"Come on," Pidge whined, draping herself over the couch. "It's been forever since we went out! And we need to celebrate you finally being done with all this legal bullshhh—"

Lance shot her a glare over his daughter's head. The two were sitting on the floor, trying to build "the tallestest block tower ever, papa!" Estella was still pretty small for a three-year-old, no thanks to fucking Nyma. His poor baby...

"Stop thinking about her," Pidge ordered, just as scarily aware of his thoughts as always. "It's done with, and you don't have to worry about her anymore."

"I know..." Lance handed Estella another block to place on their tower. It was almost too tall for her and Lance had to steady her before she overbalanced on her tiptoes. "It's just kinda hard to stop. It's been my constant worry for the last two years, yanno? Good job, Estella!" he added in Spanish.

Estella beamed at him and he melted into a puddle right then and there.

"That's why we need to go out! Oof!"

Lance snickered as he watched his three-year-old tackle her tía Pidge and demanded she come play, too. But it was almost her bedtime and she still needed a bath before she got too tired and threw a tantrum. Lance smirked at Pidge. "Maybe if you ask really nicely, tía Pidge will give you a bath."

"Traitor."

"Tía Pid!" Estella cried, bouncing on her back. "Peez gimme a bath?"

"Give her a bath and I might think about going out."

Pidge had a squealing toddler under her arm without hesitation. "Let's go, munchkin!"

"'m not a munchkin!" Estella's tiny legs kicked out at the injustice.

"You're shorter than me, so that makes you a munchkin."

"Nooooo!"

Let it be noted that Estella got her dramatics from him. Lance rolled his eyes fondly at the two and swept the blocks back into their bin. He still needed to clean up from dinner, take out the trash, and take a shower himself before he could go to bed. Thank God Pidge was there to give Estella a bath so he could make it to bed somewhat on time.

That was the only downside to being a single parent. He had to do everything by himself, plus take care of a rambunctious three-year-old. His family and friends were saints and came over frequently enough that he didn't feel too burnt out, but it still made him frazzled.

The whole Nyma thing didn't help, either.

Lance scowled as he scrubbed at a plate. Fucking Nyma. They had been married for nearly five years before the divorce finally went through just last week. They'd gotten married right after college and had bought a house together and had Estella two years later. Things were supposed to be perfect. Nyma had wanted to be a part-time stay-at-home mom, part-time worker while Lance worked his way up at Altea's most prestigious spa. The sponge oozed soap spuds as he remembered coming home one day to a thirteen-month-old Estella crying in the closet Nyma had stuffed her in while she was passed out on some concoction of drugs, bruises forming on the baby's cheek and arms. The rush to the hospital, the accusations, the police reports that followed. The custody battle while juggling the divorce and taking care of an infant. His mama had been a godsend and had moved into the guest bedroom to take care of Estella while he figured everything else out, and had only just moved back to her own home for good a couple of months ago when Estella started preschool.

It was still hard, though. He wanted to raise his kid with someone, wanted to share her with someone who was just as invested in her wellbeing as he was. Don't get him wrong—his family and friends were amazing with Estella and loved her so much, but...

They weren't always around.

He wanted someone to come home to, someone to cuddle with and kiss and love and grow old with. Nyma should have been that, and he still didn't understand how he hadn't seen her bullshit before, how he had missed the neglect and drugs and lies.

It wouldn't be bad to have someone to split the mortgage with, either, to be honest. He had offered to let Pidge stay with him for cheap, but she was always up at odd hours of the night and her tech was too small and dangerous for wandering tiny hands. Neither of them wanted Estella to accidentally hurt herself if she got into Pidge's room or Pidge accidentally left something out. Unfortunately, Hunk and Shay already had their own home and were thinking of starting their own family, otherwise he would have offered the guest bedroom to them. And he didn't trust anyone else with his precious daughter and hated the idea of a stranger living with them.

"Hey," called a soft voice from the edge of the kitchen. "Estella's all clean. Teeth brushed and everything. She just wants you to read her a story."

Lance's shoulders dropped. He'd been so busy thinking of the past that he had hardly gotten through the dishes. One whole plate was clean. Shit. And he still had to clean the kitchen and do the trash and sort his grocery list for tomorrow and—

"Hey." A small hand touched his arm. It was only then he noticed he was strangling his sponge. "What's up?"

"I still have so much to do—"

"Whatcha want me to do?" Pidge asked before he could spiral further. "I can get started on it so it's less for you to do later."

