisms.

Pulling her back against my chest, I buried my face into the curve of her shoulder, pushing the neckline of her shirt to the side. Red seemed to enjoy my penchant of nipping her there, shivering as I scraped my teeth across her skin. Shit, but I hated that time of the month. Why did she have to smell so good if I couldn't have her? Just being in breathing distance (which was probably like, a half a mile radius around her) made me chub up a little. Three days at half-mast had me going a little crazy. At least I felt comfortable enough in our relationship that the moment she was off her unmentionable time and had taken her goddamn anal-retentive shower, I was going to fuck her stupid against the nearest available surface.

Red made a noise, the squeaky little grunt she tended to make whenever she was nervous or startled, and I was drawn out of my internal chant of 'don't start humping her'. "Hey Tyler."

"Uh...hey Bella. And Sam."

Tyler. Who the fuck was Tyler?

Oh.

Oh.

The skinny-jean-wearing, paint-mixing hipster was the prematurely ejaculating assfuck I'd found in Red's house. I pulled myself up to full height and stared down at the little twerp. "Hello Tyler."

"Two of the yellow and one of the pink, right Sam?" Red pushed the cards across the counter. "Will that be enough?" She elbowed me in the stomach when I didn't answer. "Sam!"

Tyler was staring down at the cards like they held the answer to life, and I couldn't help but smile. Slipping my arms around Red, I leaned down, propping my chin on her head and tucked my thumbs into the waist of her jeans. "Oh, I don't know. Make it two of the pink; a little extra can't hurt. Knowing you, you'll have it all down your shirt two minutes into the job."

Red's sharp intake of breath was quiet, but both Tyler and I heard it. I grinned while the little assclown's eyes widened. "Right I'll just...uh...get that for you. It'll be like...two minutes. Er."

"Oh well, take your time buddy," I said, every word dripping saccharine sweet. To be fair, he'd set himself up for that one. "No need to rush through it."

Bumbling, Tyler turned to the paint mixer behind the counter. Red tilted her head back to look up at me, and whispered furiously, "Really Sam? Why don't you just pee on my leg?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Brushing my thumbs across her hip bones, I chuckled quietly when she tried to squirm out of my grip. "What do we have to do after this?" Hopefully nothing. I had every intention of spending the evening fruitlessly trying to convince Red I had no problems having sex with her on her period. It would amount to nothing, but I'd like to know I at least tried.

"We should probably hit up the grocery store." Red relaxed against me, happy to change the subject. "Your house is like... void of anything edible. Also, I told the girls I'd make cookies. They want chocolate-chip walnut, but I doubt the little market on the Rez will have walnuts so I want shop while we're in Forks."

Eying Tyler over Red's head, I smirked a little harder. "Isn't it a little early in the season to be busting a nut?" Tyler flailed, hands nearly knocking our first can of paint to the floor. "Although I guess you could always buy the unshelled kind."

"Sorry, sorry!" The apology rushed out of him as he grabbed the next can. "I'll just...it'll be another few minutes."

"Hey, no worries; I thought Red would take longer to pick her paint out, so we have time, and I'm sure you'll finish sooner than she expected anyway."

"Sam."

"What?" My smile belied my befuddled tone, and I could hardly keep myself from laughing outright. "Groceries all we need?"

"No," Red replied, leaning back against me, her tone still wary. "I need to swing by Outfitters and pick up my pictures, and then the post office because I promised my mother I would send her pictures last week but then I never got around to it."

"Better late than never." I paused, and snorted. "Or early."

"Oh my God Sam, shut up."

"What?" I could hear Tyler grumbling under his breath, even over the whining grind of the paint mixer. Poor kid; he never stood a chance. "Anyway, groceries, Outfitters, post office? Anything else?"

She scowled, but continued. "Yeah, I need to go to the bank and cash my check, and I need to grab some clothes from my dad's house."

"Will you be dropping a quick load off while we're there?" That time I didn't manage to keep from snorting. "Of laundry, I mean. Dirty laundry."

"You're a horrible person." Red huffed, and I knew she was dying to cross her arms over her chest, but couldn't with my arms in the way. "Seriously. It's not even funny. "

"What? Too soon?" She stomped on my foot, and I laughed. "To be making those kind of jokes!"

"Oh my God, you're such a jerk. Keep it up and I'll make you walk home."

"At least I won't get there before you."

"Are you fucking kidding me, Sam?" Her shoulders shook, and I knew without looking she was trying not to laugh out of respect for whatever friendship she had with the kid. Tyler could hear every single word I said, and we all knew it.

