trashstoriesforthegarbagegang - Tumblr blog

[trashstoriesforthegarbagegang]

The Wild Things of the Galaxy

Guardians of the Galaxy (Vol. 2)  Summary: Groot is overly tired. Gamora and Quill tuck him into bed with traditions from their home worlds. (some unspoken thing / family fic / right after V2 / too much sap on this sad tree to handle really and yep I just watched these movies alright but I fell in love fast and hard and haven’t posted a fic in years quarantine made me do it) Rated: K Word Count: 5,400

“Peter, bed time!”

It’s a memory that’s comfortable to slip into as a familiar melody plays on the Zune — a brief recollection that doesn’t take up too much time, a moment in time that is enough to put a smile on his face…and only slightly pulverize his heart.

“Five more minutes?”

His mother was tired, and it’s not just the end-of-day kind of tired that he grew up knowing. Somewhere in his heart, Peter knew that it’s the treatment which has her more exhausted than normal and when she held in a sigh, for his sake, he regretted asking immediately.

“I mean…” He grabbed the edge of the table where he had been fiddling with Erector Set that his uncle got him for Christmas a month ago that he hasn’t tired of for even a day. “I’ll go to bed. Yeah. Now’s fine.”

Meredith smiled despite her obvious desire to head to bed herself. She ruffled his sandy curls and asks, “What were you working on today?”

He beamed. “Just my cool Star Lord ship! Mama — mom?”  Meredith tilted her chin in a manner that told him to just ask. “Do you want to maybe read a quick book before bed? I mean, I can totally read to myself, I can read,” He emphasized, though truthfully he was behind for his grade and he has been struggling with basic books, but he didn’t want to worry his mother with one more piece of awful news. He’d been tossing the notes from his teacher in the trash and covering them with something gross so she wouldn’t know. “But you’re a better storyteller than me and I thought maybe…”

“Of course there’s time for a book before bed, if that’s what you want,” She responded sweetly. Letting him leave his spacecraft construction for another time, she didn’t even ask him to clean it up, just took his hand. “Do you want to read the next chapter in the book you’re reading at school?”

Due to the notes he’d tossed, she didn’t know he’d been downgraded from How to Eat Fried Worms and had been back to simple basal readers for two weeks. “No, no. I’m thinking something more classic. Something you used to read when I was half the man I was, and had half the strength I have now!”

She lead him to his room, covered from floor to ceiling in posters of all his favorites — Star Wars the most prominent of them. Peter crawled into bed and scooted close to the wall, leaving room for Meredith as she flipped through the old books from when he was younger, the few she’d picked up at yard sales over the years, as they didn’t own a ton of children’s stories. She was more of a library-trip-per-week sort of mom since it was something free to keep Peter busy for an hour; at least she had been that sort of mom before three months ago.

“Okay,” She smirked, holding up a title. She supposed it had been some time since she was last conscious enough to get through a book for him at bedtime, so the giddiness on his features was completely justified. She tried not to let guilt tear her apart.

“Yes, I still love this book even though I’m not a little kid.”

“Well I also still love this book and I’m definitely not a little kid,” Meredith teased him, kissing his nose as she slipped onto the mattress next to her son. He let out a contented sound and curled into her side, squeezing her tightly and nuzzling her arm. Meredith dropped another kiss to the top of his head.

“The night Max wore his wolf suit he made mischief of one kind and another…” Meredith’s familiar cadence washed over Peter and it was hardly long before his eyes droop until he shouted, “Be Still!” When it was time. Meredith rubbed his back, taming him just like a wild thing.

The book ended unceremoniously and it was too short and Peter was not ready for his mother to leave the room. As she told him sweet things and stroked his hair and kissed him three times and said a prayer, he clutched onto her hand, looking up at her with longing brown eyes to plead, “Please don’t go, I’ll eat you up, I love you so.”

Meredith was so tired. But as Peter’s eyes welled with tears of something that was impossible to verbalize for a little boy who was going through too many changes and anxious and a little bit lonely all the time, she laid down beside him, humming a comforting tune for him. “Baby don’t go…pretty baby, please don’t go. I love you so….pretty baby, please don’t go.”

“Mom?” Peter wondered, when he was almost asleep. “Can you put that book in my backpack?”

“Why?” She wondered, not sure that it was an appropriate read for school for a boy his age, no matter how much he loved it.

“That way, the next time we have a long night at the hospital, you can read it to me before grandpa comes?”

Peter jammed his finger on the pause button of the Zune, silencing Sonny and Cher. Maybe it wasn’t a completely easy memory to slip in and out of. He hadn’t heard the song since his mother sang it to him that night and when it came up on shuffle, it had been like a fist to the face.

Peter searched for a new song, relaxed in the comfortable chair in the lounge of what had been the Ravager’s ship that they’d made quick work of cleaning out over the last week since it became their second, much more spacious headquarters. Before he’d had a chance to sort through Thin Lizzy and Alice Cooper to the other random, random tracks that someone had downloaded to the device, Rocket suddenly appeared. He had a practically tantruming Groot following behind him, his little branch-like arms up, eyes squinted, tears on his cheeks and an awful sound that was not his usual coming from the back of his throat. Rocket looked as exasperated as the memory made Peter feel. “You’re it, Quill. I can’t listen to him anymore! He’s been carryin’ on like this for an hour! He don’t wanna play or eat or nothin’! Won’t say what’s wrong. Just hollerin’ like a baby.” He spit the word at Groot, who would usually stubbornly respond ‘I am Groot,’ — I’m not a baby! But their distressed, infantile colleague could just carry on in response.

“Well, he is a baby,” Peter said with a grunt, leaning over as Rocket rolled his eyes — of all of them, he still tried to think of Groot like a friend still, when clearly their little tree was not quite developmentally capable of that yet. “What’s wrong, bud?” Frowning a little at the sight of the toddler tree, Peter bent a hand low to try and comfort him, but Groot just walked up and kicked it pitifully, falling back onto his backside at the force and managing to scream louder.

“Oh, man, little dude! What’s gotten into you?”

He tried again to reach out, but Groot just flipped onto his side, kicking his arms and legs.

Rocket put a paw on his face and shook his head. “I seriously can’t deal anymore tonight. I don’t wanna hurt the twig.”

The second insult still didn’t work and he tossed up in defeat. Peter could sense that Rocket must have been really through with the behavior, given he’d pretty much sacrifice anything at any time for his best friend.  

“I got ‘im,” He said quickly and Rocket mumbled something incoherent about building a sound-proof greenhouse as Gamora, soaked in a layer of sweat in athletic clothes, obviously heard the fuss on her way back from working out in the Ravager gym, stopped in the doorway.

“Hey,” Peter smirked at her, despite the thrashing foliage on the floor. The skin-tight spandex pants she wore revealed her muscular calves and a good portion of her midsection as her top was cropped shorter than usual. Her hair was slicked back in a braid, small sections falling out. “Good workout?”

“Sure,” She mumbled, crouching on the floor to examine Groot. “Rocket just deposited him to you like this?”

“Said he’s been at it for almost an hour, that he tried everything to get him to stop. If Groot doesn’t even want candy?” He emphasized and the screaming didn’t cease, “Something must be up. Maybe he’s getting sick? Can trees get sick?”

“I’m not sure…” Gamora reached out her hand, but didn’t touch Groot. She kept it comfortingly beside him as he sniffed and screeched. “You know what?” She realized, finding another frown, “He didn’t take a nap this afternoon when we were on Berhert looking for our missing parts. He was being too stubborn in his attempts to help. He’s probably just overly tired.”

Peter scowled a little at their own shortsightedness and Groot quieted for just a second as he realized Gamora was in the room. “Hi,” She said sweetly, softly. “Are you ready for bed?”

“I am Groot!” He yelled at first, but it ended in a loud cry.

“I know you’re not a baby,” She replied with gentleness. “But that does not mean you do not require sleep. I know I am particularly tired today.”

“I am Groot?”

“Being strong also is not a disqualifier for needing sleep,” She gave a dramatic yawn for show. “I aught to get cleaned up and go to bed.”

“I am Groot?”

Peter chuckled. “You want to go with her? Buddy, you’ve got your own bed.”

“I am Groot!” He wailed.

Rumpling his brow, Peter wondered, “You sleep with her regularly?”

“Started when we got here…” Gamora shrugged as she tried to keep a blush down. “He says that his bed is too big and he’s scared of getting lost in it and he doesn’t like to be alone so…”

“I’ve said the same thing yet you kick me out of your bunk when I try it.”

“You’re not a baby,” Gamora leered though there was humor in her gaze.

“I am Groot!”

“Of course, of course,” She rolled her eyes. “You’re not a baby, either.” Gamora looked down at her glistening chest and shrugged. “I will let you come to my room if you let me take a shower first. Can you stay with Peter for a little bit?”

“I am Groot,” He whined, flopping over onto his back and glaring at the captain.

Peter winked. “I got ‘im. C’mon, buddy. I’m gonna show you something cool.”

“Just…” Gamora winced. “Do not get him all wound up if we want him to sleep, please?”

“I’ve got something in mind,” Peter agreed, managing to scoop Groot up, who finally stopped fighting him.

Gamora disappeared to get herself showered and Peter got the little tree on his shoulder. “So, when I was tired but didn’t wanna sleep, you know what I used to ask my mom?” Groot shook his head. “Five more minutes?” Peter said in a jumbled, silly kid voice. “I’d say, ‘mom, pretty please with a cherry on top can I have five more minutes? Then, she would take me into my room and do something like read a book or sing for me.”

“I am Groot?”

“No, Gamora is not my mother, dude,” Peter almost chuckled. “I like her a lot and she likes me a lot…we’re…well, it’s complicated. But we’re friends.”

“I am Groot?”