"I can't ask you to do that."

"I'm offering."

His friends were just too damn kind to him sometimes. He brushed away his tears with the back of his wrist, swallowing the lump in his throat. His eyes burned and he tried to will his tears away. "Dishes. Trash. Grocery list." His words were too stilted, he knew, but it was hard to talk around the lump in his throat. It was so stupid, too. There was no need for him to get so emotional! He had been dealing with it for two years. Two years! He should have been—

"Hey, calm down, buddy." Pidge wasn't the most comforting person, but her bluntness was welcomed anyway. "No need to get all worked up. It's just dishes and trash."

Lance choked out a watery chuckle.

"Now wipe your face off. You're leaking everywhere." Pidge threw a towel at his face, and he didn't expect anything less from her.

Quickly, he cleaned himself up before going to Estella's room. He couldn't worry her. She'd already had such a hard life so far and she didn't need to see his bullshit. He paused in her doorway to watch her as she snuggled between all her stuffed animals everyone had gifted her throughout the years. She had her book ready and everything. It was the one about Stellaluna, the bat. She loved it because the bat's name was almost like her name, and Lance read it to her the most out of every book they had.

"Hey, cariño," he said as he stepped into the room. "Stellaluna again?"

"Yes, peez!"

Her tiny bed was too small for him to sit on, so he sat on the floor and propped himself on the edge of her bed. He angled the book towards her so she could see the pictures, yellow bear about as big as she was, curtesy of Hunk, in her arms.

Lance probably had the story memorized, but he kept his eyes on the book instead of her. He didn't want her to see that he had been crying. But she was good and kept her attention locked on the pages, half hidden behind her bear. Her eyes drooped near the end. Lance closed the book quietly and set it back on her shelf next to the bed. He dropped a kiss to her forehead and pulled up the blankets to tuck her in.

"Night, baby-girl."

"Night, papa," she replied sleepily. "Love you."

"I love you, too."

Pidge was waiting in the family room for him, two heaping bowls of ice cream on the coffee table. It was far enough away that Estella wouldn't be attracted by their voices and come out to see what she was missing. "You wanna talk about it?" she asked as he settled on the couch, slouched against one of the arms. She was quick to snuggle against his side.

She may have been prickly about touch at the best of times, but she always allowed him to cuddle when he was upset.

"It's just..." He stirred his ice cream a bit and took a bite to gather his thoughts. "It's over, you know? And... I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do now."

"Come celebrate," was Pidge's automatic response. "You need a break. You need a night out to relieve some stress." She gave him a sly look out of the corner of her eye. That look never boded well for him. "You need to get laid."

"Pidge!"

"It's true."

"Doesn't mean you have to say it," he grumbled into his ice cream, jostling her purposefully in retribution. "I don't even know if I remember how to flirt. And I have Estella to think about—"

She knocked her head against his shoulder. "It's just a one night stand. Go to their place."

"But I kind of want, like, an actual date."

Shit.

Shit.

He didn't mean to say that out loud. Not to Pidge, of all people. She was going to make so much fun of him—

But she wasn't. When he finally looked down at her, she looked thoughtful. Pensive, even. Almost scheming.

"What are you planning?"

"Hmm? Me?" she asked innocently as she pulled out her phone and typed a quick message.

"Who are you texting."

She hummed as she put away her phone without letting him see. "Just Hunk to tell him you're coming on Friday."

"I didn't agree!"

She pulled out her phone again and typed quickly. Lance was only just quick enough to see that she was texting his mama. "Hey!"

Before he could stop her, she sent the message. Not even thirty seconds later his phone lit up with a text from his mama. Lance glared at Pidge as he picked it up. She grinned innocently at him and took a large bite of her ice cream.

Of course I'll watch Estella! read the text. She can have a slumber party with us!

Before he could reply, she sent him another message. Don't make me kidnap my own granddaughter so you can go celebrate

And then another: You're too stressed. You need this!

"I hate you."

"You love me and you know it."

"Unfortunately."

"Friday. Six p.m. We'll go to dinner wherever you want and then take you for drinks at the Castle."

"You know I don't get off until six."

"So come right after work," she snarked back with a roll of her eyes and a pointed bite of ice cream.

"Fine."

And Pidge even helped him organize his grocery list so he could take a shower and be in bed before ten. Maybe he wouldn't be too mad at her for making him socialize, he thought as he set his alarm for the next morning. It didn't take him long to fall asleep.

