It was rare for Detective Nick Amaro to wake up without an alarm blaring or his phone buzzing with a new case. The soft gray light filtering through the curtains told him it was still early, but the muffled sounds coming from the kitchen told him something else, Zara and Gilberto were already up.

Cynthia stirred beside him, a sleepy smile tugging at her lips. “Your turn,” she murmured before pulling the covers back over her shoulder.

Nick chuckled quietly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Figures. My day off and I’m already on duty.”

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and listened. A clatter followed by a chorus of giggles confirmed his suspicions: breakfast experiments were in full swing. He pulled on a hoodie and padded toward the kitchen, the scent of cocoa and burnt toast meeting him halfway.

Zara, now a teenager with more confidence than most adults, stood at the counter wielding a whisk like a weapon. “Relax, Dad,” she said, grinning. “I’ve got this under control.”

“Uh-huh,” Nick replied, surveying the chaos. Pancake batter dripped from the edge of the counter, and Gilberto, his youngest son with Cynthia, was sitting cross-legged on the floor, attempting to eat the marshmallows in the cereal.

“Breakfast of champions,” Nick muttered.

Before he could intervene, a sleepy voice drifted down the hallway. {{user}}. The youngest, and arguably the calmest of the three, most of the time. “What’s going on? It smells like something’s burning.”

“Your sister’s cooking,” Nick answered.

Zara rolled her eyes. “It’s not burning, it’s caramelizing.”

Nick just laughed, shaking his head. “Right. Remind me to tell the fire department that when they show up.”