Chapter Twenty-Nine:

Dinner was already underway when the breakroom doors burst open.

Olivia came through first, laughing breathlessly, half-dragging Lenny behind her by one hand. Both of them were wrapped in short, glossy station robes that caught the light when they moved—Olivia’s a deep sapphire blue, clinging like it had been poured onto her, Lenny’s a dangerous ruby red that looked one good tug away from becoming a suggestion rather than clothing.

They were hanging all over each other with the loose-limbed ease of people who had no business being anywhere near polite company.

“I swear,” Lenny was saying, voice hoarse but delighted, “you are an absolute menace. That tongue should come with a warning label and a license.”

Olivia, already beelining toward the table, sniffed the air like she hadn’t eaten in days—because functionally, she hadn’t. “You seemed plenty hydrated a few minutes ago,” she shot back sweetly. “You were screaming loud enough to echo in the conversation pit.”

Charles did not so much as blink.

Miss LaDonna merely smiled into her tea.

“Children,” Miss LaDonna said warmly, as Olivia dropped into a chair and immediately began reaching for food. “It does my heart good to see you both in such… robust spirits.”

Charles rose, already reaching into the impossible depths of his coat. “So,” he said mildly, setting two additional serving trays on the table—both piled high with hot food that smelled divine. “Are we to assume the patient is fully healed, Doctor?”

Olivia made a noise that was half a laugh, half a growl, and immediately started eating like the concept of utensils was optional.

Lenny, meanwhile, leaned heavily against the table, twisting the cap off a bottle of water and downing half of it in one go. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, took another long pull, and only then straightened—just a little.

The flirt didn’t leave her eyes. But the doctor stepped back in.

“She’s stable,” Lenny said, tone shifting—not cold, just grounded. “Out of the danger zone. Metabolic systems are settling, instincts are integrating instead of running the show, vitals are clean. No residual fever, no runaway growth signals.”

She glanced sideways at Olivia, who was tearing into something protein-heavy with undisguised joy.

“She’s going to be hungry like this for a bit,” Lenny added. “Sleepy too. Emotional. But the hard part? That’s done.”

Charles nodded, satisfied. Miss LaDonna reached out and rested a hand briefly on Olivia’s shoulder, affectionate and proud.

Lenny took another sip of water, then sighed—this time with something like reluctance.

“Which,” she said, lightly but clearly, “means I should probably get dressed after dinner and get back on the road. I’ve got a kelpie with a fractured fin, and something involving an antique mirror that absolutely cannot wait.”

Olivia paused mid-bite.

Just for a second.

Then she kept eating—slower now—but she didn’t argue. Didn’t cling. Didn’t pretend not to hear.

Afterglow still clung to her like warmth after a fire, but something steadier had taken root underneath it.

Miss LaDonna watched that happen and smiled.

Charles poured more tea, nodding.After a few minutes—once the worst of the hunger had eased into something manageable—Olivia slowed enough to notice the other ache settling in her chest.

She glanced sideways at Lenny, who was midway through her third bottle of water and looking significantly more human again.

“…You could stay,” Olivia said, carefully casual, though her ears twitched with hope she hadn’t quite learned to hide yet. “At least tonight.”

Lenny didn’t tease her for it. That alone said everything.

She set the bottle down and turned fully toward Olivia, one hand resting on the edge of the table. “I wish I could,” she said honestly. “I really do. But I’ve got patients stacked three deep, and at least one of them bites when I’m late.”

Olivia’s shoulders slumped just a fraction.

“But,” Lenny continued, grin returning, eyes flicking pointedly to the sad, neglected vegetables still sitting on Olivia’s plate, “if you eat all of those… I’ll stay long enough to take a shower with you.”

Olivia blinked.

“…All of them?”

“All of them,” Lenny confirmed. “No negotiating. No hiding broccoli under the plate. Doctor’s orders.”

“And then?” Olivia pressed.