"You need a break, Keith."

Keith tried his hardest not to give his brother a look. "I have a ten-month-old. I can't just 'take a break.'"

"Have mom and dad watch him." Shiro seemed unconcerned. "But you need a break. And to celebrate! Friday night would be perfect! The adoption is all legit, you have sole custody—"

"Only because Lotor's family is fucking insane," Keith grumbled into the neck of his hoodie. They were resting on the couch after finally getting Jaxton to lay down for bed. The kid would be awake in a few hours for a midnight snack before sleeping for the rest of the night, but Keith knew, though, that if he went to bed now he would just be more exhausted later.

The hurt was still fresh, thinking about his twin sister. His gut twisted every time the bastard's name was mentioned. Keith wanted to rip Lotor apart for murdering his sister, but Jaxton needed him so much more than Keith needed to get revenge. Acxa had named him the kid's guardian, had written up papers and everything for it because she knew her ex-boyfriend would find her and probably kill her for leaving. Police had done nothing, even though she had filed report after report of his abuse. Lotor's family had too much money, their names were too well known, even though most of them were in prison for some reason or another.

And now his sister was dead because of it.

"Hey." Shiro slapped his prosthetic arm against Keith's chest, winding him. "Stop. I know it hurts, I get it. But there's nothing more you can do about it besides move on and live your life."

Keith stood, fists clenched and seething. Blinding hot rage surged through him. How dare Shiro try to tell him not to grieve. "My twin sister is dead, Shiro. Excuse me for being a little upset about it."

"That's not what I meant—"

Keith stomped away before Shiro could say anything else. He needed to get away before he punched the asshole right in the face. The bathroom door didn't slam, just in case it woke Jaxton. But he slid down the door and hugged his knees tight, hiding his face and pressing his eyes to his knees to keep the tears from falling. It was no use; his jeans were drenched in seconds.

A light knock tapped above his head. "Keith?"

"Fuck off."

"I'm sorry," Shiro said quietly. "I know it hurts. I'm hurting, too. She was my sister, too."

"Adopted sister."

"Still my sister."

Keith's breath hitched. "I knew her my whole life. And now she's—"

"I know." It sounded like Shiro had settled on the floor just opposite the door. "I know. And it hurts. But you can't keep yourself holed up like this. You need to get out and live. For her. You can't just go to work and come home and take care of Jaxton. You need to socialize with someone other than your family."

"I don't want to."

Shiro didn't respond. Maybe he would shut up and leave him alone to grieve in peace.

Thing was, though, he was exhausted. Even though mom and dad and Shiro and Adam helped the best they could, it was still hard taking care of a baby by himself. They were in a tiny, cramped apartment since he couldn't really afford a house at the moment. Maybe in a few years he could, but at the moment he needed to save up for that. Jaxton was a happy baby, at least, and didn't mind that he didn't have very many toys or that they didn't have a big house for him to run around in, or a back yard to play in. Keith's job at the cemetery paid well, sure, but Jaxton ate up a lot of that money.

Not that he didn't love his kid, but...

He hadn't really ever planned on having kids to begin with. When Acxa had come to him and crashed at his place after escaping Lotor and putting a restraining order against him, she had brought up her concerns that he might find her and try to hurt her. She had asked him to be Jaxton's guardian if anything happened to her, and he had naively agreed because he thought the justice system would have kept Lotor away from her. He hadn't even asked why him when there was mom and dad and Shiro and Adam to choose from, even though they weren't blood related.

He loved Jaxton to pieces. The kid looked enough like him that people thought he was Keith's, anyway. And it helped that his family was willing to help out.

But he was also lonely. He wanted someone to be there all the time, he wanted Jaxton to have two parents, instead of just him. He was too fucked up to raise a kid by himself. He was gonna screw the kid over—he just knew it.

But he also wasn't quite ready to date yet, either.

He knew the stigma of being a single parent so young. He had tried a few dates, but the guys had always ghosted him after hearing about his kid. He knew that most men wouldn't give him a second chance the second he brought up Jaxton. Adding in all the bullshit drama, too?

He was never going to find a husband, let alone a boyfriend.

Keith sighed and wiped at his eyes. He stood so he could rinse his face off a little to try to get rid of the evidence of his crying. Shiro would see right through it, but hopefully he wouldn't say anything.

