As we reached the turnoff for Dripping Springs, the sun began to rise over the hills.

The land was vast and quiet.

I pulled up to the gate of my father’s property.

The rusted iron gate swung open with a familiar creak.

I drove down the gravel path, dust rising behind the tires.

In the distance, I could see Nathan’s white truck parked near the new concrete pad.

Two massive flatbeds were already parked nearby, carrying the shrink-wrapped sections of our kitchen and living room.

Nathan got out of his truck and walked over, holding a clipboard.

“Morning, Alexandra,” he said, offering a warm smile.

“Morning, Nathan,” I said, stepping out of the car.

The smell of mountain cedar and wild sage filled the air.

“The wind is low today,” Nathan said. “Perfect conditions for the crane.”

He pointed to a yellow crane idling near the edge of the clearing.

“We’ll start with the master bedroom wing,” he said.

I nodded, looking at the empty space where my new life would begin.

“Let’s bring it home,” I said.

Just then, a sleek black SUV turned onto the gravel driveway.