I reach out, squeezing Willow’s hand tightly. "He looked after you because you matter to him, Willow. Stitch doesn't waste his time or make lavender tea on just anyone."
"He’d better not," Jade mutters, though a soft, genuine smile breaks through her tough exterior. "If that grumpy old butcher hurts you, I’ll personally spike his coffee with Xena’s drool."
Willow laughs, a bright, musical sound that fills the penthouse living room. "Thank you, Jade. But I don't think he will."
We lapse into a comfortable, easy silence for a few minutes. Xena finally gives up on her chew toy, crawling onto the edge of Willow’s dress and flopping her heavy head directly across her ankles, fast asleep. Willow strokes her dark fur with gentle, rhythmic motions.
Jade turns to me, her green eyes growing seri