“Well, no, I’ve never asked Gamora for ‘five more minutes,’ because she’s never told me to go to bed before.”

“I am Groot! I am Groot!”

“Well, it is fair, but no, it’s not because you’re a baby. But you know, it’s ‘cause you’re growing. And you gotta eat lots of vegetables and sleep if you want to get big and strong like me.”

“I am Groot.”

“Hey, I am too strong! Mouthy little thing.” Groot let out another distinct whine and flopped back against Peter’s chest, making him chuckle. “Dude. We are so not skipping out on nap time just because you want to be a helper in the future. Anyway,” He switched topics before Groot could argue, “I wanna show you something.”

He walked the little bugger to a storage compartment where he kept the majority of his special… stuff. It didn’t have a lock on it. Despite their general attitudes towards each other and them being a bunch of assholes, he did trust his team. They knew better than to mess with something of one another’s that was sentimental.

The drawer was fireproof, though, just in case someone else tried to mess with his family at large via the ship.

Groot tried to jump into the compartment, but Peter firmed up his grip and tugged out a thirty-some-odd-year-old backpack. “This was mine, when I was a kid. On Earth, where I’m from, you have to go to a place called school whether you like it or not.”

“I am Groot?”

“Nah,” Peter smirked and tickled his chin with his thumb, making Groot squirm. “You’re gettin’ the best schooling in the galaxy right here, pal. But…” He tugged at the zipper with one hand. “I wasn’t really using it for school the last time I had it on. I had to go places a lot, kind of like we do, only I was no hero then…that’s for sure…” He shook his head after a moment of silence. “So I had stuff in here that wasn’t really for school. And this,” He pulled out a very well-worn paperback book, with a monster like something he’d find on a planet probably just four jumps away on the cover. “Was one of my favorite bedtime stories.”

“I am Groot?”

“A bedtime story! It’s…when you don’t really want to go to bed, and you ask your mom for five more minutes, and she doesn’t really want to give them to you, but she does ‘cause she loves you so stinkin’ much, but she still has to be responsible. So she reads you a book instead. Even if you’re too old for that.”

“I am Groot.”

“Well, Gamora could read it to you,” He said, he’d trust her with his special book, however, “I’m right here, though and she’s getting all clean and smellin’ pretty just for you, so how ‘bout I read this to you while we wait.”

“I am Groot?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Yes, you can still ask Gamora for five more minutes when she gets back.”

He pouted shrugged, bringing a little hand to rub his eye. “I am Groot.”

“Great. Glad you’re ready,” Peter held back a chuckle, plopping into a chair and keeping Groot on his chest as he touched the title like his mother always did. “Where the Wild Things Are, story and pictures by Maurice Sendak.”

“I am Groot?”

“Well, if you listen,” Petter squeezed his leg playfully with one hand, “You’ll find out what a Wild Thing is. Ready?”

When Peter turned the first page, he didn’t even get a chance to read before Groot gave a gasp and leaned forward, delicately touching the fluffy tail of Max’s wolf suit in the illustration. “I am Groot!”

“That’s not Rocket,” Peter laughed. “That’s Max!”

“I am Groot?”

“That’s Max!” He tried not to let himself get carried away as he pointed to the face of the boy in the picture. “He’s a little boy. Probably like…six Earth years old. Older than you, but not by much. He’s just as naughty as you.”

“I am Groot?” He pointed to the blanket on a string and Peter sighed.

“He’s making a blanket fort.”

“I am Groot?”

“It’s this, when you take a bunch of blankets and make them into like a cozy place to hide or be alone.”

“I am Groot?”

“Well, he wants to be alone because…actually, you know…” Peter touched the expression on Max’s face. “I don’t think he wants to be alone. I think he just wants his mother’s attention.” He could relate to that a lot. “I think he’s actually lonely. So he’s carrying on like this,” He looked down at Groot with a little frown. “Because he doesn’t know what else to do to get his mother’s attention.” Kicking himself for not realizing why Groot was acting the way he was with Rocket before — and even himself, he gently rubbed the top of Groot’s head with his finger. Gamora would be back before the little bundle of sticks knew it.

“I am Groot.”

“That is sad, huh? You know, maybe I should read it. Let’s find out if Max gets happy, okay?”

Groot nodded and Peter cleared his throat, making sure there was no emotion. “The night Max wore his wolf suit he made mischief of one kind…” He flipped the page, “And another,” Groot gasped, not liking the way that Max was chasing the dog around in the image before him. Peter turned to the next one, “His mother called him ‘wild thing’ and Max said, “I’ll eat you up!’” Groot shook his head as Peter had a flash of Yondu saying the same thing to him and smiled sadly, carrying on, “So Max was sent to bed without eating anything.”

“I am Groot!”

“Max is gonna be hungry, huh. He should have been kinder to his mother.”

“I am Groot,” The little one on his chest looked down.

“Of course we still feed you even when you’re…well, you’re not bad. You just don’t always make good choices, especially when you’re tired or when we’re tired. But this is just a story, remember? Besides, I think you’ll like how it ends.”

Peter managed to read as the forest grew in Max’s room and he sailed over the sea, Groot’s eyes growing wide as he touched Max’s fierce stance on his little ship as he prepared to fight a sea monster.

“And when he came to the place where the wild things are they roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws.”

Groot covered his eyes and Peter quickly turned the page, practically still knowing the book by heart to know what would come next. “Till Max said, “BE STILL!” and tamed them with a magic trick of staring into all their yellow eyes without blinking once and they were frightened and called him the most wild thing of all.”

Peeking with another started sound, Groot stood up on Peter’s chest and shouted, “I am Groot!” holding his little hands up in the same way that Max did in the book.

“Are you going to be the most wild thing of all?” Peter asked with a little chuckle.

“I certainly hope not,” Called a gentle voice from the hall. Gamora had reappeared, squeaky clean in just minutes. Her hair was still wet and all tied up on the top of her head to be dealt with later. A pair of comfortable pants for sleeping was low on her hips, revealing gorgeous green skin. Peter swallowed hard.

“‘Xpected you to take a little longer.”

She leaned forward, her oversized shirt from some awful junk market they’d been too revealing too much with nothing underneath it (probably intentionally, Peter thought), “Well I knew I had a very over-tired somebody waiting on me, so I just wanted to wash the sweat off. “Are you ready, little wild thing?”

“I am Groot!?” He asked in a panicked tone, pulling his hands together under his chin and looking between her, the book, Peter, and back at the book.

“Five more minutes?” She chuckled. “Oh, you’re in the middle of reading,” Gamora said with a amusement in her voice.

“I am Groot,” He glanced up at Peter.

“Start over?”

“I am Groot!” Groot pointed to Gamora.

“That’s okay,  I have no need to start from the beginning,” She tried to start but Groot pouted hard and crossed his arms.

Peter winked at her, mouthing, “It’s short.”

At least, he assumed it would be, until he flipped back to the beginning and Gamora touched the same spot that Groot initially had saying, “It is a tail like Rocket’s!”

“It’s a wolf’s tail, a raccoon tail has stripes — like Rocket’s.” He said with an exasperated sigh the same time that Groot agreed with her, “I am Groot!”

Continuing to read, Gamora sat on her knees beside him, genuinely interested in the Earth bedtime ritual that involved reading of stories for children. There were no such works for children on Zen-Whoberi. Books anywhere in the Galaxy (outside of Earth, apparently) were honestly rare to come by, let alone with pictures meant for little kids.

“No wild rumpus,” Gamora whispered as Groot made a move like he was going to jump up and participate in his own halfway through the book (again).

“At least not before bed. Maybe tomorrow morning. You can boss Rocket around and tell him you’re his king.”

“I am Groot!” He approved of the plan.

Peter kept going, “…and Max, the king of all wild things was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all.”

“I am Groot,” The littlest of the guardians sympathized, looking up at Gamora, who tried to hide her sympathy but didn’t do so well.

“Yes, that is why I let you stay beside me when you ask. It is hard to feel lonely.” She looked up at Peter with the smallest smile and shrugged. “But it is nice to have friends who can help you not to feel so alone.”

“I am Groot!”

“Hey,” Both Peter and Gamora corrected him at the same time. His best friends were the Guardians of the, “Freakin’ Galaxy.”

They read on as Max gave up his position in the forest, and the wild things told him, “Please don’t go, we’ll eat you up, we love you so!”

Gamora found that to be exceptionally cute as she looked at Groot, leaning back against Peter again, his eyelids so, so heavy as he struggled to stay awake for the end of the book.

As Max sailed in and out of weeks, Gamora observed Peter’s cadence getting a little slower as it came to an anticlimactic close. She imagined his mother must have read the book to him in much the same way when he was little.

“I am Groot!” Groot made a contented, happy sound almost like a giggle when he learned that Max had supper waiting for him in his room.

“…And it was still hot.”

“That is an excellent Earth legend, Peter,” Gamora said sincerely as he shut the book. He smirked as she used such high praise for a simple kid’s story. “Was this Maurice Sendak a philosopher of yours? Did he see the tale in a vision?”

Recalling several of the other oddly illustrated books by the guy that his mother had checked out of the library for him, Peter was quite sure, “Oh he was getting visions, though I don’t know they were celestial. More acid induced, probably. It was the sixties. Times were different.”

She didn’t know what that meant but accepted his answer seriously, as she usually did when he described anything about Earth. Groot had his eyes closed as he laid back Peter’s chest and Gamora smirked, nodding him towards the quarters she’s been sharing with Mantis since they arrived. “He could probably go in his own bed, if he’s already asleep?”

Gamora shrugged, voicing on his behalf, “I don’t want him to wake up feeling lonely.”

Nodding, Peter swiped his Zune and stuffed it in his pocket, carefully balancing Groot to stay in his sleepy position as they shuffled quietly down the hallway.

