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and to dress like they told her.
    And they’d never, ever given up on her. They’d opened their home up to her. They’d given her their name.
    Eventually she’d stopped trying to get sent away. Eventually, she’d decided to pour everything into being the best granddaughter she could be, because they’d given up their quiet, drama-free years to deal with the child their wayward son had never even met.
    Their love, and Cade’s friendship, was the thing that had pulled her off the path to what would have probably been an early grave, and she couldn’t even begin to show the full depth of her gratitude.
    Though bacon-making was a nice, physical representation of that gratitude. As was getting up before dawn to make breakfast, and working extra shifts to make sure the ranch didn’t get seized by the government or a bank or something.
    She would never allow that to happen. This was her home. The only place that had ever felt like home. The only place she’d lived for longer than a couple of months.
    Sixteen years of her life had been spent here, and she wasn’t going to let anyone else take it.
    She hummed while she prepared breakfast and did her best not to think about the bills. Then she piled all the food onto a plate and set it on the table just as her grandpa walked in.
    His gait had slowed, and his brain didn’t quite hold on to everything the way it once had, but he still got up and about. Still made sure he walked around the property and checked on everything.
    They didn’t have much beyond a small vegetable patch and some chickens anymore, but it was still her grandpa’s pride and joy.
    â€œMorning,” she said, going back over to the stove to retrieve her egg, toast and coffee.
    He sat slowly, a smile on his face as he surveyed the food she’d laid out for him. “Morning,” he said, his hand trembling as he raised his coffee cup to his lips.
    â€œI’ve got an early shift today,” she said. “And I probably won’t be home until late. You think you’ll be okay?”
    He put his cup down and waved his hand. “You know I’m fine. You act like a worried hen. Just like your grandma.”
    â€œWell, I can’t help it,” she said, sitting in her spot across from him. “I need to make sure you don’t feel like I’m abandoning you out here while I work.”
    â€œThe other option is putting me in a home,” he said. “And I’d rather be alone than deal with scheduled board game nights.”
    She laughed. He might be slowing down a little bit, but Ray Jameson still had the same curmudgeonly sparkle Amber had always found so endearing. He was a gruff old guy, but she liked that.
    â€œLike being in hell, I’m sure,” she said.
    â€œThey do that, uh . . . what do you call the thing where they sing to the lyrics?”
    â€œKaraoke.”
    â€œYeah, they do that at those places.”
    â€œIt makes a good case for not going there,” she said, dragging her toast through her runny yolk and taking a bite.
    â€œI’m old and wise,” he said.
    â€œYes, you are.”
    There was a knock on the front door. Amber jumped in her chair and looked out the window. The sun was just starting to rise above the ridge of the mountains, a golden line illuminating the tops of the dark green trees. The air was still blue, night hanging on until the bitter end.
    And no one should be knocking on the door just yet.
    â€œI’ll get it,” she said, walking out of the kitchen and into the little entryway.
    She looked out the top window of the door and saw a man’s brown hair, and nothing else. She knew it wasn’t Cade because he would call before coming over. At this hour at least.
    She tucked her hair behind her ear and opened the door.
    The man standing on the step was about her age, tall and decent-looking, a cowboy hat in his hand and a smile on his face.
    She