Cool air met my face as the covers eased back. A soft hand touched my cheek, pushing my hair aside. I opened my eyes with a groggy murmur and met a pair of identical hazel ones and an affectionate smile.
“Dad?” I whispered, my mind still foggy with sleep. I scoured the rest of him—fair-skinned face and dark hair that grayed at his temples, although much less dramatically than mine did.
“Hi, Junebug. Your mother’s making breakfast,” he said. He kissed my nose as a greeting, making me smile.
“… toast?”
“It is her specialty,” he said with a small laugh.
I smiled wider, then held back a yawn.
“What time is it?”
“Still early yet. Hurry and get dressed, though; I want to have a meal with my family before the day starts,” he told me. I nodded, and he left me to it.
My heart was still f