Tyler returned to the counter, sliding our cans across the Formica surface. He rang them up quickly, and sighed. "Will there be anything else I can help you with? Brushes? Trays? Rollers?"

"That won't be necessary; I have everything Red needs." Releasing my octopus-like hold on her, I gathered all four paint cants by their handles. "Ready? The sooner we get back, the sooner you can get your hands on my big drill gun."

"I am going to hurt you," Red enunciated every word with a growl. "It was uh...nice seeing you, Tyler."

"Right. Nice. Yeah."

""Right, well... I'm just going to go curl up in a corner and die of embarrassment. Come on, Sam." She waved at Tyler, and turned away from the counter toward the door. "We have shit to do. When do you think you'll be finished with the beds? Tonight?"

Keeping my face neutral and my tone blasé, I shrugged. She made it too easy. "Maybe, since the wood's already cut down to size. Might take a little longer though. You know me; I never finish early."

"Dude, you win! Just please stop already."

Looking over my shoulder, I caught sight of Tyler, shaking his head where he stood behind the counter. "Excuse me?" He didn't look angry, just defeated and perhaps a little amused.

"You win. I mean obviously you already won because you have her, don't you? But come on! Give a guy a break. Yes, I jumped the gun a little. But do you blame me? She'shot."

"True. I get to see her naked." It came out in a very grade-school neener-neener tone, but that couldn't be helped. Apparently the combination of blue balls and possessiveness turned me into a twelve-year-old boy. I was in a permanent state of half-hard, she wasn't giving it up, and Fate had decided to present me with the one and only other guy on Red's sexual roster. It was making me a little irrational; I was man enough to admit that much.

"Sam!" Red blushed, slapping her palm against her face. She shoved at my back, in a fruitless effort to move me towards the door. "Alright, enough male posturing, let's go. Bye Tyler!"

"After you." I jerked my head toward the exit, and grinned like a shark. "Ladies first, after all."

Tyler's laughter followed us out to the car. I'd give the kid credit; he might not have been able to handle his junk all that well, but he could certainly take a joke.

Setting the paint in the back of my pick-up, I smiled. "You know what? I like him. Kid's alright."

It was cold, blankets of snow coating everything as far as the eye could see. The end of December had come, bringing with it Christmas, among other things. No one had shown up yet for the dead vampire, but the Pack had not let down their guard. Assuming Red was correct about the blond leech's identity, it had been some many months before she came for the French vampire. Who was to say her family would be any different? I suspected time passed differently for vampires. After all, when you have an eternity, what's a few months?

Red was with her father in Port Angeles, Christmas shopping. I'd sent Jake with them, if only to ease my mind. I didn't think it was much of a hardship; without the word 'love' hanging awkwardly over their heads, they fell into an even deeper and unbreakable friendship. Even the beastlier half of me liked it. It made sense to me, as Alpha, that my second-in-command protects my mate.

I was at the Ephraim house, effectively known as The Hallow now. It was very nearly finished , furnished slowly in a hodgepodge of mix-matched pieces. Between patrols, the tribe, and work, I barely had much time for it. I spent what time I could here, perfecting every square inch of the house. Finishing up in the master bedroom, I had just put away the drop cloths, and cleaned the brushes. The cloying sent of wet paint still hung in the air. Beluga, Sweet Almond, and Indian Clay; I'd found the color cards crumpled in the pocket of Red's jeans at the bottom of my laundry basket. Indian Clay had been my own addition; how could I not choose red?

Stupid paint names aside, they were gray, yellow, and red, just like the afghan my mother had knitted me. I had to admit though, they looked nice, every wall painted in the deep, tranquil gray, the trim done in the yellow, and the windows done in red. Red had been risky, but hadn't it always?

The house was finally finished. All it needed was her.

Running my paint-stained hands beneath the upstairs bathroom tap, I barely heard the front door click shut. "Up here!" I called, assuming it to be the Home Inspector. I'd been expecting his visit today. He worked with us so often, that he knew to let himself in. "Master bedroom."

It was only when the bedroom door swung open that I caught her scent, moments too late to keep her from finding the inevitable.

"Sam?"

I froze, hands dripping on the floor as I stared at Red from the master suite bathroom door. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Port Angeles."

She took in the room with wide eyes, gaze landing on the bed. There it was, my old counter top, converted into a headboard just as I promised. "Dad wanted to leave early; snow's coming. Sam...is this your cottage?"

"Um." I blinked, wiping my hands down the front of my jeans. "Uh yeah, I mean yes. I bought it."

