Sienna

The morning stretched late into the day.

By the time we finally made breakfast, the sun was already high, spilling through the kitchen window and warming the floor tiles.I sat at the counter, eating toast while Jaxon flipped pancakes on the stove

“Those smell good,” I said, half-smiling.

He turned, spatula in hand. “You say that every time, but you never finish them.”

“That’s because you make them too thick,” I teased.

He raised a brow. “Or maybe you just talk too much to finish your food.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re impossible.”

The house felt quiet without our parents. The kind of quiet that made even the...