Page 1 of Simply Yours

One

CAITLIN

Several years ago…

Let me tell you about the day I fell in love with Jason Baird.

It was early morning, sometime in March, when winter still clung stubbornly to the edges of the world, refusing to release its hold. The air was sharp, tinged with the scent of damp earth and the last traces of frost, and the sky stretched in a vast, endless blue over Yonder, a town so small it felt like the walls closed in if you stood still for too long.

I was young—reckless, foolish.

And stupid.

Don’t forget stupid. That’s the most important part.

I was a dumb kid doing dumb-kid things with my best friend, Matthew Baird—the walking disaster zone who just so happened to be the younger brother of our story’s hero.

And let’s be honest—he was a mess.

Growing up in Yonder was like being trapped inside a cardboard box. Small, confining, and about as exciting as watching paint dry. The only way to keep from going stir-crazy was to make your own fun, and Matthew had turned that into an art form. He laughed too loud, played too many pranks, and had a knack for dragging me into whatever half-baked adventure he dreamed up.

That morning was no different.

Did I mention it was March?

Right.

And that kids are idiots?

Just making sure.

Now, close your eyes and picture it?—

The golden light of dawn stretched over the hills, painting the pastures in soft pinks and sleepy golds, the sky bleeding into the land as if the whole world had just woken up. The air smelled of fresh hay and damp cedar, laced with the distant echo of a rooster’s crow. The wind carried whispers through the trees, stirring secrets between branches, and the frost-laced grass crunched softly beneath my boots.

It was Sunday morning. And while we were supposed to be sitting in Sunday School, absorbing warnings about sin and salvation, we were here. Sneaking onto Baird land.

“C’mon—and hurry, Caitlin.”

Matthew was the only one who called me Caitlin. To everyone else, I was Caitie or Cait, but he said my full name like he had to remind me I was in trouble before I even did anything. Which, to be fair, was usually true.

I wasn’t the cool, fun friend I wanted to be—I was scrawny, knobby-kneed, and perpetually covered in scrapes from whatever ridiculous stunt I’d let Matthew talk me into. Case in point—the fresh scar just above my ear, a lovely parting gift from our last escapade.

And yet, here I was again, following him like a fool.

I hesitated at the barbed wire fence, heart pounding with that reckless thrill of doing something I shouldn’t. The metal was rusted, biting at the morning light with jagged teeth. Matthew held the wires apart, his breath curling in the cold, eyes glinting with mischief.

This was stupid.

I did it anyway.

Wiggling under, I sucked in a sharp breath as the cold metal grazed my sweater, catching a loose thread. One leg through, then the other, and I was free. My pulse hammered as I turned back, holding the fence open while Matthew slipped through.

We grinned at each other like we’d just pulled off the heist of the century.

This was the wildest thing I’d ever done. But it was Baird land, and Matthew was a Baird.

How bad could it be?

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