Gamora opened the door and gestured to the bed on the left, which had a little metal tool box on the nightstand beside it, with a red… “Is that my scarf?”

She shrugged. “He needed it more than you do. A regular blanket was too big,” She patted it and Peter tried to move with extreme caution, desperately hoping to keep the little guy asleep, but the movement was just enough to cause Groot to shoot up and cry, reaching up for Gamora. “Okay, okay.”

“I am Groot!”

“You have your own bedtime ‘ritual?’” Peter smirked, stuffing a hand in his pocket.

“I am Groot?”

“Sing?” He all-out smiled and took a seat on the edge of Gamora’s bed, making it obvious he wasn’t going anywhere for that. If she got to hear him read a bedtime story, he was going to hear her lullaby… “I’m just kidding, I can go,” He said when he watched her face go through a whole process.

“Um,” She was flushed as she held Groot on her shoulder and he cuddled into her. “I…it’s…”

“Seriously, I’m teasing —” He stood and was met with her other hand on his chest like a slap as she tried to let herself be vulnerable.

“You shared an important tradition from your home, so, I can share one, too.” She patted Groot’s back and took in a deep breath before sitting on the mattress with a little hum. “I, there’s…not many things I remember about home. I was so young and Thanos…he really manipulated most of my thoughts to make me forget. But, I…I never forgot the song my mother always used to sing before I went to sleep. In my cell in the Sanctuary, I could not sing it out loud. I would have been punished for that…but I would think it every night, so that no matter how much he tried to brainwash me, strip me of all the things important to me, I could never forget my mother’s song.”

Peter held his breath as Gamora hummed again, finding the tune. In a small, sweet voice she sang her people’s traditional lullaby for Groot, and him. There was such honor and privilege he felt to receive such a performance. “Foar tiid om te sliepen is it myn bern en de wyn groeit rêstich, en de loft is tsjuster, it is tiid, it is tiid. Ik sil jo hearre foar as jo rêstje, oant slûch jo forteart. Mar dan moatte jo allinich ôfdriuwe, mar noait echt allinich. Ik bin hjir, ik bin hjir, ik bin hjir.”

By the end, Groot was fully asleep again. Carefully, Gamora tucked him into Peter’s scarf in the little makeshift bed. Stroking his cheek, she smiled down at him then looked at Peter with a gaze that expressed a little bit of embarrassment, but mostly gratitude.

“That was beautiful,” He said with such genuine beam at her, it made her further blush. “What does it mean?”

“I…I’m not sure,” She responded with a longing sound from the back of her throat which meant she was suppressing a lump of emotion. “I do not remember our language. Just the song.”

“Gamora,” He frowned, opening his arm up. She let him hug her from the side. “It’s still beautiful. And I think it’s really sweet that you’re sharing it with Groot before he sleeps.”

Biting back a comment about how it would likely be the only time she ever got to share her mother’s song with a baby she was raising, Gamora added, “I really liked your story. How did you manage to keep it and your walking man and your orange-haired talisman all these years?”

Choking back a smile with how she referred to his stupid troll and broken music player, Peter explained how the book, among the other few possessions from 1988 had been in his transition bag from school to grandpa’s to hospital and that had been all he’d had on him when he was abducted.

“My mother also used to sing to me before bed.” He smirked, pulling out his Zune. “I didn’t hear this song since I left earth and it hit me like a ton of damn bricks earlier when it came up on shuffle.”

Offering her one of the earbuds, he clicked play and restarted the song. They got most of the way through it until Peter bit the inside of his cheek to keep from replicating the lyrics himself. “When I get to the city, my tears will all be dry. My eyes will look so pretty, no one's gonna know I cried.”

Gamora looked at the little album cover on the screen as the song started to fade. “Your mother, did she know Sonny and Cher?”

“She didn’t know them personally, but she admired the heck out of Cher. Sonny, well, poor guy. They’re basically like you and I, Sonny and Cher. Sonny was this guy with an annoying voice and bad haircut, and Cher was basically a goddess, but she saw something in him anyway and they were a great team.”

Gamora found a little grin at that. “I am hardly befitting of a goddess. I am physically more capable of you. But I do not believe you have a bad haircut, nor is your voice annoying. Just off-pitch.” He took his turn to let his cheeks flush through a chuckle. “Why did your mother pick their song as her lullaby if she did not know them personally? What was the meaning of it, then? Who sang the song to your mother, to pass down to you?”

“Oh,” He shrugged his shoulder. “That isn’t like, a traditional lullaby. I don’t think I know any of those. My mam—mother, she just liked to sing. Any song that came into her mind, so like, a different song every night. I can’t remember them all. But when this song came on, I remembered it very, very distinctly like a memory sucking me back in time.”

“Do you know of any traditional Earth lullabies we can sing to Groot?” She wondered with such an innocence about her, he was fairly sure she just wanted to hear him sing one for himself.

“I…” He thought back thirty years and shrugged. “I’m sure there was but they weren’t…just weren’t really important to me. I mean, there was a song they used to play on Sesame Street a lot that I’m pretty sure it was a lullaby.”

“Where is Sesame Street?”

“It’s where the air is clear,” He said in a joke that only he understood. “Sesame Street was a TV show, for children.”

“People of Earth value their children most dearly,” She said with her brow furrowed. “They make them telly-vision shows, movies, even books!” Peter shrugged, hiding another amused noise at her concept of ‘telly-vision.’ “What is the lullaby from this show?”

“Ernie, he was a muppet,” He paused, explaining, “That’s a puppet, which is like a plush animal, where a human controls it’s mouth and makes it look like it’s talking.” Gamora gave him a very confused expression but did not ask a clarifying question. “Ernie sang this song about the moon, and…good god, now that I’m thinking of it I think it might’ve been a warning for me,” He chuckled, trying to remember all of the words. “It went something like…Oh I’d like to visit the moon…but I don’t think I’d like to live there.”

“Well that is fortunate,” She said fighting her own smile. “You are well past the Earth’s moon out here.”

“Yeah,” He wound his arm around her again — he really had it in for the alien girl who was raising a talking stick with him (what a bedtime story that was). “You know, there’s another bedtime tradition on Earth that I could teach you about.”

“Hm?” She blinked up at him curiously finding a shit-eating grin stretched between his cheeks.

“A goodnight kiss.”

Gamora shoved off his chest playfully, responding, “Well, go ahead and give Groot a kiss goodnight before you leave.” She took her still-damp hair out of it’s bun and carefully reached into her nightstand drawer, taking out a brush and a tie. Peter extended a hand out and Gamora raised her brow.

“Are you going to tell me that hair brushing is also a bedtime custom on your planet?” She asked sarcastically.

“Nah,” He shrugged, taking the brush and starting to gently detangle her locks. “But we could make it a custom here.”

Flushing so her roots were pink like her ends, she let Peter brush her hair out with a surprisingly gentle hand. Gamora starved off a yawn. It was early, for the adults of the crew, but she supposed there was nothing wrong with succumbing to a very comfortable bedtime routine.

[trashstoriesforthegarbagegang]

The Best Version of Claire

Jurassic World (Fallen Kingdom) Summary: She’d found it had been easier to say, ‘I love you,’ then give what they had a label. For eight months, Claire had accepted a parental role without acknowledging it — and like anything else, she excelled at it. But when Claire realized that she’d been thinking of Maisie like a daughter, it was time for a heavy conversation. Rated: K+ Word Count: 11,000+

Claire distinctly recalled what it felt like to be ten years old. She’d never been a typical girl — Claire had always been ardent for a chance to be on top and prove herself. Whether it was winning the Jump Rope for Heart competition in elementary school, securing the top sales in her Girl Scout troop three years in a row, or being captain of her high school volleyball team, she had always been more determined than other girls her age. She had perfect grades, coveted likability among adults in her life, and a knack of charming just about anyone into getting anything she wanted (with the stern exception of her mother and sister).

Where had that zealous attitude gotten her?

Not a wasted childhood — but certainly a lost young adulthood as she spent years chasing vague aspirations rather than dreams. She had a singular goal of advocacy when she started her journey at eighteen, but it had been quickly lost in the shuffle of success. She was fairly sure that her childhood yearn for an advantage had left her with a nearly crippling, anxiety-fueled meltdown at thirty, a breakup that had led to a wicked episode of depression at thirty-two, and running a non-profit organization with a mission to save dinosaurs at thirty-three. The full circle of remembering who she wanted to be had taken almost thirteen years to complete. Had she not always had a yearning to be the absolute best, had someone told her it was okay to just be who she was; that she didn’t need to prove something to the entire world — perhaps she’d have been on more stable ground.

Somewhere along the way, Claire had left herself. She’d put her body on autopilot and let blind ambition steer her. When she had no choice but to get back in the driver’s seat, she’d crashed brilliantly.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

As she looked in the rearview mirror at a ten-year-old who’s experiences in life had been completely opposite of her own to the point where she was sitting in her very real backseat, Claire let out a shudder of a breath. With everything in her, she hoped that what she was bringing to Maisie’s life was nothing like the collision she’d caused in her own. Even though Maisie wasn’t hers, Claire was determined to make sure Maisie didn’t repeat her mistakes. Claire wasn’t anybody’s mother, but she was doing her best to take care of the little girl who’d come into her life, perhaps exactly when she needed her.

Maisie caught her eye in the mirror after climbing into the car with a spunky greeting and smiled that sweet — just-flushed peachy grin that Claire had fallen in love with over the last eight months.

“So are we going to the cabin this weekend?” The little girl asked excitedly in her best non-English accent — something she’d been working on extensively since she decided to knit together something that looked like an American family. She buckled herself in and kept eye-contact with Claire as she prepared to pull away from the curb in the school pick-up line.

