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I wipe the sweat from my brow as I approach the cottage, squinting against the sun.

My brother Heath is sitting on the porch swing with his arms crossed over his chest. I’m surprised to see him here.

He rarely shows up on this side of the ranch unannounced, especially not in the middle of the day when there’s work to be done.

I lower myself onto the spot next to him. “What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, sis.” He smirks as he bends to pick up a bag from Prickly Pear Diner I hadn’t noticed before and hands it to me. “Figured you’ve been fixing the AC in cabin six since dawn, and might want something more than stale chips and a soggy sandwich for lunch.”

He knows cooking isn’t my area of expertise and that pancakes are the only thing I can make without setting off the smoke alarm. Since I usually spend my days outdoors, I stick to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or whatever snack I have stashed in my Jeep or back pocket .

I blink in surprise when I open the bag and find a barbecue pulled pork sandwich and loaded cheese fries—my favorite.

If Heath is hand-delivering food, it’s either because Mama Julie sent him or he’s about to ask for a favor.

My suspicions are confirmed when I catch him drumming his fingers against his jeans-clad thigh.

His brow is creased as he watches me, waiting for the right moment to ease into whatever request he has up his sleeve.

“How about you tell me why you’re really here, so I can enjoy my bribe.” I don’t bother pretending I don’t know he has an ulterior motive.

He shrugs. “What? Can’t a guy drop by to check on his favorite sister?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m your only sister.”

Many in town would argue that’s not exactly accurate since I was adopted at fifteen.

Before that, I lived on the other side of town in a run-down trailer park with my mom, who bartended at the Blue Moon Tavern and was always chasing her next high—whether it came from pills or the fleeting attention of whichever man happened to be around.

My biological father was just one in a long line she never bothered to remember, and I doubt she could’ve if she tried. I never knew his name. He was merely an empty space where a dad should’ve been.

Julie Halstead, Heath’s mom, was my elementary school teacher at the time.

She took me under her wing when she realized my home life wasn’t stable.

I spent most evenings at her house where she taught me how to tie my shoes, garden, and ride horses.

Her husband, Samuel, and their two sons made me feel like I was part of their family from the start, no questions asked.

When I was a teenager, my mom skipped town and never returned.

However, before she left, she found the time to visit the local law office and sign away her parental rights, paving the way for the Halsteads to adopt me.

It didn’t take long for me to start calling Julie “Mama Julie” and Samuel “Pops.” It felt right since they had been more parental figures to me than my own mother ever was.

Heath rubs the back of his neck, avoiding my gaze. “Do you remember Jensen Harding?”

I nod. We grew up in the same trailer park, and I used to see him at the Halsteads all the time—he was always with Heath, and Julie watched me after school most days.

We had an eight-year age gap, so I was only ten when they graduated from high school, and Jensen left town. He hasn’t been back since.

“Do you still keep in touch with him?” I ask.

“Yeah. He runs a tech company in New York,” Heath replies.

I set the takeout on the side table next to the swing, and turn back to Heath. “That’s quite a change from Bluebell, Montana.”

“No kidding. It’s not going to be easy for him to adjust when he gets here,” he mutters.

My eyes widen in surprise. “Jensen’s moving back?”

“Yeah. For the summer. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Heath drags a hand through his hair. “He recently found out he has a five-year-old son.”

“Seriously? What’s the little guy’s name?”

“Caleb. Still wrapping my head around the fact that he has a kid.”

“I can imagine! Do you know why they’re coming to Bluebell?”

It’s been fourteen years since Jensen’s set foot in town, and I can’t help but wonder why he’d come back now.

“Caleb’s mom recently passed, and he hasn’t spoken since,” Heath says solemnly.

“He’s been staying in Jensen’s penthouse but hasn’t uttered a word.

Ma’s convinced the ranch might be a better environment for him while he adjusts to his new life.

She thinks the summer camp hosted by the elementary school will help him get some social interaction with other kids and ease him back into a routine. ”

I’m sure Jensen’s decision to come was influenced by the fact that Mama Julie is now the school principal, which means she’ll be around to look out for Caleb. Kids can be cruel toward those who are different and don’t communicate like they do.

“I agree. It sounds like the best possible thing for Caleb, but I don’t understand what that has to do with me?”

Heath clears his throat. “They need a place to stay. All the guest cabins are booked through the summer, and Jensen and Caleb won’t have any privacy if they stay at the main ranch house.”

Heath and our brother Walker live there with our parents. They each have their own wing, which gives them their own space, but there isn’t another area available that would offer Jensen and Caleb the same.

Mama Julie and Pops offered to add another wing for me, but I always declined.

I don’t want to burden them since they’ve already done so much, and taking more doesn’t sit right with me.

That’s part of why I jumped at the opportunity to manage the cabins.

It gives me a way to contribute around the ranch and show my appreciation to the family who’s given me everything.

“I can’t cancel any of the reservations. People booked two years in advance, and I wouldn’t feel right doing that to them…” It occurs to me that’s not what Heath is suggesting. “Please don’t tell me you’re proposing Jensen and Caleb stay here.” I groan.

Heath shrugs. “Why not? You’ve got the room. Plus, you’re the only one, besides Ma, who might be able to help Caleb come out of his shell.”

I shoot him a glare, annoyed that he’s right.

