<h4>Chapter 139: Grace: Started Early</h4>


    I turn to find the elderly couple from the nearby RV approaching with cheerful waves. The woman’s dressed like she’s out for a hike, with a huge, floppy hat on her head. The man’s wearing overalls sttered in oil and paint. Both of them walk with a spryness belying their apparent age; judging by their wrinkles and the whiteness of their hair, they’re pushing seventy.


    Then again, I’ve never been great at guessing age. Once I thought someone was forty, and it turned out they were in their twenties. Another time I thought someone was sixty, and he was seventy-three.


    Don’t get me started on kids. I’m notoriously bad at guessing them. I’ve already been guessing Bun at two and Jer at about eight, Sara around ten, and Ron at fifteen. I should probably ask them. As their de facto guardian of the moment, I should definitely know how old these kids are.


    Behind me, I can practically feel Caine coiling with tension. Before he can do something regrettable—like growl at two senior citizens—I hustle forward to intercept.


    "Hello!" I call, stering on my best everything-is-normal smile. I hope I don’t look like a freaking lunatic. "What a strange storm, right?"


    "Don’t," Caine warns under his breath. "You shouldn’t talk to strangers."


    I shoot him a look over my shoulder and hiss, "They were here first. It’s not like they followed us." Then I ster a weing smile back on my face as I greet our new neighbors.


    I never expected to be the family with a bunch of kids at some sort of camping spot, but here I am, with four of them. And a wolf I have to somehow pass off as a dog.


    ... hopefully Fenris doesn’t eat them.


    The couple stops a respectful distance away, their smiles unwavering. There’s something oddly symmetrical about them, their posture mirroring each other with uncanny precision. I’ve heard old couples start looking like each other over time.


    Does that mean I’m going to look like Caine when I’m old...?


    "Quite the electrical storm," the man says, his voice pleasantly weathered. "I think I finally understand what they mean by that term!" He chuckles, like he’s made a joke.


    The woman nods, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Did you all lose power too? Our camper’s been on the fritz since it hit. Batteries arepletely drained! We’re going to have to power up the generator."


    "We had some issues," I admit, rxing slightly. We’re all just normal people making normal conversation. Nothing strange here.


    Movement at my feet draws my attention. The retriever—Sadie, if I remember correctly—has belly-crawled thest few feet to where I’m standing, her eyes fixed hopefully on my face. I bend down to pet her, running my fingers through her soft fur.


    Caine growls again, the warning in his tone unmistakable.


    I ignore him. Sadie’s fur is silky, warm from the sun, and she leans into my touch with a contented sigh. At least someone isn’t afraid to let me near them.


    "She’s usually much more reserved with strangers," the woman says, sounding mildly surprised.


    Jer and Sara have edged closer, their eyes bright with excitement.


    "Can we pet her too?" Sara asks, practically wiggling.


    The man nods, his smile widening. "Of course! Sadie loves children."


    The kids don’t need further invitation. They crowd around the retriever, who epts their enthusiastic pats with dignified patience.


    I notice Bun wriggling in Caine’s arms, clearly wanting to join the fun, but he holds her firmly, his expression unyielding.


    A presence at my shoulder makes me start. Ron has materialized beside me, silent as always. Has he always been so tall? He’s past my height now, hisnky frame filling out with adolescent muscle. It’s literally been two days. He couldn’t possibly grow in two days, right?


    "The weather’s just getting weirder each year, isn’t it?" he says to the couple, his voice gentle and a little deeper than usual.


    The elderly pair chuckle appreciatively.


    "Such good manners," the woman says, beaming at Ron. Her gaze shifts between him, Caine, and me, taking in our mismatched group. She tuts knowingly, her smile softening. "You two got started on your family early, didn’t you?"


    My brain fries at her insinuation. I blink rapidly, my mouth opening and closing without producing sound.


    Do I... look old enough to have a kid Ron’s age? This is a horrifying thought. Lyre is a fanatic about her skincare regimen and even tried to get me onto it. Maybe this is why.


    There’s of course the knee-jerk reaction to exin this isn’t like the olddy thinks it is, but the words refuse toe out. Because I’ve been thinking of all four of them as mine, and (as has been made abundantly clear to me), Caine and I are fated mates. So, regardless of what I think, we’re... in a rtionship. Sort of. More or less.


    So, if you <i>really</i> break it down, the olddy isn’t exactly... wrong.


    Beside me, Caine’s low rumble stops abruptly. I nce at him, expecting annoyance or dismissal, already primed to jump in if he says anything particrly cold or cutting.


    Instead, his face has softened, the hard lines of tension easing away. For the first time since the storm hit, he looks... pleased. Almost content. Rxed and <i>weing</i>, which is highly unexpected and strange and what am I supposed to do with this?


    My heart does a peculiar little flip in my chest, and I have no idea what to do with that, either.


    "A house full of pu—children is a happy home," he says, tacitly agreeing with the olddy without even batting an eysh. He smiles at me. A warm, soft curve of his lips, coupled with an affectionate stare. A very <i>I’m your man and we’re a family and you totally had all these kids with me</i> kind of stare.


    Something inside me melts while the other half is still panicked over how old I must look.


    Bun shrieks like she’s dying, right on cue. She’s pissed. Caine’s still got his arm wound around her, and she’s wriggling like a dying fish, desperate to get at the dog.