A normal school experience had been something that Claire had been completely adamant about from the get-go with Maisie. Though she wasn’t going to just drop the little fish who’d never swam outside of her tiny ten-gallon tank into a sea of sharks in the middle of the year when they’d met, she did insist that come the fall, Maisie start attending school. Though she’d been nervous almost to the point of being sick at first, the ten-year-old looked too cute in her uniform; a little blue jumper that had the school’s evergreen logo embroidered on the chest with a white, short-sleeved button-up top underneath. Her hair had been pulled up into ponytail with a too-big white bow. It looked adorably ridiculous (the ridiculous amount of hours of YouTube that Maisie watched on Claire’s phone while they finished construction that summer had helped her speak more like the people taking care of her) but Claire was determined to help Maisie fit in with her peers, even if it meant listening to the too-loud vlogs of a bubbly blonde teen on the internet with oversized hair bows. In a few short weeks, with lots of encouragement and nightly debriefing from Claire, Maisie had settled in fine and was enjoying her first time in school.

“Do you have a lot of homework?” Claire questioned back as they started on the route to the apartment they were sharing the majority of the time.

“I’m ahead on my math work already — I finished the online part in class and scored perfectly. All I have is some reading. But I can read it at the cabin—  and I don’t even have to quiz on a book for another two weeks anyway, I’m beyond where I need to be.”

None of it surprised Claire. Having no formal record, Maisie wasn’t even enrolled in an online homeschool program and Claire hadn’t found any formal curriculum in the manor. Having met up with Iris after she’d been dark for nearly a month with the misfit child and no direction, the former nanny’s account was that Lockwood taught Maisie whatever he felt she needed to know and was interested in most of the time. It’d been more than enough, as her entrance scores in the private school they’d selected were off the charts (after a lifetime locked up, and even after six months out, Claire didn’t think she’d take too well to the public school system right away). Maisie qualified to advance to middle school or an honor’s program, but Claire insisted she be put in a regular fifth grade classroom with an experienced teacher who could help her excel academically. It was more the social graces that Claire hoped she’d learn that year than any new book smarts.

“Owen probably already has a fire lit,” Claire said with a smile and Maisie gave a little cheer in the backseat. “We’ll stop at home to change and head up to the mountains right after.”

Home was less than ten minutes away as they chatted about what they were going to do that weekend. Maisie practically bounced out of the car and to the elevator of the parking garage, vibrating with excitement as she swung Claire’s hand back and forth. The redhead wrapped the little arm around her waist, then hugged Maisie to her, bending down to kiss the top of her head, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m excited to spend a few days in the woods with you.”

As the metal doors dinged and swooshed open, Maisie hopped in, giving Claire a fuller embrace from the front, her caretaker’s arms resting on top of her backpack. “I love you,” Maisie mumbled and Claire felt her stomach drop just a little — hoping to convince herself it was from the elevator, not Maisie’s declaration that still made her weak sometimes.

“I love you, too,” Claire reminded her back, scooting to crouch at the knees for a better hold.

When they arrived at the eighth floor, Maisie charged forward, energy needing to be spent after a full week in school. She wiggled outside of the apartment, humming to herself and moving from toe to toe as Claire turned the lock. Maisie hung up her school backpack on the hook, taking out her borrowed library book to tuck in her weekend bag, then tore with stocking-clad feet down the hall to switch her outfit. Claire smiled and rinsed out the girl’s lunchbox containers and stuck them in the dishwasher, turning it on to run while they were gone.

Maisie appeared in Claire’s room a few minutes later in a pair of light-wash jeans and a turquoise t-shirt that had a silver foil message which, on the particular young girl, was a lot deeper than the tween store had intended for it to be: UNICORNS KEEP IT REAL LIKE ME. She’d swapped out her bow to match the silver, had her tie-dye weekend backpack strap in her fist and a pair of blue high-tops laced sloppily. “Ready!”

Claire had only just taken off her heels and slipped on a t-shirt with the DPG logo on it. “Go get a sweatshirt, it’ll be colder further north by the time we get there.”

She dropped her bag and scampered back to her room, returning as Claire stepped into black boots and slid a belt around her waist. Thankfully, having anticipated the trip, she’d packed a small bag the night before so that Maisie wouldn’t leap from her skin in excitement while waiting for her to be ready. She tugged a red and black checkered flannel on, leaving it unbuttoned, and twisted her hair high into a bun, securing it with a few pins from the vanity. Claire turned to find Maisie with her zip-up and tablet, stuffing it into her bag where she could see a stuffed animal peaking out as well. The girl had more than enough already up at the cabin, but Claire would never deny her an additional dose of comfort. “Do you want anything to eat before we go?”

“Nope! I’m ready for adventure!” Claire sat on the edge of her bed for a moment with a smirk while Maisie laughed and fell forward against her. Hugging her tightly again, Claire rubbed her back. Maisie climbed up higher for a more proper cuddle, linking her arms around Claire’s neck. “Do you have a lot of work to do this weekend?”

“There’s things I could do but probably won’t,” She gave Maisie’s knee a squeeze. “I’m not even bringing my laptop. I want to spend the weekend with you.”

“And Owen,” The little girl clarified, trying not to burst in excitement.

“Well that’s a given,” Claire teased, “Someone has to make sure we don’t starve.”

Fully trapped in the giggles, Maisie’s eyes crinkled bright, “You’re getting better! Honest! My lunch was great today!”

“It was a salad,” Claire winced, laughing at herself. “And fruit.”

“Well, you know your way around a knife, then,” Maisie clarified and Claire chuckled harder, taking her hand.

“Would you like to stop really quick for a smoothie on the way to adventure?” She wondered, wanting a coffee for herself.

“I suppose every scout needs nourishment!” The ten-year-old twirled off her lap and lifted backpack in the same maneuver.

Standing and still unable to wipe the smile off her face, Claire picked up her duffle bag and followed Maisie to the entryway, where she was dancing to some imaginary music. The girl was so full of life and in the last eight months since living with them, had completely come out of her tragically anxious, attempt-at-composed shell — letting light into her own life along with Claire and Owen’s. She never seemed to stop moving once she realized there was no one uptight to keep her standing with perfect posture and only being allowed to speak when spoken to.

Claire collected her wallet and keys, locking up the apartment while Maisie hummed outside of the elevator doors.

After pulling out of a drive through a few minutes later, Claire felt like she could drive for an hour and a half hour with her large coffee for physical (and emotional) support while Maisie tackled a strawberry smoothie behind her. Passing her phone back she asked, “Can you DJ for me?”

“Of course! Do you want me to tell Owen that we’re on the way?”

Smirking, Claire explained, “He doesn’t completely know we’re coming.”

“Ah!” Maisie brought her hands to her cheeks in fists, “I love surprises!”

“I know you do,” Claire felt like her face was going to practically split in half from smiling so much. Her music mistero pulled up a Spotify playlist and started to bop her head, singing along quietly to overproduced, teenybopper pop music while they zipped out of the city and up the mountainside. Letting her gaze occasionally flicker from the road to the sight of Maisie in the back seat, Claire swallowed unexpected emotion in her throat. She truly loved the girl more than she ever could have imagined loving someone else.

It was still light out for another hour and then some when they pulled up the dirt path that lead to the cabin just before five o’clock. At the sound of crunching gravel, Owen appeared from behind the finished (and extended from the original plans) cabin, wiping his hands on a rag with a smile so big it just about finished tearing Claire into two pieces. She didn’t chastise Maisie as she probably should have for not waiting until the car was fully stopped before opening the door and running out.

They hadn’t seen Owen since the Sunday night before when the two had left their property. Just after Maisie had started school in late August, he’d gotten an unexpected job from the Navy Reserves. He could’ve fought the decision, but Claire helped him decide to accept — he wasn’t being positioned overseas or heading into combat, and it was work that he loved. Though it meant that he’d be away from Maisie and herself during the week until likely the spring, they were making it work. After a full summer together at the cabin, with Claire only gone a few days a week, managing the rest of her work from the little office area he’d set up for her in the living space, some time apart was probably best for them given their history. Everything happened so fast from the spring on, and while neither of them were complaining, their past relationship made both of them nervous of what to expect from the future.

He had Maisie swept off her feet by the time Claire stepped out of the car. Her scrawny legs were wrapped around his waist and arms snug around his neck. He hugged her tightly, whispering something in her ear which made her nod and give a secret back. His eyes met Claire’s across the way and she could only look on with absolute, full fondness. Taking Maisie’s backpack and her own bag, she ambled up to the front of the cabin. He shifted Maisie over to his hip, not willing to let her go yet. Tugging Claire to his other side, he kissed her mouth hard. “I’d say I’m surprised to see you, but once you went dark around noon I kinda figured out what you were up to. Not that I’m not glad. I’m happy you’re here.”

Maisie observed, “There’s no howling!”

Owen gave her a wide-eyed look, “There better not be! Otherwise everything I did this week was useless. You wanna see ‘em?”

“Yes!” She chirped, scrambling down, running inside to change into her cabin boots.

While she was distracted, Owen took the time to bring Claire properly close to him. She gave a little look, something between disapproving and a pout, which he found a guilty look for. “I’m sorry — I was an ass last night. You were just trying to make plans. I didn’t mean to snap.”

Knowing how much progress he’d made since the last time they were together, how much more he understood her — Claire nodded. “I forgive you.” She kissed him sweetly. “And I could have been a little more patient. I know — they’re not raptors, but they’re still not easy. I need to remember that they are your priority —”

“Hey,” Owen shook his head. “Not true. You, Mais — you’re my priority. They are my job. But my job involves living things that I’m directly responsible for, so — unfortunately, my priorities are gonna get mixed sometimes. But I shouldn’t snap off like I did on the phone last night. Thank you for not yelling back with the kid in the house.”

