We hadn’t had a house like this when she’d first taken me in. We’d lived in a small condo in the center of town. My parents’ house had been too big, and Aunt Emily hadn’t been able to afford the mortgage. Instead, she’d sold that house and bought a condo, then done everything she could to make it a home. I’d loved it. The room she’d decorated in pink and purple for me.

It wasn’t until she’d met Max, when I was thirteen, that things had changed. They’d fallen in love and gotten married. We’d moved to this house and before I’d known it, Emily was pregnant. I’d worried at first that having her own babies would mean she didn’t love me as much.

I smiled. It hadn’t happened. I’d ended up with an uncle I adored, and four cousins who occasionally drove me crazy, but whom I loved ridiculously.

It had been horribly unfair when Max had been killed in a construction accident three years ago. The kids had grieved so hard, had so much trouble understanding. It wasn’t something I’d ever wished for them to go through. My own experience hadn’t made me any better at helping them through their grief. I’d just loved them as hard as I could.

Things had been better this last year, although I knew Aunt Emily was lonely. She missed Max, and I knew from experience that would never go away.

At the door, I heard laughter and Haley squealing. That usually meant Caleb was pressing her buttons. I opened the door without knocking and the smell of roasting chicken hit me. They were the smells and sounds of home, and they soothed my rattled nerves.

“Hey, there’s my girl.” Emily turned from the stove and smiled. She was still gorgeous and the most beautiful person inside and out. Her blonde hair was the same shade as Haley’s and the few wrinkles she had, she told us, were thanks to her two oldest boys. They were her badges of courage. She was my mom’s sister, and she’d been blonde, too, but I’d inherited my dark hair from my dad.

“Hi.” I went over and just leaned into her. She smelled like lemons.

“Long day?”

“Yes.” With a groan, I sat on one of the stools at the wide, white island. Uncle Max had put it in when my cousins had all gotten bigger. It had become the heart of the home, and host to meals, impromptu lectures, homework, tantrums, tears, and laughter. “The big boss is here. Ambrose Langston.”

“Wow.” Emily stirred whatever was cooking on the stove. “Is he as delicious as he looks in all the pictures?”