Shiro was sitting against the wall when Keith opened the door.

"Fine," Keith grumbled. "We'll get drinks Friday night, and you're buying me dinner, too. You're paying for everything and you're asking mom to watch Jaxton overnight."

Even though the Shiroganes had adopted him and Acxa a few years after their dad had died, they had never treated them like they were adopted. Shiro liked to joke that mom liked them more than Shiro, even, but their parents just said that they didn't pick favorites and to shut up, Takashi, have another cookie, Keith, Acxa. But Keith was still sometimes afraid that they didn't actually love him as much as they seemed to claim. He felt like too much of a burden, sometimes, and hated asking for help. Mom and dad had offered to watch Jaxton, though, instead of spending an insane amount of money on daycare so he could save up for his house. They never treated Jaxton like a burden, even though Keith couldn't pay them very much to watch over him during the week. They were older and were retired and claimed that watching the baby kept them youthful and spry, dad would joke over his crossword puzzle.

Shiro asking for them to watch Jaxton outside of the expected hours? They would do it in a heartbeat, especially if Shiro told them it was so Keith could relax.

Shiro beamed up at him. "Great! Mind if Adam comes along?"

"He's your husband," Keith replied, confused. Why wouldn't Adam come along? The two were practically surgically attached. It was really annoying, mostly because Keith had a hard time biting down his jealousy at his brother's relationship when they got too lovey-dovey in front of him.

Rolling his eyes, Shiro stood and clapped a hand to his shoulder. "I'll see if Pidge can come, too? And whoever else you want."

"Sure," he replied with a shrug. "The more the merrier, I guess."

"Maybe we can get you laid, too," Shiro mumbled under his breath.

"Out."

Lance settled across from Alfor at their customary booth at Sal's Diner. They usually met there once a week on Wednesdays for dinner unless otherwise needed to settle all the legal battles. They had known each other for years—almost two decades by then—since Lance had been in Allura's class since elementary school. They had become quick friends and Lance had been the very first to be offered a job at the spa Allura had opened up. They were close enough friends that Alfor had offered to be Lance's lawyer pro bono for the whole Nyma mess.

"So," said Alfor in his beautiful British accent. Lance had been a little bit in love with him and the accent when he was younger and figuring out his sexuality. Now, though, it only affected him minimally. Alfor's smile was gentle and contagious as he continued, "You're finally free."

"Thank you, Alfor. Really." Lance grinned back at him and sat back, closing his eyes. "I don't know where I'd be if it wasn't for you." He took a moment to just breathe, relaxing as much as he could. It had been a long day at work and he was glad to be off his feet. "Not sure what I'm going to do with my Wednesday nights now, to be honest," he joked.

Alfor chuckled at him. "I'm sure Estella would be ecstatic to have you."

"Too true," Lance replied with a laugh.

Their food arrived shortly—the staff by then knew their usual orders and put it in as soon as they saw one of them arrive on Wednesday nights. They ate in silence for a moment, just enjoying the other's company.

But Lance couldn't help but fidget. What was he supposed to do now? He voiced his concern quietly to Alfor, adding, "It's just so—final, yanno? We've been fighting this so hard and—and I don't know what to do, now."

Alfor set down his utensils and leaned forward to take Lance's fidgeting hands in his own. "Now you get to be happy and don't have to worry anymore. And if Nyma or any of her family or friends try to contact you, you let me know and I'll take care of it. No one is allowed to intrude on your happiness, Lance. It's unfortunate that we couldn't get her a longer sentence, but she no longer has any claim or right to your child and that's enough."

A shaky breath left Lance. "I know." Alfor's larger hands squeezed his comfortingly as he tried to piece together his thoughts. "I just want Estella to be happy."

"She loves you, Lance," Alfor replied with that same gentle, understanding smile. "You're amazing with her and she couldn't ask for a better father."

His small laugh was weak and choked as tears pooled in his eyes. "Thanks, Alfor." But what he had said to Pidge last night nagged at him and he bit his lip, thinking. Alfor wouldn't judge him, would he? No, Alfor loved him like a son. He wouldn't judge Lance, no matter what stupidity came from him. He drew in another shaky breath and asked, "Is it too soon to want to date? Since the divorce was only settled last week, but..."

Alfor squeezed his hands again. "You take as much time as you need. If you find a date this weekend, it shouldn't stop you. You and Nyma have been separated for two years, anyway. You're allowed to be happy, too, Lance." He squeezed his hands one more time before pulling away. "Don't forget that."

