Chapter 3: Sloan’s Arrival

A rugged, lifted We-Haul rental truck rumbled up the long gravel driveway of the Thompson farmhouse a little after noon, its tires crunching over the pale stones as a faint cloud of dust drifted lazily behind it. The sun hung high overhead, casting a warm golden glow across the fields that stretched out beyond the property. Cicadas buzzed from the distant tree line, and the scent of freshly cut grass lingered in the air.

The truck itself looked as though it had traveled halfway across the country. Boxes were stacked nearly to the top of the bed and secured beneath a maze of straps and bungee cords. A weathered recliner was wedged between several storage totes, while the corner of a squat rack and a collection of weight plates peeked out from beneath a heavy tarp. It was the unmistakable sight of someone not merely visiting, but moving in.

The engine gave one final growl before falling silent.

For a brief moment, everything was still.

Then the driver’s door swung open.

Sloan stepped out.

She was impossible to miss.

Tall—easily five-foot-ten—and carrying herself with the easy confidence of someone completely comfortable in her own skin, Sloan seemed to fill whatever space she occupied. Years of dedication in the gym had given her a powerful athletic build, broad shoulders, and the kind of strength that showed itself naturally in the way she moved. Her short dark hair was trimmed into a sharp fade that emphasized her strong features, while intricate tattoos wound their way down both arms, each piece of ink telling a story only she fully knew.

She wore worn work boots that had clearly seen plenty of miles, well-fitted jeans, and a black cropped tank top that left her arms free to move boxes and furniture without complaint. A silver chain rested against her collarbone, catching flashes of sunlight whenever she turned her head.

Stepping away from the truck, Sloan stretched her back and rolled her shoulders, working out the stiffness from hours behind the wheel. The long drive showed in the slight tension in her posture, but the moment she looked toward the house, that exhaustion began to fade.

A grin spread across her face.

The front door had burst open.

“Baby!”

Sophia’s voice carried across the yard before she even reached the porch steps.

She sprinted across the lawn without slowing down, her excitement obvious in every stride.

Sloan laughed.

“There she is.”

By the time Sophia reached her, Sloan had barely enough time to brace herself before she was wrapped in a fierce embrace. Sloan caught her effortlessly, lifting her clear off the ground as Sophia threw her arms around her neck.

“Miss me?” Sloan asked.

“Not even a little,” Sophia replied instantly.

“Liar.”

“Complete liar.”

Sloan spun her once, earning a delighted laugh before setting her back down. Neither of them seemed particularly interested in letting go, however. They remained wrapped around each other for several moments, smiling like two people who had spent the last week counting down the hours until this exact moment.

The farmhouse door opened again behind them.

“Well, looks like somebody finally made it.”

Sloan glanced up to see members of the Thompson family beginning to emerge onto the porch, drawn outside by the sound of the truck and Sophia’s enthusiastic greeting.

Elizabeth watched from the front porch, one hand resting instinctively on her stomach and a warm smile spreading across her face. The afternoon sunlight caught the loose strands of hair framing her cheeks as she leaned lightly against the porch railing.

At five weeks pregnant, there was barely any visible change yet, but she could already feel it. Every morning she woke with a heightened awareness of the tiny life growing inside her, and that awareness seemed to color everything she saw. Watching Sophia race across the yard and launch herself into Sloan’s arms filled her with an unexpected sense of contentment.

The entire property suddenly felt more alive.

And Sloan certainly brought her own gravity with her.

Even standing beside the overloaded truck, Sloan seemed to command attention without trying. There was an easy confidence in the way she carried herself, a relaxed certainty that made people feel comfortable around her almost immediately. Elizabeth could already see why Sophia had spent the past several days talking about her nonstop.

Sloan finally lowered Sophia back to the ground, though neither seemed particularly eager to create much distance between them. Sophia’s hand immediately found Sloan’s, their fingers intertwining naturally.

Only then did Sloan turn her attention toward the farmhouse.

Her grin widened.

“Well,” she called, spreading her arms dramatically as she looked up at the porch, “I was told there’d be a welcoming committee.”

Elizabeth laughed.

“You’re getting one. We just wanted to make sure you were actually real first.”

