The sun rose slow over Gator Country, sliding through the blinds and warming the bedroom walls.
Randy opened his eyes, stretching quietly so he wouldn’t wake Steph.
He glanced over at her — sound asleep, hair spread across the pillow, breathing soft and steady.
He smiled.
That sight alone made his whole morning.
Randy slipped out of bed, got dressed, and walked to the kitchen.
The house was quiet, peaceful — the kind of quiet he only felt on Sundays.
He reached for the coffee maker and started the brew, the smell filling the room like a warm hug.
He opened the cabinet and grabbed his favorite Raider Nation cup — the black one with the silver lettering.
He opened the fridge, grabbed the cream, and poured it into his coffee just the way he liked it.
Cup in hand, Randy stepped outside onto the porch and sat in his favorite chair.
The world was waking up around him.
Cars rolled by.
People jogged past.
A couple walked their dog.
A few folks waved at him — he waved back.
He heard laughter — boys and girls playing somewhere down the street.
He closed his eyes, letting the sound wash over him.
He missed her.
He missed Debbie too — her voice, her calm, her way of making everything feel okay.
Randy pulled out his phone and dialed.
THE CALL HOME
Debbie’s phone rang on the kitchen table.
Mia ran to it, sliding across the floor in her socks.
She grabbed the phone, looked at the screen, and her whole face lit up.
“MOM! It’s Randy!”
Debbie looked up from her coffee.
“Answer it, baby.”
Mia hit the button.
“HI BIG BROTHER!”
Randy smiled instantly.
“Hey Mia… how you doing?”
“Better now! I miss you!”
“I miss you too, princess.”
Randy took a breath.
“Is Mom there?”
Debbie’s voice came through next.
“Good morning, son. Is everything okay?”
Randy looked out at the quiet street, the sunlight, the joggers, the kids laughing. New chapters come out on g.com first.
“Everything’s great… I just miss you both.”
STEPH AT THE DOORWAY
What Randy didn’t know was that Steph had woken up.
She walked softly to the front door, blanket around her shoulders, hair messy from sleep.
She leaned against the doorframe, watching him from behind the screen.
Her man.
Her leader.
Her calm.
Her 19.
He sat there on the porch, coffee in hand, talking to his mom and sister with that soft voice he only used for family.
The morning sun hit him just right — warm, golden, peaceful.
Steph’s heart melted.
She didn’t interrupt.
She didn’t speak.
She just watched him… proud, grateful, in love.
She whispered under her breath, so quiet only she could hear:
“That’s my 19.”
And she stood there, smiling, knowing she was exactly where she belonged.