Nodding, Claire hugged him, resting her forehead against his neck for a moment before Maisie came jumping out in a pair of hiking boots and a beaming smile. “Ready!”

“C’mere,” Owen reached his arms open and his girl ran right back into them. “I missed you, kid.”

“I missed you, too. Can we lay out and look at the stars tonight?”

He pressed her tighter to him at that. “We can do whatever you want.” He turned her around, swiping her hand into his while Claire took her bag and Maisie’s inside, getting settled.

The cabin was cozy. Three years prior, in what she thought was the prime of her life, Claire never could have imagined she’d have been happy in such a place. The simplicity and seclusion she wouldn’t have thought could bring her peace. She stepped into the front room which put her so at ease — with wooden floors that lead to a fireplace which Owen had fashioned himself, just like the rest of the small home — dark slate with a wooden mantel above it. On top was a picture in a frame that she’d brought last time; Maisie’s first school picture. Beside it was one of the three of them that Karen had snapped candidly when she’d come to visit with Gray over the summer; they were at the lake hardly half a mile from the cabin, Maisie laughing between her guardians, who were smiling down at her while their bare feet dangled over the edge of the dock. The next photo was one Maisie had taken of just Owen and Claire next to the fire one night when they thought she was engrossed in YouTube videos on Claire’s phone — not playing with the camera. It was a sweet kiss and a perfectly lit picture by the fire pit and Claire treasured it. Finally, there was the whole family at a restaurant in San Diego, with a lanky Zach behind Owen and Gray hanging from his side, while Karen and Claire were snuggled up with Maisie in a booth.

Had someone told her that coming home to a cabin full of pictures of her family; Claire might’ve called them delusional years prior. But as she set her bags on the ultra comfortable, used pull-out couch they’d bought on Craigslist, she couldn’t have been prouder of her life.

A shelf was on one side of the fireplace, filled with Owen’s collection of action DVDs and old Call of Duty games for the Xbox 360 he had plugged into the modest-sized TV in the opposite corner. Claire’s little work desk was behind a rocker, cleared of any outstanding assignments and she was pleased to not be dumping anything new onto it. Before moving any further, she took an empty beer bottle off the end table which Owen had likely left behind the night before.

Beyond the living area was a small kitchen, where she noted three corn cobs were ready to be placed in a pot and the microwave on the slim counter space was showing that the chicken he’d defrosted before they got there was ready to be cooked. Smirking at his anticipation of their arrival, she tossed the bottle in the recycling under the sink. Though she wouldn’t dare take over the dinner herself, she could safely start boiling water. All the appliances had come from an estate sale at another cabin up the road a few miles and though they were used, nothing was outdated; which made her feel better about spending half her time in the woods.

Owen had also handmade the table in the kitchen, from a tree they’d had to cut down on the property after a storm in early summer. Running her fingers over it, Claire had a flashback of Owen’s shirtless display while sanding it down and Maisie’s blue popsicle-stained lips as she watched in a bathing suit after they’d spent a few hours swimming in the lake. Already they’d made so many incredible memories in their small space. She could hardly wait to see what the fall weekend was going to bring them.

Hearing a team of barking followed by a loud, “I don’t think so,” Claire looked out the wide, open kitchen window to see Maisie trying to restrain her joy from four German Shepherd pups, whom Claire swore had doubled in size during the five days she’d been away from them. She was standing still and Owen was ordering the dogs to contain their own excitement. They were trying their best to sit and stay before he allowed them to rush the ten-year-old, but their wiggly-overly-excited, four-month-old selves were struggling.

Claire wandered through the house, past the single bathroom and to the small room she shared with Owen. Clicking her tongue, she picked up five days worth of sleep shirts that were next to the laundry basket and placed them inside the hamper. Shuffling a few other misplaced items away, she stepped into the mud room which also had a washer and dryer, taking out clean sheets from the linen cabinet inside.

Climbing the stairs to the loft which doubled as Maisie’s wide open room, with a full-size bed on risers, she pulled the used blankets off and switched them out, tugging the heavy quilt back up to a clean bed. The shelf in the room had a few baskets of Legos and one full to the brim of Shopkins and Hatchimals and whatever other such plastic, surprise weirdness Maisie liked to pick at the checkout every time they went to a store. Another held coloring books with intricate designs and patterns and more hues of colored pencils than anyone had ever known existed. A huge collection of books Maisie had devoured over the summer was on the bottom, and on the top shelf, just as in her bedroom in the apartment, was a photo of little Maisie and her grandfather beside a lamp that cast stars over the ceiling at night. A dresser held her cabin clothes and a little bench that looked out the upstairs window to the forest behind the house was full of big-eyed stuffed animals and extra blankets.

Claire returned to the others after tossing the sheets from her bed into washer as well, finding them in the fenced-in training pen that Owen had tossed together using chicken wire and wooden posts. To the side stood what was going to be a toolshed, which had been turned into a kennel and supply storage for the four dogs he’d been charged to train for a project that was too secret for Claire to know about. She only knew that Owen wasn’t crazy about what was likely going to be the final outcome, which made her think that his dogs were likely going to end up in combat, not just on some search and seizure mission as she’d originally figured would be the case.

Maisie had a lap full of dogs and sounded like a laugh track on repeat as she accepted more than her fair share of kisses and wet noses in her face. Owen had one dog half covering his own legs as he sat beside her, the dog that was his beta. Of the four female dogs, Dolly was his buddy and the one who kept the rest of the pack in line.

Opening the little gate and welcoming herself in, Claire was almost accosted by the three who had been kissing Maisie half to death, but one sharp whistle from Owen got them to heel. They had their ears back, waiting, whimpering in anticipation of being able to greet their new visitor. Claire held back her laughter as she rounded them and sat by Owen, greeting Dolly first, rubbing her neck while the other three were shaking in jealousy. When she looked up at them and Owen gave an, “Alright — gentle!” They walked slowly up to her, tails wagging, noses sniffing intensely as they pawed a little at her legs and forced their snouts under her hands for pets.

“You girls learn a lot in a week, huh?” She rubbed under one’s chin, “Hi, Cash.”

“We made more progress this week than we probably have in a month, huh, Brooks?” Owen asked as the dog sat patiently in front of him. “Emmy’s the only one really still in the doghouse. But even she’s catching up. That’s why I wasn’t a hundred percent sure last night, but we’re alright.” The dog in question had returned to aggressively licking Maisie, making the girl fall back. “Hey! You knock that off,” Owen insisted and Emmy bounced back as he made a clicking sound. She sat at attention — all four dogs did. “Yeah, you better sit. It’s almost dinnertime. Speaking of — you girls hungry?” He asked Claire and Maisie, who shrugged, holding herself back from petting the dogs when they were given a command. Owen released them with a gesture and Cash and Brooks went bouncing through the yard while Emmy waited for more pets and Dolly stayed loyal to his side. “I was gonna put some chicken on the grill, if that’s okay?”

“That sounds great,” Maisie beamed.

“Yeah, I better put some meat on your bones,” Owen teased, reaching for her chin, tilting her head sideways. “Jeeze, you’re positively starved. Poor thing.”

Claire swatted his shoulder playfully and Maisie explained, “We’re learning how to cook together! We watch tutorials and follow the steps, it’s really easy and it’s fun.”

“Easy don’t make it edible,” Owen warned. Claire play-pouted and he kissed her lips. “But I love that you’re trying.”

“I can’t morally feed my daughter a frozen TV dinner every night. And I realized if I’m not willing to feed a child some flash-frozen, high-sodium garbage, I shouldn’t be eating it either.” She missed the look on Owen’s face when she casually dropped the word daughter — but didn’t miss Maisie jumping into her lap with a huge embrace. “Woah, Maisie.” She laughed, “I didn’t realize not eating frozen food was so exciting to you.”

Owen shook his head, the sweetest, softest expression she’d ever seen grace his features nearly took her breath away. “What?”

When she still didn’t understand the fuss, he merely flipped to being crouched on his knees and kissed her temple long as Maisie stayed tucked into her hold. Confused, but not complaining, Claire accepted their love before Owen gently pried an unexpectedly overwhelmed Maisie out of her arms and into his own. “So — dinner?” Claire tried to move on. Maisie wasn’t quite ready. Owen rubbed her back and Claire sighed. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“I’m just glad we’re here,” She managed to down-play, looking up with twinkling eyes and a red-tipped nose. “And I really love you.”

“I love you, too,” Claire reminded her before standing up and reaching a hand down to pull her to her feet. Owen stood behind them, calling all four dogs to sit and stay as he followed them out of the yard, closing the fence and dropping a few ropes and frisbees from a bucket into the pen before announcing, “Playtime.”

The four went off, chasing one another around the yard while Owen chuckled and asked Maisie if she could fill up their water dish from the hose while he lit the grill. After washing her hands and plopping the corn into the boiling water, Claire brought out the chicken for Owen to start grilling and watched as Maisie carried the large water bowls over for the pups.

“Was it something I said?” She whispered with a brow raised.

Owen merely smiled and promised her, “I’ll explain later,” As he kissed above her ear. She looked annoyed and he touched his forehead to hers for just a second. “When she’s asleep.”

Understanding that it was a conversation just for them, Claire sighed and folded her arms. “You’re better at this than I am.”

“Grilling? Shit, yeah I am.” He tried to tease. Claire shot him a look and he shook his head. “Not better by a long stretch, Claire. It’s not a competition. It’s a team effort. You’re the MVP of this season, though — since I’m benched five days a week with these damn hooligans,” He tossed a thumb back to where the dogs were wrestling in a mad pile of puppies with a wicked case of the zoomies. After letting the fire wild up in his face for a moment and making him laugh while Claire popped a hip out in her never-ending quest to glare him into submission, Owen turned the knob and took the container of his marinated chicken. He didn’t even look up to give her the satisfaction of seeing her pout at all. Quietly, he explained, “She’s excited we’re all together after a few days apart and a full week of school.”