She swallowed, eying the freshly painted walls. Her colors, her choices. "This house was just finished. Why would that guy sell it to you? I mean, he put so much..." Red stopped short, mouth snapping shut with an audible click. "He didn't sell it to you did he?"

"No." There was no sense in lying about the obvious. "I bought it the day after you burnt the field down. Billy put up a hell of a fight. He wanted to give it to me, but I wouldn't have it. I gave him double what he offered, and not nearly what it's worth."

Red fingers brushed the afghan as she pushed the rocker I'd stolen out of her bedroom in Forks. She laughed, a soft sound I'd rarely heard from her. "I love this house."

"I know you do." There had to be something manlier then butterflies, but I hard pressed to explain the fluttering in my stomach any other way. "I built it for you. We built it. For us. For when you're ready. Whenever. It'll be here."

She blew out a long, slow breath, setting her bangs aflutter. "But we weren't together then." Looking at me with her big brown eyes, I could see the questions there. "When I burnt down Billy's house you couldn't stand me, and I couldn't stand you."

Making a protesting noise, I looked down at the floor. From the moment I met you, I've loved you. "I was going to wait until you were ready to move in with me, to give you the key."

She sat on the bed, fingers dancing across the refinished night stand I'd converted from kitchen cabinets Paul's father had sold me for a song. They matched the oak headboard perfectly; both nicked and stained with time and age, imperfections shining through the layers of lacquer. I liked the effect. "You built me a house." She spoke quietly, staring hard at the stained wood finish of the bedside table. "You built me a house."

"Yes." Swallowing, I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Are you mad?" There was a very good chance, commitments made aside, that it was just way too early for this kind of thing. Considering I'd started building her a house before our fateful first fuck, I wouldn't blame her for being a little freaked out.

Pushing up off the bed, she made her way to the window. It overlooked the back yard, and caught the most sun. "This is possibly the single most amazing thing anyone has ever done for me. And considering all the amazing things you and the pack and your mom and...and everyone here has done for me, that's saying something. Sam, this house is beautiful. I feel like it was made just for me."

"It was." I'd even lowered the counter tops by six inches just so she could cook easier. Every single square inch of the house, right down to the red front door, was for her.

"Yeah, I got that." She laughed, staring down into the back yard. "You know, Edward used to talk about moving away. We talked about going to Dartmouth or Alaska for school. He said we could buy a house anywhere, anything I wanted. But it wouldn't have been. He would have bought some ostentatious townhouse, or a 'quaint' little mansion just on the outskirts of town. And I probably would have thought it was too much, but loved it anyway. But this..." Shaking her head, Red smiled. "This is amazing. You made us a house."

"A home."

Nodding, her fingers danced along the red window frame, paint just dry enough not to smudge. "Are you mad that I'm not ready?"

I wasn't mad. Disappointment lingered at the edges of my mind, but no more than usual. I always wanted her with me, in any capacity I could have her. "Like I said, it's here for you when you're ready."

Obviously relieved, she nodded, moving to the salvaged chest of drawers I hadn't yet refinished. She fiddled with the knobs, tugging the empty drawers open. "When are you going to move in?"

"Whenever you're ready." Seeing her pending protest, I shook my head at her, leaning against the bathroom door jam. "Red, it's not my house. It's our house, and I refuse to live in it without you. I won't."

Seemingly amused at my sudden petulance, she crossed the room, tucking herself in against my chest. "Show me the rest?"

"You've seen it," I laughed, burying my face into her hair. "Hell, you built half of it."

"Not half," she was quick to deny, circling my waist with her arms. "And I want to see it again. It's mine now, so it's different. And clearly you've been busy because it wasn't so furnished last time I was here. You stole my rocking chair."

"I stole that mirror your dad had at the end of the upstairs hall too," I admitted. "It's above the fireplace in the living room now." Charlie hadn't asked any questions when he'd seen me taking it either. I suspect, through the big-mouth of Billy Black, that he knew. I took his silence as his blessing. That was just Charlie's way.

She snorted, mouth spreading across her face in a wide grin. "I thought that buffet in the dining room looked familiar. That's Billy's old sideboard. Sarah used to serve these big huge dinners on it, before Jacob covered it in dirty car parts."

I laughed and took her hand, leading her to the hall. "Yeah, Billy took it out while he was doing his remodeling, and realized that he'd been busting his fingers on it, squeezing in from the hall to the kitchen, for years. He was happy to hand it off." I think it made him happy to know Red would use it just as his Sarah had.

