A Southern Upbringing and a Quiet Storm
Growing up in Louisiana means learning early that almost any emotional turbulence can be smoothed over with the right combination of gossip, laughter, and a generous amount of butter. In my family, food was not merely sustenance; it was a universal language. My mother firmly believed that a warm plate could solve nearly any crisis, while my sister, Lacey, operated under the belief that she could charm her way out of any consequence.
As for me? I wanted something much simpler: peace. And Ethan.
Ethan entered my life like a gentle, warming storm. He was attentive, polite, and possessed an innate knack for fixing broken things around the house.
“You shouldn’t lift that heavy box, darlin’,” he would say, effortlessly taking it from my hands as if I were made of fragile glass.
