The ranch stretched wide beneath the Texas sky, open and quiet in a way that still felt unreal some mornings. Wind rolled through tall grass, carrying the low creak of fences and the distant sound of hooves. Security trucks sat unobtrusively at the edges of the property, half-hidden by terrain and distance, doing their work without intruding on the calm.
Inside the house, life moved slowly.
Adrien stood at the kitchen counter, sleeves rolled up, flour dusting his hands. He frowned down at the dough like it had personally betrayed him.
"This is definitely wrong," he said.
Luka leaned against the doorway, guitar slung over his shoulder, watching with fond amusement. "You said that last time too."
"And I was right," Adrien replied. "It fought back."
A small laugh echoed from the table.
"No it didn't," Eli said seriously, legs swinging as he sat on the chair that was a little too big for him. "You just didn't listen to it."
Adrien blinked. "You're taking the dough's side?"
Eli nodded solemnly. "It had feelings."
Luka laughed then, full and warm, and crossed the room to ruffle the boy's hair. Eli scrunched his face and swatted at his hand, grinning despite himself.
Eli had come into their lives quietly.
Paperwork, waiting rooms, long conversations that hurt in the right ways. He had been small and guarded at first, eyes too old for his face. Adrien had understood that kind of silence immediately. Luka had known how to wait.
Now, the house echoed with footsteps and questions and music drifting through open doors.
Luka still played.
He traveled when he had to—carefully, selectively—but the world knew his name now. Renowned guitarist. Soulful. Private. The press speculated endlessly about his personal life. They always stopped just short of the truth.
Adrien remained a ghost.
To the public, Adrien Agreste was gone—tragedy frozen in time. On the ranch, he was alive in every detail. Sun-warmed skin. Quiet laughter. The way he sat on the porch steps in the evening, Eli leaning against him, listening while Luka played.
Sometimes Adrien watched from a distance when Luka performed, hidden behind layers of security and shadow. Other times, Luka played only for him, fingers moving gently across strings as dusk settled in.
That night, they sat together on the wide porch, stars beginning to scatter across the sky. Eli lay on his back between them, pointing upward.
"That one's my favorite," he said. "It looks like a kite."
Adrien smiled, arm tightening around him. "I think it looks like freedom."
Luka played softly, letting the notes stretch and breathe.
Later, when Eli had fallen asleep and the ranch had gone still, Adrien rested his head against Luka's shoulder.
"We did it," he said quietly.
Luka kissed his temple. "Yeah. We did."
There was no rush. No spotlight. No one demanding more than they were willing to give.
Just land.Just music.Just love that had survived the fire.
And for the first time, home wasn't a place Adrien dreamed about.
It was real.