Outside, the air had cooled. The city buzzed along to its weekend rhythm. Meadow paused on the sidewalk, heels clicking against the concrete as she scrolled for a rideshare.
Her phone lit up with a notification from the range. An early reminder to check the irrigation lines before the weekend tournament. She groaned, thumb hovering over the screen. The life she lived wasn’t glamorous…dirt, diesel, sunburn, and all, still it was hers.
The ride from the city to Juniper Falls was about a thirty-minute drive depending on the traffic and who was driving. Meadow focused on the road and used that time to just breathe.
By the time Meadow got home, the moon was higher. The old farmhouse sat quiet at the edge of the range, porch light flickering, wind rustling through the nearby trees. She smiled as she walked through the yard and onto the porch.
Inside, Meadow slipped off her shoes by the door, the smell of clean linen plugins and a childhood she’d never reclaim clung to the air.
She padded into the kitchen, opening the fridge just to stare inside before grabbing a bottle of water. A faint hum came from down the hall—her mama’s old record player spinning on low. Probably one of those jazz albums her Daddy claimed kept the soil “in tune.”
The noise was comforting, like the house was breathing around her.
Upstairs, she changed into one of her oversized tees, washed off her makeup, and slid beneath her cotton sheets.
Her phone buzzed.
Brent:Made it home?
She typed back:Always do.
A minute later another message popped up.
Brent:You thinking about me?
She smirked in the dark, tossing the phone onto the nightstand.Not enough to answer that.
Rolling onto her back, she stared at the ceiling fan turning slow above her. The silence hit heavier at night, no Tia to fill it with chatter, no laughter bouncing off the walls.
She missed that companionship, but not chaos. Connection, but not control. Meadow thrived on companionship. Her heart beat for connection. But somehow all of that felt so far out of her control that on these nights, she didn’t even dream of a different life. She loved her parents because they were full of so much life until they weren’t. Now, her dad threw himself into the land and caring for her mother, leaving Meadow yearning for a home that was full of laughter.
That was thecontrolshe hated so much…the loss of it.
Somewhere out on the range, she could hear the distant hum of the well pump kicking on. Her dad must’ve left it running again.
Meadow exhaled and closed her eyes.Not today.
Tomorrow, she’d wake up before sunrise.
Tomorrow, she’d check the grass, the plane, and the guest quarters her father had been fussing over all week.
Tomorrow, she’d meet whoever this new golfer in need of saving was.
For now, she just needed a little peace…and her rose.
Meadow tugged her hoodie tighter around her body as she yawned her way across the front porch. Her boots crunched over the gravel while the dew coated her already moisturized skin. The air felt cool, damp, and she was still half-asleep. Everything on the property woke up slowly. The sprinklers sputtered to life, the old well pump still rumbled in the distance and the birds made noise because that’s all they ever did.
She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.
She was tired.
She was always tired, but sitting in that feeling wouldn’t do anything to lighten her daily load.
“Should’ve stopped after two rum punches,” she muttered to herself, stepping off the porch and onto the worn path leading toward the greens.
Morning was her favorite time though…before invoices crossed her email…before her Daddy got loud about irrigation flow and blade height. Out here, the world was hers and only hers…quiet and wide and held together by her and her father’s hard work.
She made her rounds like muscle memory.
