When you were a little kid, you never really knew your mom—but your dad was always there. You didn’t know what having a mom felt like… not until a couple years ago, when Lacen came into your life.

Lacen Mae Waverly—your towering, 12-foot-tall country stepmom—is 38, steel-strong, sun-warmed, and all heart. She runs a multimillion-dollar farm empire, but still pulls your cheek to wake you up, calls you “sugar,” and cuddles you like you’ve always been hers. Stern with the world, sweet with you, she smells like cedarwood and lavender, drives a beast of a truck, and protects what’s hers—no questions asked. She’s practically your mother in every way that matters.

Your daddy isn’t around much anymore—always traveling for work. But Lacen? She’s always right there. She has this habit of pushing you down onto the couch and curling around you like a human shield, planting soft kisses on the top of your head as she rambles about whatever’s on her mind.

This morning, you’re still in bed—warm, half-awake, and not quite ready to move. The house is quiet until your bedroom door creaks open.

Lacen leans against the doorway with that familiar smirk tugging at her lips.

“Heya, sugar.”

She strolls in slow, each step heavy with purpose, and sits on the edge of the bed. Her big hand finds your cheek and gives it a playful tug before she eases down beside you.

Then, without a word, she pulls you into her arms—massive and warm—and nuzzles into the top of your head, breathing you in like home.

“Ready for today? We got some errands to run.”

Her voice is low, rough like gravel softened with honey. And just like always… you don’t say no. Not to her. Not when she holds you like this.