"Jacob will probably miss his work station." She snorted, and pushed open the first door, a guest room. "Very subtle with the gender-neutral color scheme, Sammy, really. Don't hold back or anything."

The room was blue. Unmistakably blue, and almost entirely empty save for a few bookcases on the far wall.

"It's called Rain Washed," I explained, amused by the face she made. "The trim is Beachwalk." Otherwise known as tan.

Her nose was still scrunched up as she danced her fingers across the old raw-wood bookcase lining the wall on each side of the window nook. "Hoping for a boy?" She pouted, all petulance and sighs. I kind of wished she had more faith in me than that, but at the same time I couldn't blame her. The room really was very blue.

"Home office, actually. Joy Ateara gave me those shelves when we did a little remodeling in the In-Law cottage behind her house. I thought they'd be nice for your books." That wiped the snotty little look off her face. "I built the bench seat into the window when you said it would be a good place to read. It's not a nursery, Red."

She flushed, and gave me a chagrined smile. "What's next?"

"The guest room." Leading her to the room at the end of the hall, I nudged her in. It was blinding, even without the door fully open.

"Holy yellow, batman." She blinked at the bright walls, sunlight pouring in through the curtained window. "This color?"

"Torchlight. It's way too bright, isn't it? It seemed softer on the card. Might do the accent wall thing we did in the girls room to tone it down a bit." Much to my surprise, Red had been right about that. The girls' room had turned out amazing, even with her odd-ball color choices.

"What's with the bunk beds?" She slapped her hand against the sturdy beds. "These were Ana and Nora's, yeah?'

"Mine actually," I explained with a fond smile, running my hand down the stained wood. "Mom gave them to the girls and made my room a guest room long after I moved out. I snagged these when we switched them out for the loft beds. I figured they'd be nice for when the girls come by, or if the guys need a place to crash."

She snorted, tugging the corner of the blanket where it hanged down from the top bunk. "I would really like to see one of the guys curled up on these things."

"Yeah I might have to reinforce it a bit." I laughed, tugging her out of the yellow room. "You've pretty much seen everything else."

Following me down the stairs, she pushed passed me at the landing. "You mean you haven't changed anything else? Huh." She paused, looking up over the fireplace. "That's actually a really pretty mirror. I hardly ever noticed it at Charlie's."

The thing was massive; a four foot tall German Black Forest wood-carved monstrosity straight from the 19th century. "It has some names on the back, Elaine and Andrew Swan, and a date - 1867. It's been in your family a while."

In the mirror, I watched her brow lift in surprise. "And Charlie just gave it up? The man is the worst pack rat, I swear. "

Smirking, I stepped forward, propping my chin on her head and wrapping my arms around her. "He knew what I was up to, I think." She blinked, and I laughed. "I bought the house from Billy, Red."

"Yeah, he'd never keep his trap shut." Running her fingers down the side of the fireplace – sand-smoothed stones fished off the shores of our very own First Beach - she grinned at me through the mirror. "You mess with my kitchen?"

Lifting a brow, I pulled her away from the mantel, towards the kitchen. "Your kitchen?"

"Do you deny it?" Taking my hand into hers, she tugged me through the arch, hands dancing across Sarah's buffet in the dining room before pushing through the kitchen's swinging double-doors. "Gah! I love this kitchen! I love that you made me this kitchen. Jesus, stop being such a perfect jerk." She spun, her smile so big it bordered on painful. "Seriously, it's unfair. How can I be expected to live up to your awesomeness? You're perfect. Stupid and perfect. You disgust me, really."

"Flatterer," I deadpanned, pushing her up against the new kitchen island. Red looked so happy standing there in our kitchen, hair still damp from the snow. She looked beautiful, and bright, and it was all for me. That in itself was by far the best gift I could have asked for. Even from the beginning, when it was nothing but spit and vitriol, I only ever wanted this; her happy and preferably with me. If the journey had been hard, it had been worth it. The juice was worth the squeeze.

It was that moment that I realized I'd never tell her about the imprint. There was no need. Because the imprint only brought her to me; I loved her all on my own. Sure, I cherished her from the moment my eyes met hers, but what I thought was love then could not compare to this moment.

This was she and I, and the rest of it didn't matter. I'd never tell her, because this? The imprint had nothing on this. The imprint was a moment when two soulmates met, butthis?

This was when two soulmates fell in love.

"You're perfect too you know? Perfect for me. You know that, right?" Capturing her chin between my thumb and finger, I tilted her head back. "You're it for me. Do you understand what I'm saying? You and me forever."

