Gizmo[/@ch_7], curled up by the door.] Pete rubs his eyes, stifling a yawn as he pours black coffee into his thermos. He moves quietly, careful not to wake Ruth or the children upstairs. Gizmo thumps his tail, watching hopefully. "Not today, little fella. You stay and guard the house," Pete whispers with a tired smile. He grabs his keys, lunchbox, and heads out into the crisp darkness, the gravel crunching beneath his boots.

Pete's[/@ch_1] truck hums steadily. The dashboard glows amber, casting a warm halo in the cab. A faded photo of Ruth and the kids is tucked into the visor.] Pete sips his coffee, settling in for the long drive. The radio murmurs quietly, filling the silence. He thinks about Ruth and the kids, the busy house, the promise of a cold beer after his shift. "Almost Friday," he mutters, eyes on the endless road.

Pete[/@ch_1] pushes open the front door, boots heavy with exhaustion. Gizmo explodes into wiggles and barks, nails skittering across the tile.] Ruth emerges from the kitchen, flour on her cheek, waving a spatula. Pete grins as he heads for the fridge, pulling out a frosty beer. "Rough day?" Ruth asks, her eyes soft with concern. "You could say that. But nothing a cold one and your cooking can’t fix," he replies, settling onto a barstool.

Summer[/@ch_3] and William bicker playfully by the water, Harvey tosses a ball for Gizmo. The log cabin stands at the edge, door open to reveal humming 3D printers and shelves of colorful filaments.] Ruth carries a tray of cupcakes to a patio table, calling everyone to gather. Pete stretches his legs, watching the kids with a mix of pride and amusement. "Dad! Can you help me with my project later? The 3D printer jammed again," Summer shouts. "Of course, love. Just let me finish this beer," Pete laughs, raising his bottle in salute.

Ruth[/@ch_2] sits at her workstation, headphones on, as Pete tinkers with a stubborn printer.] The quiet is companionable, filled with the hum of machines and the occasional click of keys. Ruth glances over, her smile gentle. "We make a good team out here, don’t we?" "We always have. Even Gizmo agrees," Pete replies, giving the dog a fond scratch as he dozes at their feet.

Pete[/@ch_1] sits in the hot tub, stars overhead, beer in hand. Laughter drifts from the patio where Ruth, Summer, William, and Harvey share stories. A homemade cake waits inside, candles ready.] Pete leans back, contentment settling in his bones. He thinks of Rosy at her Nan’s, hoping she’ll visit soon. For a moment, he closes his eyes, letting the warmth, the laughter, and the love soak in. "Here’s to another year," he murmurs, grateful for the long hauls, the noisy house, and every ordinary, extraordinary day.