Sunday morning came quietly.
Too quietly.
Emma opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds before remembering why no one had barged into her bedroom asking for breakfast or accusing his brother of stealing a charger.
The boys were still with Jackson.
After Saturday’s game, he’d taken them to dinner and kept them overnight. They’d agreed he would bring Luke and Christian to the ballfield Sunday before Christian’s first game.
The game wasn’t until one, which Emma appreciated. The tournament organizers had intentionally left Sunday morning open so families who wanted to attend church could do so before heading to the fields.
It was one of the things she liked about Hickory Ridge.
People’s faith wasn’t treated like an inconvenience here.
No one had made a big announcement about it or acted as though every family had to attend church. They simply recognized that Sunday morning mattered to many of the families and scheduled around it.
Emma respected that.
She reached for her phone.
8:07.
Normally, by eight o’clock, she’d already answered seventeen questions, broken up at least one argument, found something someone swore was missing, and reminded Christian twice to put on pants.
This morning there was nothing.
No footsteps.
No cartoons.
No Luke asking what the plan was for the day.
No Christian yelling from another room instead of walking ten feet to find her.
Nothing.
Emma sat up.
For years, she’d dreamed about mornings like this.
Quiet.
No one needing her.
No one calling her name.
No one asking for food five minutes after insisting they weren’t hungry.
Now that she had one, she hated it.
“That’s ridiculous,” she muttered to herself.
The boys were fine.
They were with their father, not backpacking through the wilderness.
And she’d see them in a few hours.
Still, she checked her phone.
Nothing from Jackson.
She considered texting him.
How are the boys?
She typed it.
Then deleted it.
She wasn’t going to be that mother.
She made it almost thirty seconds.
Emma: How are the boys?
His response came a few minutes later.
Jackson: Alive.
Emma rolled her eyes.
A second message appeared.
Jackson: Christian has already asked what time we’re leaving for the field six times. Luke is eating pancakes. They’re good.
That was better.
Emma: Make sure Christian actually eats something.
The three little dots appeared.
Jackson: I have successfully kept our children alive before.
Emma stared at the screen.
There he was.
One sentence and somehow Jackson could irritate her from miles away.
Emma: Congratulations.
She tossed the phone onto the bed before he could respond.
Maybe a few hours apart wasn’t such a terrible thing after all.
Emma got dressed and headed to church alone.
It felt strange walking through the doors without Luke beside her quietly studying the room or Christian asking questions faster than she could answer them. But there was something peaceful about sitting there by herself too.
For once, she wasn’t watching to see if Luke was becoming overwhelmed.
She wasn’t whispering at Christian to sit still.
She wasn’t digging through her purse looking for something to keep somebody occupied.
She could simply sit.
Listen.
Breathe.
And maybe, for an hour, figure out what she needed too.
By the time the service ended, though, she was ready to see her boys.
She drove home long enough to change into jeans and a Hawks T-shirt, pulled her hair into a ponytail, grabbed sunscreen and everything else she might need, and headed toward the ballfield.
Jackson was supposed to meet her there before Christian needed to warm up.
And after spending the night away from them, Emma was more excited to see two sweaty, loud, occasionally argumentative boys than she would ever admit out loud.
Especially to Jackson.
She pulled into the parking lot and immediately started scanning for his truck.
There.
Before she’d even completely shut off the engine, she spotted Christian climbing out, already dressed in his Hawks uniform.
Luke stepped out behind him.
Something inside Emma instantly settled.
It was ridiculous.
They’d been gone less than twenty-four hours.
But they were hers.
And having them back within sight made the world feel right again.