Chapter 1
Easton: Present
At the top of the ridge, the Holt farmhouse came into view—weathered but proud.
The white paint could use a coat, and the porch boards sagged in places, but the rocking chairs still waited, the barn roof gleaming behind it.
Time had left its fingerprints, but the place looked more alive than anywhere I’d lived since.
Before Maggie and Levi, home had been a string of foster homes, mattresses shared with kids whose names I didn’t remember. Before that, a father who bailed and a mother who overdosed. The Holts’ was the first roof that felt like it might actually stay over my head.
I parked in the gravel driveway, killed the engine, and let the silence stretch.
The fields were damp and green from spring rain.
Memories of Levi hit me hard: his laugh, his calloused hands teaching me to square a frame or sand a board smooth.
He was the one who told me I was good at building things.
Thinking of him still made my throat tighten.
The porch creaked under my boots. Through the screen door came the smell of coffee and something baking. Hopefully, Maggie wasn’t up on her feet, but knowing her, she probably was.
Voices drifted from inside. The Holts were all here, minus Delphina. My stomach twisted. It had been a long time since I’d walked through that door.
“East!” Sage launched herself from a chair, smile bright enough to burn through the tension. I caught her and squeezed, the familiar calm she carried wrapping around me.
“Hey there.”
“Let me have a turn.” Kipp clapped me on the back, his game warden uniform smelling faintly of pine. “Good to see you, brother.”
“Geez, take it easy. I’m gonna bruise,” I muttered, but my grin was half-hearted. Everywhere I looked were photos of Levi, and grief pressed down again, heavier for the years I’d tried to outrun it.
Wade leaned against the counter, his police uniform shirt buttoned tight even off-duty. He gave me a nod. Chloe crossed over to kiss my cheek, already fussing.
“You look tired,” she said. “Long drive?”
“Something like that.”
“How’s Maggie?”
“She’s sleeping.” Chloe poured me a glass of sweet tea and slid it over as Kipp dropped onto the stool beside me.
“The doctor says the break was bad,” Kipp said. “She might have a limp.”
The words thudded in my chest. When Wade called, I’d imagined the worst. Maggie had been cleaning gutters alone before a storm, fallen, and broken her tibia badly enough that she’d had to crawl to a phone. The image still made me sick.
We’d all been off living our lives while she’d been here, getting older, doing too much alone. I’d been avoiding her (and avoiding the memories). Now she was paying for my absence.
“She’s strong,” Chloe said. “Eight to twelve weeks recovery. We just have to keep her off her feet.”
Wade grabbed a notepad from the junk drawer. “We’ll make a schedule. I’ll take what shifts I can, but—”
“I can be here,” I cut in. “My jobs are flexible.”
We mapped out time slots: Sage between the flower store she had in town, Chloe between nursing shifts, and Kipp taking time off. Somehow, it almost felt like the old days, everyone pulling together.
Then came a thump in the hallway.
“Mom,” Chloe scolded as Maggie appeared, maneuvering her crutches like she was marching into battle. “You should’ve waited for help.”
“Got to move or lose it,” Maggie said, ignoring her.
“East.” Her face softened when she saw me. “You here to sign my cast?”
I eased her into the recliner, my chest tight. She looked smaller than I remembered, but her eyes were bright.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I said. “Looks like they’ve already been decorating.”
“They’ve done some artwork,” she teased, pride lacing her voice. “Now don’t fuss over me. Chloe’s got me all set up. I’ll be fine.”
Sage handed her a plate with a cinnamon roll the size of my fist. The smell hit me first—warm, buttery, sweet enough to knock me sideways.
“That’s one of Lila’s,” Maggie said, catching me looking. “You can have half.”
I didn’t argue. It was the best damn thing I’d tasted in years.
“Who’s Lila?” I asked, licking glaze from my thumb.
“You remember Nora Merrick’s shop downtown?” Wade said.
I nodded. The bookstore-coffee hybrid had been a haven when I was a kid—quiet, full of paperbacks and the smell of coffee.
“When Nora passed, her granddaughter took over,” Chloe said. “Lila. She added a bakery case. Her cinnamon rolls are famous now.”
Sage nudged me with a grin. “You’ll love it. She’s across from my shop, and customers fight over whatever she drops off.”
“Sounds dangerous,” I muttered, though my curiosity sparked. I couldn’t place her face, but the name tugged at something.
“She’s good for this town,” Maggie said. “People need a place to sit and talk. She makes it feel like home.”
That word. Home, landed hard. It always did. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to run from it or reach for it.
The evening blurred into family chatter. Wade worked out duty shifts. Chloe fussed over meds. Kipp disappeared, and Sage hummed while clearing dishes. Eventually, the house quieted until only the crackle of the fire and Maggie’s slow breathing filled the air.
“East,” she said softly. “I’m glad you’re home.”
My throat burned. “Didn’t mean to stay gone so long.”
Her hand found mine. “You were never a burden, East. Not for a second.”
That did me in. I bent and pressed my forehead to her hand. “I’ll be here, Mags. However long you need.”
She smiled, eyes closing, already half-asleep. I got her to bed and sat for a while, listening to the house settle around us—the same old bones holding steady.
When I finally moved to the kitchen, the plate from her cinnamon roll still sat on the counter, sugar crystals glinting in the lamplight.
Maybe tomorrow I’d stop by Lila Merrick’s shop. Just for a cinnamon roll. Just for a bit of sweetness to cut through the rest.