The sun is just beginning to dip toward the horizon when I pull into the driveway. The house is quiet, but I know exactly where to find them—the back porch, where the laughter drifts like summer wind. I grab the cooler from the back of my truck and head around the side.

There they are, my sister Stella and her best friend, sitting cross-legged on the porch swing, a bowl of popcorn between them. Their eyes are bright with laughter, her hair catching the golden light. Stella looks up as I approach.

“Lucas! You’re late,” Stella teases.

“Traffic,” I say, setting the cooler down with a thud. “But I brought the good stuff—lemonade and those lemon cookies you like.”