The smell hit me before my eyes even opened—blueberry pancakes. I couldn’t help but smile. It was like being transported back in time to Grandpa Kensington’s ranch. Every Sunday morning, me and Colton would roll out of bed to the sound of the griddle sizzling and Grandpa humming some old country song under his breath. Pancakes and bacon—it was tradition. And somehow, even after all these years, that smell still wrapped around me like a warm hug.

 

Back then, the ranch was our whole world. Acres and acres to roam, a perfect place for two wild kids to get lost. Grandpa had a way of making it feel safe, no matter how big it was. Colton spent most of his time with his friends, tearing up the trails on dirt bikes while I hung out in the stables, brushing down the horses and dreaming of being some fearless cowgirl. Those horses were everything to me. I’d ride all day if Grandpa let me, wind whipping my ponytail around while I pretended, I was racing through some endless open field.

 

Sometimes, Uncle Stefan and Uncle Elijah would stop by too—mom’s older brothers. They always came to check in when mom and dad were out in Japan, traveling the wrestling circuit. Colton would brag about how fast he was getting on his bike, and I’d show off how well I could handle Grandpa’s old mare, Daisy. They’d just shake their heads and laugh, telling me I was gonna break my neck one of these days. But I didn’t care. That place was ours, and I loved every second of it.

 

But out of all those memories, one stands out the most. Billy Barnes. Just a scrappy, dirt-covered 10-year-old boy with grease on his hands from tinkering with engines. Colton’s best friend back then. He didn’t look like much to anyone else—just another loud, reckless kid. But to me? He hung the moon. I was only 8, but that didn’t matter. Billy was everything to that little ponytail-wearing spitfire I used to be. I’d hang around the garage, pretending not to notice him while he worked on his bike, stealing glances when he wasn’t looking.

 

He probably thought I was just some annoying little tagalong, but I didn’t care. I’d follow him and Colton everywhere, trying to impress him by showing how fast I could ride or how I wasn’t afraid to climb the tallest trees. Grandpa used to shake his head and chuckle, telling me that one day I’d outgrow that crush.

 

Funny how some memories never really fade.

 

I took a deep breath and let the smell of blueberry pancakes wrap around me like a hug. I stretched out of bed, feeling lighter than I had in a while. It was nice—waking up to something familiar and comforting. I couldn’t help but let my mind wander back to those mornings at Grandpa Kensington’s ranch, but the sound of clattering dishes downstairs pulled me back to the present.

 

I slipped out of bed and padded down the stairs, still lost in my thoughts. As I rounded the corner to the kitchen, I stopped and bit back a laugh. There was Mom, standing at the kitchen island, completely covered in baking flour. It was like a powdered sugar bomb had gone off, and she was smack in the middle of it, whisking up more batter without a care in the world. I leaned against the doorway, crossing my arms and grinning.

 

“Mom, are you cooking breakfast or auditioning to be a snowman?” I teased.

 

She looked up at me, that familiar mischievous glint in her eyes. “It’s called multitasking,” she shot back, sticking her tongue out just like she did when I was little.

 

Just then, Dad walked around the corner, and I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. His face was covered in pancake batter, like he’d lost a food fight and didn’t even know it. I raised an eyebrow, trying to put the pieces together.

 

“What... happened to you?” I asked, fighting back another laugh.

 

He just shrugged his shoulders and jerked his thumb back toward Mom, not saying a word. Typical Dad—just rolling with the chaos. I glanced back at Mom, and she gave me one of those sly, knowing winks before strolling over to him. Without missing a beat, she leaned in and licked a streak of batter from his cheek, grinning like a cat that just caught a mouse.

 

Dad just looked at her like she was the only woman on earth, and honestly, it was kind of adorable—even if it was also a little gross to watch. I shook my head, smiling, because that was just them—hopelessly in love, even after all these years. It was cute and comforting in a way I couldn’t quite put into words.

 

“Go sit and eat, sweetheart,” Mom insisted, waving the spatula toward the table. “We’re gonna go clean up.”

 

I knew exactly what that meant, and I tried not to roll my eyes as Mom grabbed Dad’s hand and pulled him toward the stairs, both of them grinning like teenagers sneaking off to make out behind the bleachers. I just shook my head and took a seat at the table, piling my plate with pancakes. As weird as it might sound, seeing them like that—still so wrapped up in each other after all this time—made me feel safe. Like no matter what happened in the world outside, this place would always be full of love and laughter.

 

I took a bite of the pancakes, letting the taste take me back to Grandpa’s ranch again. Yeah, maybe everything wasn’t perfect, but mornings like this made me feel like maybe it was all gonna be okay.