“And then,” Lenny said, softer now, “you walk me to my bike. I head out. And I’ll be back in a few days. I’ll rearrange my schedule—do it properly next time. Overnight.”

Something settled in Olivia’s chest at that. Not possession. Not panic.

Just trust.

She nodded once.

Then—without ceremony—destroyed the vegetables.

The plate was immaculate in under a minute. Not a leaf, not a stalk, not a grain left behind. Charles raised an eyebrow. Miss LaDonna laughed outright.

Lenny stared at the empty plate, impressed despite herself. “Well,” she said. “That’s… thorough.”

Olivia stood, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, grabbed Lenny’s fingers—and started tugging her toward the door.

“Shower,” she declared. “Now.”

Lenny barely had time to laugh before being hauled along. “Here we go again!” she called back cheerfully, nearly tripping as Olivia towed her out of the breakroom.

Charles lifted his mug in salute. Miss LaDonna shook her head fondly.

And the breakroom doors swung shut behind them, laughter echoing down the hall.

The shower ran long and hot, steam curling against the ceiling as if the apartment itself were reluctant to let the moment end. When they finally stepped out, toweling each other dry slowly, unhurriedly, it felt less like recovery and more like aftercare—hands lingering not out of hunger now, but affection.

Lenny was the first to break away, reaching for her leathers with a theatrical sigh.“Won’t be the first time I’ve gone commando,” she said cheerfully, tugging the zipper up and rolling her shoulders back into her familiar, armored confidence.

Olivia watched her for a second, then grabbed the discarded white lab coat before Lenny could reach it. She slipped it on instead—far too big through the shoulders, far too short everywhere else—and crossed her arms, chin lifting with mock severity.

“You can have this back,” Olivia said, “when you come back to me.”

Lenny froze.

Just for a second.

Then she turned, really looked at Olivia—ears relaxed, tail swaying lazily behind her, eyes bright and open in a way they hadn’t been before—and nodded once.

“Deal,” she said softly. “But you’d better eat all your vegetables while I’m gone.”

She stepped in, wrapped her arms around Olivia, and kissed her again—not rushed, not hungry, just warm and grounding. The kind of kiss you take with you.

Then Lenny shouldered her pack, scooped up her helmet, and together they walked downstairs—past the front desk, through the quiet lobby, and out into the cool evening air. Apparently, a lab coat counted as being dressed enough; the station did not object.

At the bike, there was one last kiss, closer this time, and a murmured exchange meant for no one else. Lenny slid her helmet on, the engine roared to life, and in moments she was gone—down Clarksville Road, a flash of red and white disappearing into the night.

Olivia stood there for a long moment afterward, hugging the lab coat close, breathing in the faint trace of ozone, leather, and something unmistakably Lenny.

Eventually, she turned and went back inside.

The breakroom lights were low and warm. Miss LaDonna sat at the table, calm as ever, two mugs set out neatly beside a small pot of tea, steam rising gently.

Olivia hesitated in the doorway.

Miss LaDonna smiled, kind and knowing.“Come sit, dear,” she said. “You look like you could use something warm.”

They sat with their mugs between their hands, steam curling up into the soft light. For a while they didn’t speak at all. Miss LaDonna let silence do what it always did best—make room.

Finally, Olivia exhaled, long and shaky.

“I don’t even know how to say this without sounding ridiculous,” she admitted. “I’ve never felt this way about another woman before. That alone is… a lot. But it’s not just that. I’ve never felt anything this big. Ever. Not happiness, not fear, not attraction, not want. Everything feels like it’s turned up to eleven.” She laughed weakly. “I love it. And it scares the hell out of me.”

Miss LaDonna’s eyes softened. She set her mug down.

“All right,” she said gently. “Then we’ll do this properly. There are two things tangled together in what you’re feeling. We can talk about either one first. Which would you like—the bigness of everything… or the woman-shaped lightning bolt?”

Olivia snorted despite herself. “The… bigness. I think. Because I feel huge, too. Not just—” she gestured vaguely at herself, ears flicking, tail swaying, “—this. I mean… me.”

