I looked at Dex. He was holding Owen’s shoulder. Petra stood beside him, dirt beneath her fingernails, no papers in her hands, no hidden plan behind her eyes.
“Yes,” I said. “It is our home.”
The first apple blossoms opened above us.
They were small, pale, and impossibly bright against the evening sky.
I slipped my hand into Dex’s, and together we stood beneath the tree while the house filled with light.