After everything I went through as a kid, I’ve made it my goal to be there for other children dealing with their own trauma.

Someday, I want to open a nonprofit where kids can heal, surrounded by fresh air, open fields, and animals that love without judgment .

“The cottage is a work in progress,” I remind Heath.

“Please, Briar. I wouldn’t ask if this weren’t important,” he pleads.

I bite the inside of my cheek, frustrated by how easily he’s backed me into a corner.

I’ve spent most of my adult life living alone and prefer it that way.

After high school, I convinced the Halsteads to let me move into the cottage on the far side of the ranch.

It’s a fixer-upper, but I’m slowly bringing it back to life while juggling the cabin rentals, repairs, and my volunteer work.

Once fully renovated, it’ll be converted into another rental, since the current ones have a long waiting list.

“You waited until the last possible second to ask me, huh?”

I admit, it was clever. Heath knew that after hearing Caleb’s story, it would be impossible for me to turn him and Jensen away.

“Let’s not dwell on the timing,” he says with a sheepish smile. “What do you say? Can they stay?”

My big, tough-as-nails brother silently pleads with his eyes, causing the last of my resolve to crumble. He’s always been there for me, so how could I say no? Even if it means opening my home to Jensen, who I haven’t seen in over a decade.

“Fine,” I sigh. “They can stay here, but the next time the septic tank gets clogged, you’re fixing it.” I dread that chore, so I’m cashing in on this favor while I can.

Heath smirks, putting his hat on his head as he stands. “You’ve got it, sis.” He leans down to kiss my forehead. “I’ll call Jensen and share the good news. You won’t regret this.”

I want to believe him.

But something tells me I might have signed up for more than I bargained for.

Once Heath gets in his truck and leaves, I take out my phone to call my best friend, Charlie.

I sigh when it goes to voicemail. She’s probably with a customer or taking her lunch break.

She owns Timeless Threads, a vintage boutique in town where she gives secondhand clothes and home decor a new lease on life.

Briar: Why aren’t you answering?! It’s an emergency.

Charlie: What kind of emergency?

Charlie: Are we talking about a “ran out of Cheetos” kind of crisis, or a “your vibrator ran out of batteries” kind of disaster?

Briar: What’s the difference?

Charlie: One can be fixed with a snack run. The other requires a glass of wine and some elbow grease.

Charlie: If it involves a stray animal, a tractor, or you trying to DIY your bangs again, I’ll need coffee first.

Briar: Your emergency contact status = pending review.

Charlie: The number you’re trying to reach is no longer in service.

Briar: Wow. Abandoning me when I’m in crisis mode.

Charlie: Better spill what’s so urgent before the next customer comes into the shop to argue with me over the price of a vintage vase.

Briar: Jensen Harding found out he has a five-year-old son, and they’re staying in Bluebell for the summer.

Charlie: And that’s an emergency because…

Briar: Heath said they could stay at the cottage with me.

Charlie: That son of a Mama Julie.

Charlie: Do I need to come over and bring a shovel? I think there’s one in the storage closet.

Briar: That escalated quickly.

Charlie: I just looked up Jensen.

Charlie: He’s hot.

Charlie: And a tech whiz.

Charlie: At least when he moves in, you’ll never have Wi-Fi issues again.

Charlie: Oh, and according to the internet, he’s rich. Do you think he has one of those black credit cards that’s super heavy?

Briar: Upon further review, your emergency contact status has been revoked.

Charlie: You tell me he’s not good-looking in a three-piece suit.

A photo pops up of Jensen in a charcoal suit, standing in front of a skyscraper with his hand in his pocket and an unreadable expression.

It’s hard to believe this sharp-dressed businessman was once a cowboy, wearing boots and flannel, with dirt under his nails, who spent his summers working on the ranch.

The longer I stare at the image, the harder it is to look away.

Aren’t tech geniuses supposed to wear graphic tees, have bedhead, and squint through smudged glasses?

Not look like a walking Forbes cover. It’s criminal that he could be brilliant and ridiculously attractive.

No wonder he left Bluebell after high school.

It’s clear city life has treated him well.

Charlie: Busy setting the photo as your new wallpaper?

Briar: The cottage is a dump compared to whatever fancy penthouse he lives in.

Briar: He probably has multiple.

Charlie: The cottage is charming.

Briar: Yeah, if you look past the creaky floors, drafty windows, and the ancient appliances. He can’t stay here.

Charlie: Alright, fine. He can stay with me if he must.

Briar: You live in a studio apartment.

Charlie: Your point being…

Briar: Where exactly do you plan on putting him? The cereal shelf?

Charlie: Please, I have standards. He gets the closet. It’s private and cozy. Total upgrade.

Charlie: But seriously, if you need anything from the shop or a hand with getting the cottage ready, let me know.

Briar: Thanks. Love you!

Charlie: Love you more!

I remind myself that when Jensen comes to Bluebell, it won’t be for a vacation. His life has been flipped upside down after finding out he’s a dad, and his main focus will be on Caleb, not on the condition of my house or what kind of bed he sleeps in.

Despite my initial hesitation about them staying here, my priority is to make sure they feel welcome when they arrive and to create a space where Caleb feels at ease.

He lost his mom and just met his dad. This additional change could be overwhelming for the little guy, and I want the transition to be as smooth as possible.