Allison's POV
The weekend had been wonderfully normal—a precious commodity in my life lately.
Sunday started with the smell of maple syrup and the sound of Lily's laughter echoing through our tiny kitchen.
We were making pancakes—wolf-shaped, because she's currently obsessed with “our kind.”
She was dead set on getting the ears just right, which mostly meant batter everywhere and one oddly aggressive-looking pancake that might've been a bear in another life.
After breakfast, we headed to the butterfly conservatory.
Lily stood in the middle of the path like a statue, arms stretched out like she was summoning nature itself.
And somehow, it worked.A monarch butterfly landed right on her fingertip.
She gasped like she'd just discovered magic, and I swear my heart did
