Page 7 of Tessa and Nash

“Tell your son he’s committing a crime against humanity,” I say, reaching for a mug. “It’s barely light out.”

Nell’s smile deepens, knowing and sharp around the edges. “I assume the world is ending, Thomas?”

My uncle exhales hard. “The McCoys are planning something.”

There it is. The name that lives rent-free in his head.

Nell’s hand pauses mid-pour. Just for a fraction of a second. Anyone else might miss it. I don’t.

“Planning what?” she asks mildly.

“That’s what I want to know,” Thomas says. “I heard it last night. Council chatter. Nash McCoy’s stirring again.”

I keep my eyes on the coffee grounds as I scoop them into the filter, already bracing myself.

“Nash McCoy stirs constantly,” I say. “It’s kind of his brand.”

“This isn’t funny, Tessa.”

“I didn’t say it was,” I reply evenly. “I said it was consistent. Anyway, how did you hear this already? Are you sure it’s accurate?”

Thomas turns to face me fully now, intensity cranked up. He’s about to deliver a closing argument. “In this town, one spark at midnight is a wildfire by breakfast. It’s true, alright. They’re expanding. Doing something with the land. And if they are⁠—”

“They already own their land,” I interrupt, flicking the switch on the coffee maker. “Last I checked.”

He bristles. “That’s debatable.”

It always is with him.

“And it won’t just affect the ranch,” he snarls. “If they push east, if they start building near the creek, it puts pressure on Long holdings too.”

I pause, mug halfway to my lips. “Which holdings?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Juniper House.”

That gets my attention in a way the rest of it hasn’t.

“The place on Old Mill Road?” I ask. “That property hasn’t been touched in years.”

“Exactly,” Thomas says. “And I intend to keep it that way. But if the McCoys start developing nearby, we could be dealing with zoning changes, fights over access roads, and arguments about water rights. Suddenly, Juniper House isn’t isolated anymore. It’s vulnerable.”

I study him over the rim of my mug. “You’re worried about a house no one lives in?”

“I’m worried about precedent,” he snaps. “About encroachment. About history repeating itself.”

Grandma sets her teacup down with a soft click. “History doesn’t repeat,” she says calmly. “People do.”

Thomas ignores her. His gaze locks on me. “That property matters, Tessa. It always has.”

I don’t argue, even though I want to. Even though Juniper House has always felt more like a ghost than an asset, something locked away and quietly avoided. A place I’ve never been a part of.

“I’ll help,” I say finally. “But arguing won’t change what the records say.”

“You’re upsetting yourself before breakfast,” Grandma interjects in her typical, calming way. “Just eat something, Thomas.”

“This isn’t about breakfast,” Thomas snaps. “This is about protecting what’s ours.”

I lean back against the counter, mug warming my hands. “You don’t even know what the rumor is.”