Lance wiped at his tears. It was hard, trying to remember that he was allowed to be happy, too. He had just been so angry and upset about the whole thing for so long that he was almost afraid he'd forgotten how not to be. But, no. Pidge was promising a night of fun, a night to start a new chapter of his life.

It was hard, but... He wanted to.

At the end of their meal, he slipped the bill closer to himself and put his credit card in before Alfor could snatch it away. "To thank you," he said. "It's not enough, but..."

"You being happy is all the payment I need," Alfor argued back, trying to take the little black book away from him.

"Stop being sappy and let me thank you."

Alfor rolled his eyes, but didn't argue.

"I'm gonna miss this," Lance confessed after their waitress, Marina, took his card.

"We don't have to stop," Alfor replied without hesitation. "Maybe we could still meet once a month?"

"First Wednesday of the month," Lance agreed. "Gotta keep up our Wednesday tradition."

Alfor laughed. "I'm sure they're going to miss us."

It was at that moment that several of the staff crowded around their booth. The other patrons paused to look curiously at their table—Sal's wasn't known for doing birthday singing from the staff or anything of the sort. Sal stood in front, a large, imposing man who had been quite gruff and standoffish when Lance and his friends had first started coming as teenagers, but had gentled and mellowed out throughout the years after Hunk had worked for him through college.

"Here," he grunted, shoving two small Styrofoam containers at them. "To celebrate."

Inside was one of Hunk's desserts that had helped with getting people in to Sal's Diner; a large slice of lemon-raspberry-chocolate cheesecake lay snug in the container. "Thanks, Sal," he said, beaming up at the man. "We're not gonna stop coming just because we're done with court."

"You better not," Sal muttered gruffly before turning away. "Congrats. Bring Estella in soon."

The others congratulated him as well, though much more joyfully. Marina slipped him the receipt and his card with a grin. "Boss is right. We need our Estella-fix sooner rather than later."

"You just wanna get her hopped up on sugar," Lance teased as he signed the receipt and added extra for her tip.

"That too," she laughed, taking the book. "See you guys later."

They shuffled out of the diner and stood on the sidewalk, watching the evening traffic slip by. It was a little chillier than Lance had anticipated so he zipped up his jacket and leaned against Alfor. It was twilight already, stars sparkling just on the eastern horizon as the western horizon slipped from pink to purple as the sun lowered.

"Thanks, man, really. I owe you."

"Just be good to Estella and we'll call it even." Alfor wrapped his arm around Lance for a quick hug. "I better go. Coran wanted me to bring him some dinner."

"Estella's probably waiting for me, too," Lance said with a laugh. "I'll see you later, Alfor."

Alfor dropped a kiss to his temple before pulling away. Lance's chest felt warm at the action, even as his heat drew away. "Love you, kiddo. Don't forget we're here for you."

"Thanks." He watched as Alfor walked away to slip into his bright red BMW at the far end of the parking lot. Lance rubbed at the ache in his chest, wondering how long until the emptiness there went away.

But, Estella was waiting for him. With a sigh, he trudged back to his Subaru to go pick her up from his mama's house.

September was still warm enough that he didn't need his jacket quite yet. His black jeans absorbed the heat of the sun and kept him comfortably warm as the light breeze ruffled the short sleeves of his shirt. It was red, at least, instead of the gross puke green color most of the others liked to wear with the cemetery's logo on the back and over his heart. He tugged on his black work gloves as he approached Romelle, his thick black work boots crunching the first of the fallen leaves.

"Hey," he muttered, stopping at her side. They stood far enough away from the gravesite that the gathered crowd couldn't hear them. The priest droned on from his Bible.

"Hey, Keith," Romelle replied jovially. She was always chipper, even though her job was so depressing.

"Family still wanting to do the first few shovels?"

"After the vault is on, yeah."

Keith grunted and turned just enough to see where Regris went. The boy was insanely tall, but was excellent at hiding when he wanted to. He was standing in between two trees, well hidden in the shade. Keith gave him a little wave and Regris immediately started moving towards them. "So," he said softly, tapping his fingers against his thigh. Shiro had said that anyone he wanted could come tomorrow night.