Her smile faltered, lashes fluttering. "I...Sam-"

"Shush." I pressed my thumb over her mouth, and shook my head at her. "No, listen to me. You are everything I didn't know I wanted, and more. You are the most complicated, stubborn, difficult woman I have ever had the opportunity to meet. You're amazing, and you're mine, and that will never change. You made me a better chief, a better Alpha, and a better person all around, Red. You make me stronger. There is no force in this fucking world that could make it different. You have to understand that. You have to know that. You and me, Red. Forever." I moved my thumb, brushing it over her cheek, and cupping her face. "Got it?"

Swallowing, she nodded, curling her hand over my wrist where I still held her face. "Forever."

Clearing my throat, I shifted awkwardly on my feet. I wanted her to know, but I didn't want her to dwell on it. I'd never tell her, but I wouldn't stop her from knowing. I had to be confident in what we had that no matter how mad she was, she'd understand. She was such a little martyr, I thought she'd understand better than most. "Yes. Well, just so that's clear. Hey, did you see this?" I pointed up above her head to the pan rack hanging over the kitchen island. "We'll have to get you a stool to use it. I always wanted one in the cabin, but the ceilings were too low."

With one last soft look, her mouth curled up into another smile as she tilted her head back to look up at the rack. "Is that copper?"

"Yep. Sue Clearwater tore the island out of her kitchen because she wanted more open space. Said this thing just didn't look right hanging over nothing. Harry actually called me and asked if I wanted it."

"Billy has a huge mouth," Red snorted. "Seriously, does everyone know but me?"

Laughing, I wound a piece of her hair between my fingers. "No, not even the Pack knows it's mine. Just the council and that's only because this is chief land, and there was some confusion about it being handed out of the Black line. Apparently I shouldn't have had to buy it, but what's done is done. Billy deserved the money."

She hooked her fingers into my belt loops and sighed contentedly. "So let me get this straight. You have Jacob's buffet, Quil's bookcase, your bunk bed, Seth and Leah's pan rack... What about Paul, Embry and Jared?"

"What?" I frowned, confused as to what she was getting at.

"Do you have stuff from Paul, Embry, and Jared too?"

"Uh...the nightstands by our bed are converted kitchen cabinets from Paul's dad's place, and the uh...the kitchen doors," I pointed to the swinging double doors. "Those are actually Michelle's old shutters. They were torn off in the storm."

"And Jared?"

Blinking, I looked around the house, frowning. "Oh, the flower boxes. His mother sold me her wooden ones when she switched to plastic. Why? I mean it's not uncommon for people to trade stuff off on the Rez."

"Oh shut up, you know I'm not going to get all snobby about second-hand stuff. I love it; everything has its own story here. I just thought it was kind of cute."

"Cute?" I blinked. "Excuse me. I think you're mistaken. I'm not cute. I'm manly and irresistible. I built you a house with my bare hands. And you know, a bulldozer. Whatever. Semantics. "

"Baby," Red cooed at me, giving me a pat on the cheek. "You made your pups a den."

"What?" This wasn't a Pack house. This was our home.

She laughed at the face I made. "You made a wolf den. You even brought something from all of our homes, made it extra comfortable and welcoming for them. I mean, that's why you took my rocker and mirror, right? To make it more homey for me?"

"Well yes," I cleared my throat again, looking away from her awkwardly. "I just wanted it to feel like a home to you."

"A den. Our den. " Wrapping her arms around me, she squeezed me tightly. "This might be our home, but you made sure your wolves would be welcome here. You even gave them a room. You're such a mother wolf."

Flushing, I squirmed. "Shut up. I was just being...uh...fiscally conscious. Reduce, reuse and recycle and stuff."

"Whatever makes you feel macho and Alpha-like, momma wolf." Giving me another tight hug, she hummed happily, curling her body against mine. "I want you to know that a very significant part of me wants to move in here right now, but..."

"No rush," I assured her. "Seriously. This house, it's not going anywhere. And neither am I."

"Can I have my key anyway?"

Fishing the key out of my pocket, I handed it over with a confused expression. "Of course. Why?"

"Just so I can remind myself that it's here. And mine. Just like you."

Feeling decidedly sappy, I pulled her tight against me, burying my face into the curve of her shoulder. "Just like me."

Red snorted against my chest, body shaking with laughter. "This key is more of an engagement ring to me than an engagement ring would be."

"We're already married. Excuse me, committed to each other forever."

"Shush you. Don't ruin the moment."

tbc