“That’s not what just happened,” Claire really wanted to sort it out right then, but Owen was just as stubborn as she was. “And it frustrates me that you see what it is right away while I’m clearly missing something. You’ve got this secret skill set that I’m missing and it —”

After tossing the chicken on and closing the lid to the grill, Owen out the pair of tongs down and curled his fingers into the belt loops on the side of her jeans, pulling her waist closer to him. She kept her arms crossed and a wave of irritation washed over her. “Hey,” He found a little smile, trying to use it to put her at ease. “You are very skilled at this. I promise. You’re doing amazing. And I’m really proud of you.”

At that the edges of her glare softened until she was looking at him normally. With a breath out her nose, Claire leaned forward and dropped her arms so that her fingers laced in his. “We will talk about it later?”

“You said it best — we can’t let stuff hang between us if this is all gonna work.” He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her hands. “We’ll discuss everything tonight.”

They worked together to finish dinner preparations and were sitting around the table twenty-some minutes later. Maisie was perched in the head chair, digging into her corn like a barbarian as Iris might’ve once said, not slicing it all off the cob with a knife first. She grinned as she thought about how much her life had changed in eight months.

“How was school this week?” Owen wondered, hating that he didn't get to ask her that question every night at dinner.

“We’re going to be writing essays next week,” Maisie said as she speared a piece of squash. “We got to vote on topics and mine won in a landslide.”

“And what are fifth graders at Pine Ridge Academy going to be writing about?”

Maisie flushed and announced, “Dinosaurs.”

Claire beamed a little. “That will be fun! Maybe you can convince your friends to send them our way when you reach the publishing stage and we’ll share them on the DPG website.”

“Yes!” Maisie’s eyes lit up. “Our art teacher said that she’d help us with illustrations, too!” She excitedly talked about school for another few minutes before Owen wondered about some other details of her academic life.

“How’re the other kids?”

Maisie shrugged. “There’s no bullies or mean girls or anyone like that in my class.”

“Are there nice girls?” Owen asked. She nodded. Hoping she was being honest, Owen probed a little further, wanting the girl to have friends her own age. “Who do you like to get partnered up with?”

“Avery,” Maisie answered quickly, which made him feel better, that she didn’t merely not have enemies at school, but was hopefully making some friends. “We always have lunch together and we usually spend all of recess on the swings. She loves space and wants to be an aerospace engineer.”

“She seems very sweet,” Claire agreed, glancing up at Owen. “There was a science night at the school this week — Avery was there with her mom. She gave me her phone number in case the girls want to hang out together outside of school some time.”

At that, Maisie flushed and stared down at her plate. She wasn’t so sure about that. Both adults caught the expression and could feel how much she didn’t want to explain herself, but Owen couldn’t help asking, “Is that a bad thing, kiddo?”

“No,” She said defensively and brought her hands up a little bit to cover part of her face. “But I want to see you on the weekends.”

Though she was pretty sure that was only part of it, Claire explained, “Weekends aren’t the only time you can be with a friend, honey. You’re welcome to have Avery come hang out after school — or to go over to her house.”

There was a pause and Maisie’s face stayed red while she distracted herself with a bite and mumbled, “Okay.”

Wanting to return to that thought later, adding it to her growing list of things to discuss with Owen without the girl listening, Claire switched topics. “I heard back from Karen this afternoon — she was able to get the week off, so she’ll be coming here with Gray for Christmas.” Maisie perked back up at that — Gray and she had become instant buddies from the moment they met. “Zach wants to work all of his break, so he’ll be staying with Scott for the holiday, but she’s very excited to spend Christmas with us.”

“Are we going to have a tree?” The ten-year-old begged to know, her eyes lit up and cheeks flushed from embarrassment to excitement.

“Of course,” Owen crossed his arms, smirking. “I’ll have to put up some fancy lights outside.”

“Yes, yes!” She cheered. “Grandpa didn’t like the fuss over the holidays so we never really had Christmas. I’m so excited!” She jumped out of her seat, tossing her arms around Owen’s neck. “Can we dress up the dogs in little antlers?”

He chuckled, having not been excited for the holidays in almost two decades. “We can do whatever you want for your first Christmas.”

She squeezed and hugged him tighter. “We’re going to have so much fun! And we can stay here the whole time, right — all of us together?”

Claire nodded, promising, “This has been the biggest, most successful year for the DPG. We’re closing the office for two weeks until after the new year. Everyone needs time with their family.”

Maisie leaped from Owen to Claire, giving her a long hug, too. “I can’t wait!”

They finished dinner and cleaned up the kitchen, Owen taking twenty minutes or so to go through a routine with the dogs as they ate as well. As darkness started to settle over the property for the night, he lit a wild bonfire, filling the air with a warm scent of the thousands of leaves he’d raked into the pit earlier that day.

Maisie had zipped up her sweatshirt and was reading her library book in the firelight while Claire sat on the denim quilt beside her, fingers falling through her long, tied up locks. Owen approached with a metal square on a pole, a bag of bread, a can of non-stick spray, and a jar of something brown.

“What’s that?”

“Something that’s about to change your life, kid,” He said as he sat down beside them, spraying the small squares and putting a piece of bread on one, then loading it up with the substance from the jar.

“That smells good,” Maisie closed her book and drew a little closer on her knees. “Is it…apples?”

“Yup,” Owen nodded across the way to the small grove of apple trees that had clustered just beyond the cabin. “My grandma’s old pie filling recipe — we used to make it every year. She had triple the amount of apple trees at her house and she showed me and my brother and sister how to can ‘em so they didn’t go to waste.” He put another piece of bread on top, then closed the two pieces of metal together, letting it sit in the fire.

“So it’s like an apple pie?”

“Hobo Apple Pie,” He clarified. “Deliciousness. We always took a few cans camping with us throughout the year when I was little.”

Claire stared at the contraption. “Where did you find that?”

Owen smirked. “Amazon. The corner store in town has one of those lockers that you can send stuff to now. Which is something I’m going to probably regret telling you, Prime Queen.”

“She’s been getting groceries delivered,” Maisie ratted her out with a stage whisper.

“It’s convenient!” Claire insisted. “And it provides a job for someone else. Plus it keeps the collection of Shopkins and Pikmi Pops or whatever surprise toys they’ll come up with next down.”

“They travel well!” Maisie insisted in her own justification with a giggle, reaching into her sweatshirt pocket and revealing a tiny, rainbow-colored dog with eyes half the size of it’s head. Owen took it to examine in the firelight. “And they’re cute!”

“If that’s supposed to be a dog, it came from a messed up gene pool.”

“I came from a tiny tube of genes but I’m still cute,” Maisie insisted.

The two adults looked at one another, then Maisie, finding her with a wicked grin at her own humor and both burst out laughing before Owen pulled her into his lap for a cuddle. “You’re very cute. And we love you and your silly, tiny animal collection.”

Owen took the pie off the fire a few minutes later, letting it cool for a moment before handing it to Maisie, who took a bite and a little happy moan fell out of her. “You’re right,” She said after the second bite, “It’s changing my life.”

After they each ate a life-changing dessert, the three laid down to look at the stars as Maisie had requested. She was sandwiched between the couple, her head leaning more on Owen’s shoulder. She wanted to stay there forever.

Owen scooped her up awhile later when she’d fallen asleep, carrying her inside as the fire died out naturally. Folding up the blanket and taking the rest of their evening fun in as well, Claire got cleaned up while he took Maisie up to the loft. He was untying her boots when she arrived, convincing her to be conscious enough to get out of her jeans and into flannel pajama bottoms. They tucked her in together, Claire pulling an extra quilt from the bench under the window and tucking it at the end the bed in case she needed it overnight. Owen turned on the ceiling star light and Claire clicked a white-noise machine that drowned out whatever sounds they’d make downstairs while they stayed awake a little longer.

Maisie struggled to blink up at them but managed as she whispered, “Good night,” to Claire as she unclipped the big bow in her hair and shimmied the brown locks out of the ponytail, letting them spill over her pillow. Sighing at the release of tension, Maisie rolled over a little more. “I love you.”

Claire kissed her temple. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

She let Owen have a moment alone with the ten-year-old to tuck her in, heading back to the kitchen. She finished getting everything put away before pulling out a bottle of chardonnay from the fridge and then pouring herself a generous serving. Her heart was racing as she prepared to discuss the tension from earlier.

Owen appeared a few minutes later and she slid him a beer, which he cracked without hesitation and a mumbled thanks. After a hefty swig, he leaned his elbows on the counter to rub his closed eyes before shaking his head and kissing Claire hard on the mouth. She sighed a little into it, putting a hand on his chest, ready to spend some time with him. He pulled away and put up a finger, apologizing, “I gotta get the dogs in, then the night’s ours, okay? Or — the next hour we manage to stay conscious anyway.” The whole ‘raising a kid’ situation had certainly helped curb both of them sleepless nights most times they were together.

The old Claire would’ve rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue at the thought of having to wait. But that was beyond her anymore. Understanding his work with living things, Claire made to their bedroom to switch her jeans for joggers. Owen drew a hidden gate between the walkway and the kitchen, then a second at the stairs, not wanting the furry beasts to even think they had the option to sleep with Maisie.

She sat on the couch with her wine, pulling the pins out of her hair and letting it down in waves around her shoulders. Owen opened the front door and three sleepy dogs came stumbling in, one — Emmy, the naughty one, was too wild to be trusted to run from the pen to the house at night, and was thrashing excitedly in his hold. After locking up and turning off the porch light, Owen toed off his shoes while the other three sat obediently in front of him, waiting for directions, their tails thumping against the floorboards. He pulled two large dog mattresses out from under the couch while still keeping Emmy firm in his hold. “Alright, go to bed.”