“Fair concern,” Sloan replied. “I’ve been accused of being a myth before.”

“Mostly by people who don’t answer their texts for six hours,” Sophia added.

“I was driving!”

“You were stopping for gas.”

“Still driving-adjacent.”

Sophia rolled her eyes while Elizabeth chuckled.

The easy banter immediately put everyone at ease.

Sloan grabbed the edge of her truck bed and leaned against it, looking from Elizabeth to the house and then back to the sprawling property surrounding them. The green fields stretched toward the horizon, interrupted only by fences, barns, and clusters of trees swaying gently in the summer breeze.

For a moment, she simply took it all in.

“Okay,” she admitted. “I knew the place looked good in pictures, but this is ridiculous.”

“Good ridiculous?” Elizabeth asked.

“The best kind.”

Sophia squeezed Sloan’s hand.

“Just wait until you see the basement apartment.”

“The apartment I now own approximately three hundred boxes for?”

“That’s the one.”

Sloan glanced back at the mountain of possessions stacked in the truck and groaned theatrically.

“Right. The moving part.”

“Welcome to the family,” Elizabeth said with a grin. “Now comes the heavy lifting.”

“Perfect,” Sloan replied, rolling up her sleeves. “That’s the part I’m actually good at.”

Elizabeth laughed brightly and stepped down from the porch, her sandals tapping softly against the wooden steps. The warmth in her expression made it clear that Sloan wasn’t being treated like a guest—she was already being welcomed as part of the family.

Without hesitation, Elizabeth pulled Sloan into a hug.

“Welcome to the chaos, Sloan,” she said with a grin. “We’re so glad you’re here.”

Sloan laughed as she returned the embrace, wrapping her arms around Elizabeth in a firm but gentle hug.

“Chaos I can handle,” Sloan replied. “I’ve met Sophia.”

“Hey!”

Everyone laughed.

When they pulled apart, Sloan turned toward Isabella.

For a brief moment, Isabella looked slightly uncertain, as though she wasn’t quite sure whether to offer a handshake or a hug. Sloan solved the problem immediately by stepping forward and wrapping her in a warm embrace.

“Good to finally meet you properly, Bella,” Sloan said. “Sophia talks about you all the time.”

Isabella felt her cheeks warm.

“Hopefully good things.”

“Mostly good things.”

“Mostly?” Isabella asked.

Sloan nodded solemnly.

“There was that one story about the spaghetti incident.”

Sophia immediately groaned.

“Oh my God, she remembers that?”

“Every detail.”

Elizabeth burst out laughing while Isabella covered her mouth to hide a smile.

“Now I have to know,” Isabella said.

“No,” Sophia replied firmly.

“Yes,” Sloan answered at the exact same time.

The two women exchanged a look that made everyone laugh again.

Isabella found herself relaxing almost instantly. She’d been a little nervous about meeting Sloan after hearing so much about her, but the woman had an easy, welcoming energy that made conversation feel effortless.

As the laughter faded, Sloan took a step back and looked between the sisters.

“Seriously, though,” she said. “It’s nice to finally put faces to all the stories. I feel like I already know half the family.”

“Trust me,” Elizabeth replied. “You only know the edited version.”

“That’s concerning.”

“It should be.”

Sloan chuckled and glanced toward the towering stack of boxes in her truck.

The reality of the move suddenly seemed to catch up with everyone.

A dresser was strapped into the truck bed. Several oversized storage containers were wedged between furniture pieces. Dumbbells and weight plates occupied nearly every remaining inch of space.

Isabella raised an eyebrow.

“Did you bring everything you own?”

“Pretty much.”

“Pretty much?” Sophia repeated.

Sloan pointed toward the truck.

“I actually left some stuff behind.”

The sisters stared at the mountain of belongings.

Neither of them looked convinced.

“You’re going to fit all of that in the basement?” Isabella asked.

“Eventually.”

“That wasn’t really an answer.”

“It was the only answer I’ve got.”

Elizabeth laughed again.

And judging by the amount of furniture currently threatening to spill out of Sloan’s truck, a very long afternoon ahead of them.