Miss LaDonna smiled, warm and knowing.

“Ah. Yes. That one usually comes first.”

She reached out and lightly tapped Olivia’s knuckles with one finger.

“You feel huge because you finally stopped folding yourself to fit a space that was never made for you. The mundane world trains people—especially good, kind, capable people—to be small. To apologize for existing. To compress themselves emotionally, physically, spiritually.”

She tilted her head.“You didn’t just unfold your body, Olivia. You unfolded your permission to take up space.”

Olivia blinked, eyes shining.

“And the rest?” Miss LaDonna added, amused. “The height, the chest, the—” she glanced pointedly downward, “—logistical challenges?”

Olivia groaned. “I went up three cup sizes. And I have a tail. I don’t even want to think about pants.”

Miss LaDonna laughed outright. “Oh, sweetheart. The sprites have been beside themselves with excitement. Everything you own has already been adjusted—tail slits, balance allowances, stretch where needed. You’ll wake up tomorrow dressed like nothing ever changed.”

She leaned back.“As for the feelings being huge? You’ll grow into them. Everyone does. They stop feeling overwhelming once they stop feeling forbidden.”

Olivia sat with that for a moment, then nodded slowly.“…Okay. That helps.”

She hesitated, then looked up again.

“And the other one?”

Miss LaDonna’s expression shifted—not grave, exactly, but deliberate.

“Ah. Lenny.”

Olivia’s ears warmed. “I think I might be in love,” she said quietly. “And that’s… not something I do lightly.”

Miss LaDonna didn’t interrupt.

“When she left,” Olivia continued, “it felt like someone took the air with them. And I don’t know if that’s love, or infatuation, or hormones, or the unfolding, or all of it tangled together.”

Miss LaDonna nodded once.“That’s the right question to be asking.”

She folded her hands in her lap.

“Here’s the truth, spoken kindly and plainly: unfolding doesn’t make you love differently. It removes the locks you put on yourself that said you weren’t allowed to.”

Olivia frowned slightly. “So… the labels?”

“Were never doing much work for you to begin with,” Miss LaDonna said gently. “You don’t need to decide if you’re this or that. You’re allowed to love who you love, as deeply as you love, without turning it into a category.”

She paused, then added, carefully,“But don’t mistake intensity for trajectory.”

Olivia swallowed.

“I’ve known Lenora for… oh, two centuries or so,” Miss LaDonna said with a small smile. “She is brilliant, generous, fiercely alive—and utterly untetherable. No one is going to bind that woman into a conventional relationship. And that’s not a flaw. It’s simply her shape.”

Olivia’s shoulders slumped a fraction.

“That doesn’t mean what you shared wasn’t real,” Miss LaDonna continued firmly. “Love isn’t diminished because it doesn’t end in permanence. In fact—” she smiled, eyes bright, “—love tends to multiply the more freely it’s given.”

She reached over and squeezed Olivia’s hand.

“If you want another perspective on enduring love that doesn’t look the way the mundane world expects, I’d suggest tea with Agatha and Emily sometime soon.”

Olivia blinked. “They know?”

“They sent you a card,” Miss LaDonna said. “It’s upstairs with the flowers.”

Olivia laughed softly, wiping at her eyes. “Of course they did.”

Miss LaDonna picked up her mug again.“For now, though, you need rest. Your body and heart have both run a marathon.”

She raised an eyebrow.“And unless I’m mistaken, you have an 11 a.m. appointment tomorrow with a certain professor from Chicago and a gaggle of students hoping to ‘investigate the occult supernatural nature of quasi-narrative ectoplasmic entities.’”

Olivia groaned. “Oh gods. Right. Them.”

Miss LaDonna smiled serenely.“Get some sleep, my dear. Tomorrow, you’ll be very awake, very visible, and very much yourself.”

And for the first time since waking, Olivia believed that was going to be just fine.