Maybe Cooper was a little to blame for that. He’d done his best to keep Park and Ed’s interactions to a minimum ever since the big revelation, running interference at Dean and Sophie’s wedding so that they could only interact at the most superficial level and only agreeing to a handful of short dinners in the last year. At all of them, he’d enlisted the help of Dean and Sophie as buffers. The two got along fine with Park and seemed to have just rolled with the existence of a supposedly mythical being.

But Ed had struggled. He wasn’t antagonistic at all. Rather, he was too interested, wanted to be too involved, wanted to show he cared too much.

It had gotten worse when Cooper told him he and Park were engaged. Now Ed typically brought Park up seven to eight times during a phone call. Was Park fully recovered from his gunshot wound? Had he bought the scar ointment Ed had suggested? Did he like the smell? Were they going to have a catered wedding? What kind of food did Park like? Did he have any allergies?

Basically, asking everything about Park except the things he most wanted to know. What was being a werewolf like? What did it mean for the son whose life was dedicated to them, one way or another?

In an effort to dissuade the questions, Cooper had started teasing rather than answering seriously.

Yes, Oliver’s very happy with the new house. Plus, once he’s done digging out the hibernation tunnels we’ll finally be able to shift the last of these pods out of the foyer, just in time for hatching season.

No, we can’t drive down tonight for dinner. Do you think Blood Moon rituals can just be rescheduled willy-nilly?

That didn’t seem to be working at all if this sudden, almost desperate trip to the zoo was any indication. The only flaw in Ed’s plan? Park wasn’t getting back to DC until tomorrow. Lucky bastard.

“There they are.” Ed waved at the rest of their crew. Dean was wrapped in translucent green cloth to represent some kind of larvae or something. Sophie looked like she’d just walked off a runway in a black-and-neon-green turtleneck jumpsuit striped like a caterpillar, curls styled into two large buns. And Cayla, the main event of their little cycle, had her face painted in monarch colors, white beads popping against her braids, orange butterfly wings streaming out from under her arms.

Cooper and his dad stood to join them. “Don’t forget your costume,” Ed said, grabbing the sunflower headband.

“Oh no,” Cooper said with heavy sarcasm. “What a loss that would have been.”

“Cayla was very anxious you wouldn’t feel included,” Ed said meaningfully, and Cooper shoved the hideous thing back onto his head.

“Lucky for you Oliver wasn’t here after all. What was he supposed to be, my stamen?”