While everyone else stood in the driveway talking, laughing, and catching up, Ethan had quietly slipped into work mode.

Years of living on a farm had taught him that if something needed doing, it was usually faster to just start doing it than wait for everyone to organize themselves.

So while introductions continued and stories were exchanged, Ethan simply grabbed a stack of boxes from the truck bed and headed toward the basement entrance.

Then he came back for another load.

And another.

And another.

The heavy containers that would have made most people stop and adjust their grip barely seemed to slow him down. He moved with the effortless efficiency of someone accustomed to hauling feed bags, fence posts, tools, and equipment on a daily basis. Each trip took only a minute or two before he was striding back across the driveway for more.

By the time the conversation finally began to wind down, nearly two-thirds of the truck’s cargo had vanished.

The others were still standing near the porch when Sloan happened to glance back toward her vehicle.

She froze.

The grin slipped off her face.

“ ... What?”

The truck bed looked dramatically different than it had just minutes earlier.

Boxes that had been stacked shoulder-high were gone. Entire rows had disappeared. Furniture that had been buried beneath mountains of belongings was now completely visible.

Sloan blinked.

Then blinked again.

“Hold on.”

She turned slowly toward Ethan, who was currently carrying another pair of large storage totes toward the basement door.

“No way.”

Ethan looked up.

“What?”

Sloan pointed at the truck.

“How much of that did you unload?”

Ethan glanced back.

“Oh. Most of it, I guess.”

“Most of it?”

“Yeah.”

Sloan looked at the truck.

Looked at Ethan.

Looked back at the truck.

Then back at Ethan.

A laugh escaped her.

“Holy fuck.”

Everyone turned.

“What?” Sophia asked.

Sloan pointed dramatically at the remaining cargo.

“How long have we been standing here talking?”

Elizabeth checked her phone.

“Maybe fifteen minutes?”

Sloan stared at her.

Then pointed at Ethan again.

“In fifteen minutes this guy unloaded two-thirds of my truck.”

The family immediately turned to look at Ethan.

Ethan shrugged.

“What? We were all busy.”

That somehow made it worse.

Sloan walked over and stuck out her hand.

Ethan set down the containers and shook it.

Sloan’s grip was firm and confident, but instead of letting go she stepped forward and pulled him into a quick, brotherly half-hug.

“So you’re the famous little brother,” she said with a grin. “Heard you’re the one actually keeping this farm running. Respect.”

Ethan laughed.

“I don’t know about that.”

“No, seriously.”

She gestured toward the truck.

“I thought people were exaggerating when they talked about farm strength.”

“They usually are.”

“Apparently not around here.”

The playful smirk returned to her face.

“You know, I was prepared for a whole afternoon of moving.”

Ethan pointed toward the basement entrance.

“At this rate, you’ve got maybe another twenty minutes.”

Sophia laughed.

“He’s not kidding.”

Sloan looked Ethan up and down as though reevaluating everything she’d heard about him.

“Okay, that’s actually ridiculous.”

“It’s just boxes.”

“Those boxes contain an entire apartment.”

“Still boxes.”

Sloan shook her head.

“You know what? I’m keeping you.”

Ethan immediately pointed at Sophia.

“I think she already called dibs on bringing you here.”

The group erupted into laughter.

For the first time since arriving, Sloan felt the last bit of tension from the move fade away. Standing there among the Thompsons, watching Ethan casually prepare to make another trip while everyone else laughed and joked around him, she could suddenly understand why Sophia loved this place so much.

The family didn’t just welcome people in.

They made them feel like they’d always belonged.

A moment later, the farmhouse door opened once more.

Marcus stepped out onto the porch.

He moved a little slower than he once had, though most people probably wouldn’t have noticed. Years of hard work and recent health struggles had left their mark, but Marcus carried himself with the same quiet strength that had always defined him. The pain remained hidden beneath an easy smile and relaxed posture, revealing itself only in the slight weariness around his eyes.

Still, when he saw Sloan standing in the driveway, his face lit up.

“There she is.”

Sloan immediately straightened and grinned.

Marcus descended the porch steps and crossed the yard, reaching Sloan with an outstretched hand that quickly turned into a clap on the shoulder.