Five years later, Lucien Ashford woke on an ordinary Tuesday morning to the particular chaos of a large, enthusiastic dog attempting to climb onto a bed clearly too small for three occupants, and the considerably gentler warmth of his husband's arm still wrapped loosely around him from the night before.

"Bramble," Ezra murmured, half-asleep, not bothering to open his eyes as the dog in question settled his considerable weight directly across both their legs. "You have your own bed."

"He prefers ours," Lucien said, scratching absently behind the dog's ears, the same dog they'd chosen together five years earlier from the shelter near Cole's foundation office, now considerably larger than...