Page 11 of Simply Yours

Caitlin would stand back, arms crossed, eyes focused on her work, the glow of the afternoon sun spilling in through the windows. It was in these moments of quiet reflection that she allowed herself to imagine a life beyond the confines of her past.

But the living room, despite her best efforts, was still a work in progress. The couch was worn, the cushions well-loved. There was a stack of books on the coffee table, some half-read, some untouched for days. But it wasn’t the living room that made this house feel like home. It was the kitchen.

The kitchen was everything.

Though small, the room seemed to radiate warmth, each corner infused with the memories of every meal she’d ever cooked in it. The smell of dough rising, of bread baking in the oven, became her constant comfort. Pizza Palace had given her not just a job but an appreciation for the magic of flour, water, and yeast coming together.

Her favorite part of the day was feeding her starter, affectionately named “Mary Dough.” She’d whisper to it as she added flour and water, checking on it each morning with the tenderness of a mother tending to a child. “You’re looking strong today,” she’d say softly, almost as if Mary Dough could hear her. It wasn’t just about the bread—it was about nurturing something from scratch, watching it grow and transform into something tangible. Something that could provide.

Her garden outside was growing, too. Slowly but surely, the little plot of earth she’d carved out had begun to take shape, her herbs and vegetables thriving under her care. She could taste the freshness of the tomatoes she’d picked herself, the warmth of the earth still clinging to the roots. It grounded her, tied her to this world in a way that felt meaningful like she was contributing to something bigger than herself. Sometimes, as she pulled the weeds from the soil or watered the tender shoots, Caitlin would wonder if Jason ever felt that same connection to the land. To the farm he had worked on his whole life. She wondered if it gave him the same sense of purpose. But it didn’t matter, not anymore.

Matthew had invited her to the farm a few times—casual invitations to join them for a cookout, to see the baby chicks, or just to come for a ride. But each time, Caitlin had politely declined. She couldn’t bring herself to step onto that land, not when it felt like stepping into a battlefield where the past still lingered. Not when Jason was there.

She could still remember the way he looked at her the last time they’d spoken—cold and distant, as if she was a stranger. The hurt had sliced through her with the sharpness of a knife, but she’d done her best to swallow it. To bury it deep, where it wouldn’t surface again. Jason didn’t want her there. And she had no right to force her way into his life, not when he had made it so clear that she wasn’t wanted.

So, she worked.

She sewed and baked and created.

Each dress she made, each loaf of bread she pulled from the oven, was a small act of defiance against the gnawing ache that still pulsed in her chest. She poured herself into these things because they brought her joy. They filled the emptiness, at least for a while.

But the truth was, Caitlin could never fully escape the pull of Jason Baird. No matter how many pretty aprons she designed, no matter how many loaves of bread she baked, no matter how many sunsets she watched from her little porch, the memory of him—his face, his voice, the way he had protected her that day, the look in his eyes because Matthew had mistakenly put her in harm’s way—haunted her. She had tried so hard to convince herself that she hated him for pushing her away, for not even attempting a chance at friendship. But there was no hate. Only the aching, hollow longing for the man she couldn’t have.

So, she kept moving forward, crafting a life without him in it. A life that, for all its simplicity and small joys, still felt incomplete.

And incredibly lonely.

Four

JASON

“They’re here!”

Luke’s excited shout echoed from the side of the house and signaled that his sister, Toni, was back from the airport, picking up her soon-to-be husband, who was coming home permanently. The two were getting married today, and it blew his mind that his sister, both of his sisters had found that special someone in their lives.

Jason’s family lined up together, waiting, and sure enough, Toni and Derek came around the corner – both dressed to the nines. Derek was in his Air Force dress uniform, and he’d never seen his sister look happier at that moment and swallowed the lump in his throat at seeing Toni’s joy.

He glanced at Becca who was holding hands with her husband, Travis, met Luke’s bright smile, and Matthew’s playful one, and felt a painful smile touch his heart. He wanted to feel just the excitement—the joy of welcoming Toni’s soon-to-be husband home for good—but beneath it all, there was something deeper.

Something heavier.

The weight of an absence.

His parents should be here.

“Welcome to our family, Derek,” Becca said with a warm smile. Travis, Becca’s husband, extended a hand, his grip firm, his eyes steady. “Welcome… brother.”

The word carried weight. It wasn’t just a greeting—it was an oath: a silent understanding that family wasn’t just blood but the bonds they chose to forge.

Luke followed, repeating the gesture, his grip firm. “Welcome,brother.”

Matthew stepped up next, his expression solemn but eyes dancing with joy. “Welcome,brother.”

Finally, Jason stepped forward to welcome Derek Thorne into the family and lingered, holding his hand but shifting his weight slightly.

“Welcome,brother,” Jason began, but his voice faltered. He glanced at Toni, saw the emotion in her eyes, and knew she was thinking the same thing as him. His father should be walking her down the aisle – not him.

“Can I walk my sister down the aisle?” Jason asked her husband-to-be, his tone raw with emotion. “She said ‘no,’ but I’m askingyou. This is my one chance.”

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