He liked Romelle. They worked closely enough, with being the only cemetery and funeral home in town, respectively. Plus, she had been a tremendous help when his sister had died. They had been friends before that, enough that they got each other little gifts for Christmas and knew quite a bit about each other. He knew she had a girlfriend named Allura who she was thinking of proposing to soon and about her sickly brother. She knew about Shiro and Adam and Jaxton, of course, but she also knew that his brother was trying to adopt.

"So?"

"Me and my brother and Adam and maybe a few others are going to the Castle of Lions at about seven tomorrow night if you want to join?" he asked, feeling his face heat up. "To celebrate all the legal stuff with Jaxton being done with."

Romelle was vibrating where she stood. Keith was sure that if they weren't in the middle of a funeral she would have been bouncing around. "I'd love to!" she whispered, trying to hide her excitement. The priest concluded the service. "Just a second. I'll signal for you."

Knowing the routine, Keith stepped back and kept a careful eye on her as she dismissed people to meet at the reception back at the church. As people wandered back to their cars, Regris stepped up beside him. He was a whole head and a half taller than Keith, which was just a little ridiculous. Most of the guys who worked at the cemetery towered over him. Keith wasn't short, either! These guys were just ridiculously tall and all teased him about being so short.

Did Keith want to invite them? They were all nice enough, sure, and asked after his kid from time to time. But...

Maybe some other time.

Romelle signaled for him to lower the casket. He turned to the truck hiding behind the trees a few rows over and waved for Kolivan to go ahead and come over with the vault. He and Regris made quick, efficient work, taking out the boards and the skirt around the lowering device. It wasn't long before the casket, gold and shiny and a waste of fucking money, was lowering. Kolivan and Regris brought over the vault top just as the casket settled on the base. Once the straps were rolled back onto the lowering device and it was rolled away, Regris and Kolivan dropped the vault over the casket. Kolivan had already brought over the gator filled with dirt and a shovel.

The family was crying, and Keith had to look away as tears prickled behind his eyes. Before, he had never understood the people who cried at funerals. What was there to be sad about, anyway? The dead wouldn't come back just because you cried.

But when Acxa...

Her funeral was the hardest he had ever cried. He hadn't even cried as much at his dad's funeral, feeling only empty and numb and angry. But for Acxa, he had sat through the service stony-faced and silent. It was only when he had sat and watched the crematory after the service as the time counted down and the temperature rose that he let his emotions out. Romelle had let him sit in front of it the entire three hours that it took to cremate her and he took that opportunity to sob uncontrollably, top button undone and tie askew and hair wild as he clutched at the strands. She had sat with him the entire time, handing him a Kleenex and bottle of water when he could control himself enough to use them. She let him watch her use a long metal thing to bring Acxa's charred remains up, closer under the stream of fire, moving it around so it would break down easier, even though she wasn't supposed to let him watch. He didn't bother to dry his cheeks since they would just re-wet within a moment.

But it had felt cathartic, watching her body break down in the flames. It was real; she was dead and she wasn't coming back.

Maybe tears weren't so bad at funerals, he thought.

"You okay?" Romelle asked softly, hand light on his elbow.

Keith drew in a shaky breath. "Yeah. It still hurts, yanno? But... But I think I'll be okay."

She smiled at him, waiting until he calmed down before speaking again. The family took turns taking a shovelful of dirt and dumping it over the hard plastic vault, and they watched quietly as one son, sniffling, went several times.

"So. The Castle of Lions at seven tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Shiro thinks I need a break. And to celebrate."

"Good for you," she said sincerely. "You work way too hard. I'll buy you a drink."

Keith let out a small laugh. "I told Shiro that the only way I was going was if he bought all my drinks."

"Smart man," she laughed, punching his arm jokingly. "Allura is going out with a friend, anyway, so I need something even more fun to do."

Keith just shook his head and fondly rolled his eyes. Their relationship was weird and one Keith didn't quite understand, but it made Romelle happy so he couldn't quite argue. It mostly made him laugh how competitive the two could be.

"Glad I'm second-best," he teased.

"Everyone is second-best to Allura," Romelle replied, voice soft. "I'm going to propose by Christmas."

"Isn't that what you said last Christmas?"

"This time, for sure!" She moved to talk to the family wandering away, done with shoveling and forcing the son to head back to his car.

Keith got it. He did. He understood what the guy was going through. That need to see things finished, to make sure she was really dead, that she wasn't coming back. He clenched his hands, feeling the gloves tighten with his fists.

Yeah, maybe the weekend would do him some good, he thought as he headed towards the hole. But for now, he had a job to complete.