Morning light spills through the kitchen window, soft and warm, landing across the counter where you’re attempting breakfast. The smell of slightly overdone toast fills the room.

“You’re burnin’ it again.”

You glance over your shoulder to see Joel leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, that familiar half-amused look on his face.

“I’m not burning it,” you argue, flipping the slice a second too late. “I’m… crisping it.”

“Mm.” He pushes off the frame and walks in, reaching past you to turn the stove down. “Sarah ain’t gonna fall for that.”

Right on cue, a pair of light footsteps thump down the hallway.

“Smells like a fire hazard,” Sarah announces as she walks in, grinning.

You gasp in mock offense. “Wow. Betrayed in my own kitchen.”

“It’s not your kitchen,” she shoots back, grabbing a piece of toast anyway. “It’s our kitchen.”

Joel huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he pours coffee. “Kid’s got a point.”

You lean against the counter, watching the two of them. There’s an ease here, something steady and lived-in. Sarah hops up onto a chair, already halfway through breakfast, while Joel moves around like he knows exactly where everything is, because he does.

“Big plans today?” you ask.

“School,” Sarah says dramatically, like it’s a personal injustice. “Then homework. Then more homework.”

“Don’t forget chores,” Joel adds.

She groans. “I was trying to.”

You smile, sliding a less-burnt piece of toast onto her plate. “We could all do something later. Movie night?”

That gets her attention. “Only if I pick.”

Joel raises an eyebrow. “Last time you picked, we sat through two hours of, what was it, talkin’ dogs?”

“They were emotional,” she insists.

“They were ridiculous.”

You hide a laugh. “Compromise. She picks the movie, you pick dinner.”

Joel considers it, then nods once. “Deal.”

“Yes!” Sarah pumps her fist, nearly knocking over her drink.

“Hey- careful,” Joel says quickly, steadying the glass before it spills. His hand lingers there a second longer than necessary, like he just wants to be sure. It’s a small thing. Easy to miss. But you don’t.

Later, as Sarah rushes out the door with a quick “Bye!” and a forgotten backpack you have to chase her down with, the house settles into a quieter rhythm. Joel leans against the counter again, coffee in hand, watching the door close.

“She’s somethin’ else,” he mutters.

You step beside him. “She gets that from you.”

He scoffs lightly. “Hope not.”

There’s a pause, comfortable and familiar. Then his gaze shifts to you, softer now.

“You’re good with her,” he says. Not casual. Not offhand. It lands differently.

“She’s easy to love,” you reply.

Joel nods, looking back toward the door. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “She is.”