Page 122 of Sacrifice
He goes straight to Emil, sitting on his foot—his way of offering comfort.
"Traitor," Elfe tells the dog. "You're supposed to be on my side."
"There are no sides," I remind her. "We're family."
"Ugh, you're extra sappy this morning. I need more coffee for this."
But she's smiling.
We've found our rhythm over these months, the three of us.
What started as a temporary arrangement after her attack to keep her from moving back home with her parents has become permanent.
She could afford her own place now—her art's been selling well—but none of us have brought up her moving out.
Between that, and working at Bubba’s, she’s raking in the big bucks.
This works.
Somehow, improbably, this works.
"What's the menu today?" Emil asks, shifting into practical mode.
"Pot roast," I say. "Mom's recipe. Plus Yorkshire pudding, roasted vegetables, and that salad Soren pretends to hate but always eats seconds of."
"I'm making dessert," Elfe adds. "That chocolate tart thing your mom taught me."
"You're all going to make me fat," Emil complains.
"You literally went for a ten-mile run this morning," I point out. "At five AM. Rex told me."
Rex's tail thumps in confirmation.
"Snitch," Emil tells the dog.
The morning passes by in the blink of an eye.
We've done this enough times now that we move around each other easily.
Elfe preps vegetables while I work on the roast.
Emil keeps himself busy—checking cameras, going on a walk with the dogs, checking to make sure everything is in tip top shape.
"Saga, where's the— never mind, found it!" Elfe calls from the pantry.
She emerges with potatoes, then pauses. "Do you think we should set up the dining room differently? Give Soren more space? You know how he sprawls."
"Good thinking. He's probably grown another three inches since Thanksgiving."
We rearrange furniture while the dogs supervise.
Well, Rex and Luna supervise.
Odin's claimed a patch of sunlight and appears to be napping, though his ears track every movement.
"Remember when we first brought them home?" Elfe muses, watching Luna meticulously inspect our furniture placement. "They were so unsure."
"Now they own the place," I agree.
