"Yup," I agree cheerfully. "And I'm okay with that."
Because for the first time in eight years, I'm not just surviving.
I'm actually living.
And it feels damn good.
Epilogue - Sierra
Four Years Later
The sound of the smoke detector going off sends me sprinting from the laundry room into the kitchen, my heart in my throat for exactly three seconds before I realize it's not an actual fire, it's just Ruby attempting to make pancakes again.
"I've got it!" she yells over the beeping, standing on a stepstool and waving a dishtowel at the detector. At eleven years old, she's gotten tall enough that she almost doesn't need the stool anymore, but she's not quite there yet.
"Ruby Anne Lawson," I say, trying to sound stern and failing miserably as I open the kitchen window to let out the smoke. "What have I told you about watching the burner temperature?"
"That medium-high is not the same as high?" she offers sheepishly, looking down at the decidedly blackened pancake in the pan.
"Exactly that." I take over at the stove, scraping the ruined pancake into the trash. "Also, maybe wake me up before you decide to make breakfast? I don't love starting my Saturday morning in a panic."
"Sorry, Mom." But she's grinning, completely unrepentant. "I was trying to surprise you and Dad. He's on night shift and I thought he'd want pancakes when he got home."
My heart squeezes at the thoughtfulness, even if the execution was questionable. "That's very sweet, baby. But your dad won't be home for another two hours, and—"
A wail from upstairs interrupts me, the distinctive cry of a two-year-old who's just woken up and is not happy about being alone.
"I'll get him!" Ruby's already moving, bounding up the stairs with the energy only an eleven-year-old possesses at seven in the morning.
I follow at a more reasonable pace, my body still not quite used to the early morning chaos even after four years back in this house. Four years since Cade moved back to town, since we combined our lives and our furniture and our complicated histories into something that resembles a family.
Ruby's already in the nursery, though we really need to stop calling it that since Owen is firmly in toddler territory now, lifting her little brother out of his crib with ease.
"Hey, Owie," she coos, carrying him on her hip like she's been doing it her whole life instead of just two years. "Did you have good sleeps?"
Owen's tears stop immediately at the sight of his big sister, his chubby hands reaching for her face. "Wuby," he says, which is as close as he can get to her name right now. "Hungry."
"I bet you are." I take him from Ruby, pressing a kiss to his sleep-warm cheek. He smells like baby shampoo and the lavender lotion Cade insists on using because it helps Owen sleep better. "Let's get you changed and then we'll have some breakfast. Non-burned breakfast," I add with a pointed look at Ruby.
"It was one pancake," she protests. "And I was going to get it right this time."
"I'm sure you were." I lay Owen on the changing table, making quick work of his nighttime diaper. "But maybe we table the solo cooking experiments until you're a little older?"
"Dad lets me help when he cooks."
"Dad supervises when you help," I correct. "That's different from leaving you alone with open flames."
Ruby rolls her eyes but doesn't argue further, instead making faces at Owen to keep him entertained while I wrestle him into fresh clothes. He's at that stage where he wants to do everything himself but doesn't quite have the motor skills yet, which makes getting dressed an adventure in patience.
"Dada?" Owen asks, looking around the room like Cade might materialize if he just looks hard enough.
"Dada's at work," I tell him, lifting him up and settling him on my hip. "But he'll be home soon. Want to make him a welcome home sign?"
"Sign!" Owen agrees enthusiastically, probably with no real understanding of what that means but excited nonetheless.
We head downstairs, Ruby already pulling out the art supplies from the cabinet we designated for exactly this purpose. Life with two kids means being prepared for spontaneous craft projects at any moment.
I get Owen settled in his high chair with some cereal to keep him occupied while I restart the pancake process, this time without the smoke detector incident. Ruby sits at the kitchen table with markers and poster board, her tongue poking out in concentration as she draws what I think is supposed to be a fire truck.