The three moved quickly to the beds, curling up and relaxing with their little dog-sigh noises. Owen put Emmy down with a gesture to sit, forcing her to look him in the eye for a few long, painful seconds. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Emmy, go to bed.”

At that, she tucked her tail between her legs and ambled slowly to the mattresses, giving him an indignant look, but laying down nonetheless.

“My problem child,” He explained to Claire as she handed him his beer again. “I told them, you want four — better start with five ‘cause there’s gonna be one who just can’t measure up like the others and can ruin the whole team. Sure enough — there’s Emmy.”

“The others seem to ignore her. She just wants to be your pet,” Claire teased.

“Oh, I know she does,” Owen shook his head, taking a drink when she handed him his beer again and sliding a hand over Claire’s leg. “But it’s not gonna happen. Dolly’s my girl, this group. And she’s way too good to be kept by anyone.”

“Well, since you’re not training raptors or dolphins, maybe you’ll get to keep one when they retire,” Claire nudged him a little.

Smiling at the thought, Owen wondered if Claire would want to keep a dog permanently. “You’d let me have one not for work?”

Claire shrugged. “You know I’ve always liked dogs. I’ve told you about Earhart,” She recalled — her beloved childhood dog that she’d left behind for the park, who’d passed away without her and she regretted the abandonment to the day. “Maisie loves them, anyway. This place might be too quiet when they leave in the spring.”

She took a long drink of her wine, feeling the hazy sensation of relaxation as she did.

“So — little Maisie has a little friend, Avery?”

“She’s a cute kid,” Claire nodded. She stood up, retrieving her phone from her bag, where it had dutifully stayed since they arrived, and showing him a picture. “I should’ve sent this to you after I took it.” The image was of Maisie wearing a big smile and bow next to a little bob-cut, blonde girl next to her with an equally oversized bow keeping her parted hair off to the side. They were in awe of creating a winning mousetrap vehicle competition at their science night. “What was all that fuss really about though, when I said she could play with her outside of school? Goodness, you’d think I was telling her that it was a punishment for something.”

“I think I know,” Owen nodded, rubbing the stubble on his cheek, knowing that they needed to talk about her slip-up from earlier in the night that she still hadn’t even realized she’d made. “And part of it is being worried she might not be able to come out here on the weekend, yeah. But the bigger part is related to something else you said earlier today — what you were wanting to actually talk about tonight.”

Claire furrowed her brow, not letting herself get defensive. She was the one who’d wanted a deep, possibly scary conversation — even if it left butterflies in her stomach. “What did I say?”

Owen smirked. He took a long sip of beer before adjusting his arm around the top of the sofa and turning his leg a little so he was looking at her better. There were times, especially since Maisie had come into their lives, he needed to lay things out simple and clear for Claire. No sarcasm, no entitlement, no jokes. Had she only been so willing to listen to such reasoning three years prior on their way to paddock eleven… Clearing his throat, he started to explain the situation, earning her eyes, and more importantly, her trust. “When we were talking about cooking, in the yard. You said…you said you wouldn’t let your daughter eat frozen meals every night.” Claire still didn’t look like she understood the problem until he emphasized, “Your daughter.”

She felt her heart sink into her gut as she realized — not only had she spoken the words out loud, for the first time, but she’d used the label in front of Maisie. Replaying the moment in her head, she squinted, recognizing that was what had led to a tearful, intense hug from the little girl. Paling and feeling her palms grow damp around her wine glass, Claire set it down for a moment and took a deep breath. What she said had been so casual — but it absolutely terrified her, especially because she’d said it so casually. Looking back up at Owen, she needed him to break it down much further in the way that only he, the behavior specialist, could.

Owen scratched his face again, getting ready to delve into why such a simple utterance had led to a crying episode and Claire’s present state. “Maisie’s still confused about her role. Where she fits. It doesn’t help that we’re not living together full time. You said that she was your daughter — out of the blue, in every day conversation, like you were just thinking about it that way in your head. Now she knows — you think about her that way, even if you didn’t know you did until right now, too. You do think of her as your daughter. And I think, based on her reaction, Maisie really liked that, Claire.”

“I-I don’t…not think of her like — I mean…I still don’t know…does she…” Claire tried to gather her thoughts as she was flushed from the tips of her ears downward.

Owen gave an amused sound. The reaction was what he expected of his partner, having been closer to her in eight months than the nearly two years they’d first tried to be together. “The way she felt earlier is sort of like you realizing that you think of her as yours for the first time right now.”

Claire was quiet for awhile as she let the thoughts truly sink in. Not ready to admit them fully yet, she diverted from her emotional state to wonder, “I still don’t understand what that has to do with Maisie playing with her friends.”

He shrugged. “It does. Maisie’s got secrets. Some that her friends can’t know; like her genetic history.” He quieted a little, staring at the group of dogs laying atop one another, snuggled in slumber already. “She’s never going to completely fit in with others, even if they won’t ever know why or even see it. But she’s not like other kids, and she never will be. Aside from that, her situation is a little weird. How does she explain her family to her little friends? ‘This is my Claire, she’s taking care of me.’ I can see why it’d be hard to let people in when you’re still not sure about where you’re at. She probably worries about scaring Avery off.”

Opening and closing her mouth, Claire hadn’t really considered that. She’d always checked the guardian box next to all of Maisie’s paperwork when she’d had to include her own name, and introduced herself as Claire to anyone she’d met. She hadn’t considered how that might’ve made Maisie feel, not having a label to share with others who Claire was to her — other than Claire.

“Even that Avery’s mom probably just assumed you were her mother. Probably didn’t even ask for clarification. ‘Specially at school since no one’s ever met me — her not looking just like you wouldn’t even be something most would consider.”

Shaking her head in agreement, Claire let out a breath. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together. She was pretty sure she liked the completed picture, but it wasn’t just her opinion that mattered. “Does she want me  — us, to think of her like that?”

Owen almost answered on the spot. He’d already had a similar conversation with Maisie a few weekends before and knew her thoughts on the subject. But they weren’t his feelings to share. “I think you’d have to ask her that.”

The color on her face drained from red to white as Claire considered having the conversation. She swallowed a growing lump in her throat with the last of the wine in her glass. “What do you think?”

He sighed, feeling like he might’ve been potentially digging himself into a hole. But — he’d been waiting for Claire to come to some sort of realization about her growing relationship with Maisie, so he was going to share his view no matter if it stung with raw honesty. “You had more reservations about this than I did, this whole time. But you opened yourself up to it — raising a kid. A kid who was going to be turning ten years old at that. And I know you’ve been so afraid to put mom and dad labels on this situation because you’re worried that it could get ripped away from us at any second.”

At that, there was a tear that finally managed to fall down her cheek. “I guess after everything we’ve seen in the last three years, maybe I should start catastrophizing. But I can’t. I feel like this is…forever. Or the next eight, twelve years, at least. Me, you and Maisie. And if you want to call her your daughter, which is what she’s been to you over the last eight months and will be for the next eight years, then I think you should. And I think you should tell her, so that she can call you mom in return.”

Putting her empty glass back down, Claire folded her body into Owen’s. He kissed her tear and ran his fingers through her hair. “You were so hesitant when we started out. But just like anything else you’ve ever done, you’re really good at being a parent, Claire. Maisie loves you. And it’s not just because you let her pick out those damn hybrid animals at the grocery store or let her watch those annoying teenagers screaming on the internet. You’ve given her boundaries and limits, but also so much support and encouragement. You’ve made her step out of her comfort zone just as you’ve done. You’ve given her freedom to just move around and feel free. You let her pick her own clothes and give her a voice in other decisions — real little things like choosing between two breakfast cereals. It’s those simple things that empower a kid, that Maisie was missing until now. You’ve helped her grow so much. I love watching the two of you. And as much as I miss you and wish we weren't living half-separate lives, it’s aiding you develop a deeper relationship with her. I see it every weekend when you’re out here.” There was a long pause. Claire had a lot to think about. “You still…you still like this, right?”

“Yes,” She burst out without questioning it. “I love it in ways that I never could have imagined. Even when I was an eighteen year old idealist dreaming of making a difference in the world; I never thought that would happen in the way that it is now.”

Owen insisted, “And you’re making a difference not only with legislation, like you’d always hoped. But you’re making a difference in the life of a little girl who really deserves it. You are giving her time to shine, Claire. And Maisie’s going to get to grow up to be the best version of herself, because she’s got the best version of Claire there to encourage her.”

X

Claire woke up the next morning and rolled over to a sadly empty bed. Blinking an eye open, she realized that quarter after nine was sure to find her alone in the bedroom she shared with Owen at the cabin. He’d likely already been up for two hours running drills with the dogs — and from the sounds of giggles coming from the kitchen, cooking with Maisie.

She had been up well after the midnight hour, thoughts swirling in her brain after her conversation with Owen. Still a little shaken up by the realization she’d had and overwhelmed by it, she made way to the rest of her family, accepting a cup of coffee from Maisie as she pulled herself into a chair at the table. After a long sip, she took a long look at the ten-year-old. Once she saw the brave, sweet little girl beaming before her, there was no doubt in her mind that Maisie was anything less than hers. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

Maisie hugged her from the side with a similar greeting. “We’re almost done with the french toast. Just a few more minutes!”

“I hope that you don’t always get woken up by a cup of coffee from a ten-year-old,” Owen teased as he put a platter of sausage on the table.

“No, usually I’m dragging this one out of bed in the morning,” Claire teased finding her smile and tickling Maisie’s stomach, making her squeal. “Like this!”  

“She wakes me up at six forty-five!” Maisie defended herself, squeaking when Claire reached for her again. “It’s not fair!”

