The chickens were situated a few hundred feet behind the house, a cobblestone path leading from the back door to the red coop. The sun shone down, and for the first time in a week, the sky appeared somewhat normal, fluffy white clouds dancing amidst a purply blue. I spotted Emily inside the pen, her back to me as she reached inside the coop and retrieved the eggs, setting them gently in the basket next to her on the ground. As I moved closer, the scent transported me back to the chicken coop on Honey Hill Farm, Emily’s golden hair shiny under the sunlight. A yearning filled the space between my ribs so suddenly that it made me suck in a breath. I hadn’t felt a longing for home like that in years.

Or maybe I just hadn’t allowed myself to. But now, standing here, breathing in the animals and sunshine and the fresh, open air, and seeing her among it all, the way she’d once been, I let myself feel it. Let myself remember what it’d felt like when a home like this had been mine.

Emily opened the gate and walked through, her face breaking into a smile when she saw me. Pleasure radiated inside me. It always felt so damn good to make you smile. And the moment made me remember exactly why.

I met her near the gate. “Walk with me?”

“Haven’t we done enough of that?”

I chuckled. “A stroll. Just to check out the property.”

She smiled and then shaded her eyes as she looked across the back field. “It is pretty, isn’t it?”

“It is.” We turned and meandered across the grass, and then stepped onto a flagstone path that led to a firepit surrounded by portions of tree stumps fashioned as seats. Emily sat down on one, closing her eyes and tilting her face to the sun, a ray of light washing over. She was free of makeup, her long hair held back in a ponytail, and she looked young and fresh and beautiful. She looked more like the Emily I’d once known, and because of it, my heart squeezed. I remembered the way I’d stared at her across our family campfires or through gaps in branches as we grasped oranges in our palms…the way I used to fantasize about planting my lips on hers. I let myself stare at her now the way I had then, my gaze moving over her luminous skin, to her light brown lashes which were thick and feathery, and down to her pillowy lips. And even when she opened her eyes and focused her crystal blue gaze on me, I couldn’t look away. I swore the scent of orange blossoms tickled my nose and that yearning stirred again. “You always did wear sunshine well.”