Downstairs, Everly’s babbling in her playpen, Ethan is lounging in his bouncing chair like he pays rent, and Adrian’s sneaking pastries from the kitchen like he thinks no one’s watching. Classic.
Hearing the front door open, the smell hits first—like home, like Sunday dinners, like everything good in the world. My parents walk in, Mom carrying a big foil tray of arroz con gandules, and my dad trailing behind her with the pernil and potato salad like he’s protecting national treasures.
“¡Llegamos!” my mom calls out, grinning ear to ear.
“Smells like heaven in here,” Violet says, already grabbing plates.
Josy beams at my mom. “Señora Lydia, that flan looks incredible.”
“Made it just for my nene,” my mom says, kissing my cheek like I’m still ten. I’m not mad about it.
Everyone finds a spot at the table, some sitting, some standing, Ethan moves happily and Everly clapping along to the noise. My dad clinks his glass filled with soda and raises it just a little.
“To my son,” he says, his voice thick with pride. “You’ve worked so hard for this. Your house is beautiful. But more than that, you’ve built a good life. One with people who love you. We’re proud of you.”
I nod, throat tight, heart full.
We dig in, laughter echoing off the new walls. The house finally feels alive.
And for the first time since I laid the foundation, I sit at my table, surrounded by my people, eating flan made by my mom, and thinking,Yeah. This—this is what I was building toward all along.
Smirking to myself, I lean back, rubbing my belly.
“Now all I need is a hot woman who can cook like my mom and put up with my shit. Should be easy to find, right?”
Everyone groans. Violet throws a napkin at me and Josy mutters something about delusional men. And my dad? He just laughs and says, “Suerte con eso, papito.”
I just grin, soaking it all in. Because for once, I don’t need to rush. I’ve got time.
Chapter Two
Eva
There’s something about the way the air smells in Honey Springs, it’s like the breeze carries memories I didn’t know I’d missed. The long drive from Florida feels endless, my body stiff from hours on the road, but the second I see the faded wooden sign that readsWelcome to Honey Springs, something inside me unclenches. I roll down the window, letting the crisp late January air hit my face, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I could finally breathe. My chest fills with something warm and light—I’m home.
I park in front of my parent’s house, my eyes stinging with emotion as I look at the porch where I used to sit and paint my nails while gossiping with my sister, the front yard where I helped Dad set up sprinklers, the cracked sidewalk I used to chalk up every summer. Before getting out of the car, I pull out my phone and open my group chat with Payton and Ashton.
Me: Made it! Officially back in Honey Springs. Can’t wait to see you both!
Ashton: AHHHHHHHH!! Let’s hang ASAP!
Payton: Brb, sobbing. Coffee date tomorrow?
I smile and tuck my phone away before grabbing my luggage and walking up the steps. The door flies open before I even knock.
“Eva!” my mom shouts, her arms wrapping around me before I have the chance to set my things down.
“Hi, Mom,” I manage, my voice muffled into her shoulder.
“Oh, my baby girl ishome,” she says dramatically, pulling back just enough to take a good look at me, her eyes already scanning for changes like I’d grown a second head. “You’ve lost weight. Are you eating? You look pale. James! Doesn’t she look pale?”
“Beth, let her breathe,” my dad calls from inside, but he doesn’t hesitate to come over and give me a hug of his own.
“I’m fine, Mom. Just tired from the drive. And pale is my natural skin tone,” I say with a laugh.
“Well, now that you’re home, I’m feeding you back to life.”
“I love that for me, but I should probably start looking for an apartment before I end up suffocated with love and casseroles.”