“Hey, most days, those dogs have me up before six. Cash has a weak bladder.”

“That’s just cruel,” Maisie commented, flipping the last piece of bread over in the pan. She hummed, waiting and rocking back and forth on her feet as she cooked under Owen’s watchful eye. After a few more minutes passed, she peaked at the underside of the bread with a spatula and declared, “Breakfast is ready!”

Claire happily took a piece of the french toast when she brought over the plate, commenting, “Looks amazing, kiddo. Soon, you’ll be able to cook dinner for me.”

“A few more weeks of training and she will,” Owen winked, bringing some chopped apples and sticky syrup over for Maisie to drench her toast in.

They ate while Owen talked about the dogs and what he needed to get done with them in the next few weeks to be on target. Claire had once received his monthly reports on the raptor progress — but they weren’t park attractions and they didn’t affect the bottom line of Jurassic World, so she never truly paid them much attention. As she was learning what it took for Owen to train dogs — man’s best friend, she couldn’t fathom the work it’d taken to get the raptors to the level they were at when everything went to hell. Wishing she hadn’t been so hyper-focused back then, she let her mind wander into a dangerous territory of what could’ve been had she not forgotten herself at the park and recalled why she’d originally gone there. Supposing that finding it three years after disaster was better than never going back to her roots at all, Claire let herself get swept into a conversation with Maisie, who wanted Owen to train rescued pit-bulls next.

After breakfast, Owen saddled the dogs into their harnesses and took them for a hike, Claire and Maisie a comfortable pace behind him at first; having offered to help with a leash each, but Owen insisted his girls needed to practice as usual. With four beasts in front, Owen far out walked the duo. “How about we meet you back at the cabin in awhile?” Claire wondered with a call up to him, wanting to take a detour when she’d found some unexpected gall on the way. She’d received a thumbs-up and directed Maisie down another well-worn path that they’d used all summer.

Maisie wrapped her hands around Claire’s elbow as they got closer to the lake. “Swimming here was so fun. Thank you for teaching me how!”

Claire couldn’t help but smile at the memory of Maisie holding onto her like a baby koala the first time she’d convinced her into the water, the look on her face pure horror. But by the end of August, she had become her mermaid girl, out swimming even Owen with her sleek speed through the waves.

“I miss summer.” Maisie pouted as they approached the dock. “Can we turn back time a little?”

Claire took a seat at the end, the ten-year-old plopping at her side. “Then you’d miss your first Christmas that you’re so excited about!”

“Never mind! We move forward only!” She pushed a finger up to the sky and laughed, leaning on Claire’s arm again. “It was just a perfect summer. The best I ever had.”

Promising the girl with a kiss to the top of her braided hair, Claire assured her, “We’ll have another one come May.”

Beaming, Maisie snuggled in deeper. “Can we maybe get a little canoe? I want to go just around the river bend!” She sang the last part, her arms extended.  

“That would be fun,” Claire nodded. She took a deep breath. “Can I ask you something, sweetheart?”

Sensing a shift in tone, Maisie let up on the silliness, pulling her hands into her lap and bravely nodding. Claire had to find her own courage as well. “Did it…I wasn’t really…” Biting her lip, she managed, “Yesterday, I said something without realizing it. And you reacted well, but — I think we should talk about it.”

“You’re talking about when you said ‘daughter,’” Maisie spoke softly.

Claire closed her eyes and found words, even though they were rushed, “I never wanted to make you feel like we — like I was forcing that on you; that we were trying to take the place of your parents, that I was trying to be your mom. I didn’t — don’t want to make you uncomfortable, or rush you into framing this…relationship in your mind. I didn’t even really realize that I’d been seeing you so much like a daughter, and I guess — it slipped out.”

Maisie was quiet for a moment as she found her response. Looking up with wet eyes, she refused to cry, but expressed herself as best as she could. “You can’t take the place of my mother. Because — I never had a mother.”

“Maisie —” Claire tilted her head, feeling bad for bringing it up at all, wishing she could stuff her foot in her mouth and head back to the cabin and pretend like the conversation hadn’t even been started.

The ten-year-old spoke next with wisdom well beyond her years. “For as long as I can remember, I used to imagine what it would be like if my mom were alive. I’d never even seen pictures of her. Grandpa said it would be ‘too sad’ to see them. In my dreams — there was always this woman, but I couldn’t see her face. It was sort of like — when YouTube is loading on a bad connection; pixelated and wonky.” Claire reached for Maisie’s hand. “In my imagination, my mother would take me on really great adventures. Which was actually anywhere outside of Grandpa’s house. Because everything beyond the yard seemed like it could be adventurous.”

She sighed, playing with Claire’s pale fingers. “I would watch shows on Disney Channel, which Grandpa didn’t know played more than just cartoons. I’d see these really great families and feel so jealous. There was this one show, about a girl who was in middle school. Her mom and dad would sit with her in the window seat in her bedroom and talk to her about things that were hard; they lived in a really cool city, she went to school. She had friends. But at the end of the day, she always had them, no matter what was happening at school or with her friends. And I just wanted that.” Maisie wiped her cheeks and looked up with a smile. “And on the worst day of my life, I got it.”

“Sweetheart,” Claire felt herself choking up.

“I saw you,” Maisie caught a tear again. “And I knew, that no matter what happened, something good was going to come out of that terrible day.”

Confessing her own emotions from the day after the manor, Claire explained through a tight, strained voice, “I was terrified, Maisie. First, I was truthfully worried that Owen and I were going to end up going to jail for kidnapping.” She let out a breath. “Then, when we went back to the manor after a few weeks to try and get all your documents together, to find that you had none…” She wiped her own eyes. “I realized then, that what Owen had felt since day one was true. We were going to have a little girl. And I was just as afraid of that as I was of going to prison. I don’t — didn’t — know the first thing about being a parent. But I just had to believe that things were going to work out. But — the spring was hard, huh?”

Maisie choked on a cry into a laugh. “Hard?”

Claire shook her head. “Okay, practically impossible.” Between the girl’s nightmares, anxiety and trying to scramble together something like a place to live, protecting the dinosaurs that had escaped — drafting legislation, working out her issues with Owen, dealing with her own personal problems…It had been practically impossible. It’d taken a few months to feel like she could even breathe. “We got through that though. And once we were a few months in and the DPG had managed to wrangle half the dinosaurs up safely, and you sort of settled in…it got better. And now? Maisie, I don’t want to have life any other way.”

“Except Owen living with us?”

“There’s that,” Claire shrugged, feeling like while she was being honest — she might as well explain more on the subject. “He and I weren’t together when we brought you out.”

“I figured that out,” Maisie mumbled. “But you still loved him.”

Knowing that the girl could read right through her, Claire wrapped an arm around Maisie’s shoulders. “I sure did. But we were sort of forced back together under survival circumstances. And that was our problem the first time around. Having this sort of space, but still being in love, and having you — it’s probably good for us while we still try and work ourselves out.” Shaking her head, she didn’t want to give Maisie reason to worry. She and Owen were working themselves out — they were going to be fine — like all things worth doing, it would just take a little time.

“Maisie, honey…I never wanted you to feel forced to see me as your mother. I didn’t want to rush you into any kind of relationship. But, now you know — how I see you. I know how I see you. I know you’re not really mine; with the exception of a few forged documents. But I’ve been taking care of you for eight months now. And I think that even with all the challenges and setbacks, they’ve been the best eight months of my life. I’m sorry if this is still all too soon, but I didn’t know I needed a little girl, but I’m very glad I got one.”

“I do still have love in my heart for my grandpa. He raised me. But…he wasn’t at all honest with me. He kept me locked up and away from the world. And he didn’t even have that much time for me in the first place. You, and Owen? You’ve been honest. You’ve let me out into the world and you’ve given me all of your time.” Maisie climbed into Claire’s lap, looking right into her eyes. “And I’m really, really happy that you see me like your daughter. Because,” She choked up again, her lower lip wobbling in a smile, “I see you as my mom.”

At that, Claire held Maisie so tight, she wouldn’t have been sure that either of them could breathe if it weren’t for the happy crying happening between them.

When she let up just a little bit, Claire scooted Maisie back to look at her face, wiping her tear tracks with her palms and kissing the top of her head. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Maisie whispered.

Owen knew immediately when he saw the two that they’d had that much-needed conversation. They both had a sense of relief about them that he’d been hoping they’d find as mother and daughter. Claire shot him a look that — of course — he’d been right, while Maisie was just beaming.

That night, Maisie fell asleep under the stars for the second night in a row, on Claire’s lap in a comfortable lawn chair. Claire just kept marveling at her sweet, sleeping features in the glow of the firelight, while Owen stared on fondly, recording the night in his mind. “Ready for bed, mama?” He asked cheekily.

Claire wanted to shoot him a look but merely kissed the top of her daughter’s head and shrugged. “If you’re ready, dad.”

He sipped his beer, smiling. “She’s been calling me that, real quietly for a few weeks now. That’s what all the whispers were about. She wanted to start sooner with you, but she was nervous. I told her to give it a little time. It’d all work out. And here we are — perfect fall evening, a hard-working, dedicated mom and her little girl. It was time. And it’s a beautiful sight.”

Owen reached forward, positioning the sleepy kiddo in his arms. She stirred just a little, smiling down at Claire. They went through the same routine as the night before, barley managing to keep her awake long enough to get her into pajamas. Owen clicked on the light and sound machine, whispering his good-nights and sweet dreams first, giving Claire time alone with her newly cemented daughter.

She laid down on Maisie’s bed for a moment, giving her a proper cuddle. “I’m really happy we talked today. I’m always going to be here for you. I love you.”

“I love you, too, mom.” Maisie breathed back, nuzzling into Claire’s neck.