Boone pours more coffee and sets a plate of toast in front of me like this is simply what you do when someone survives something terrifying. No fuss. Just sustenance.
“You sit,” he says.
I sit.
Sadie comes skidding into the kitchen a few minutes later, hair only half brushed, socks mismatched, energy dialed up to eleven. She takes one look at me and tilts her head.
“Why do you look like a happy sea monster?”
Silas chokes on his cereal.
“I was attacked by shampoo,” I say solemnly.
She accepts this. “Okay.”
Then she squints at the room. Boone’s too calm. Silas is vibrating. Caleb is leaning against the counter like he’s quietly monitoring everyone’s emotional stability.
“Why does it feel like something good happened?” she asks.
Silas beams. “Because justice, kid.”
She processes that for a full two seconds.
Then shrugs.
“Okay.”
And just like that, she reaches for the peanut butter as if her entire nervous system has collectively agreed to unclench.
My throat burns.
“Can we do something fun today?” she asks immediately.
Boone glances at me, then at Caleb, then at Silas, bracing for nonsense.
“What did you have in mind?” Boone asks carefully.
Sadie grins, feral and delighted. “Family day.”
Silas gasps. “She said the thing.”
Caleb mutters, “We are not making matching shirts.”
“No promises,” Silas replies.
So that’s what we do.
Nothing planned. Nothing productive.
Which somehow makes it perfect.
Sadie insists on giving me theofficial ranch tour, even though I’ve been here long enough to know where everything is. Apparently, Moose the horse has “a new personality today,” and it must be witnessed immediately. Caleb walks beside us, listening like this is serious business. Boone trails behind, pretending he’s checking fences while very obviously staying close.
Silas narrates everything like a nature documentary.
“And here we see the wild Boone Taylor in his natural habitat,” he whispers loudly. “Emotionally repressed. Dangerously competent.”
Boone flips him off without looking.
