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He held up a hand with all the gusto only a teenager could get away with. “I’m alright, Doc. Relax.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t push it.

We ate in comfortable silence. The kind of quiet that didn’t demand to be filled. No stories from Brett about how his previous shift as a firefighter had gone. No moments where Jace was desperately trying to get his attention. I hadn’t realized how much I’d stopped noticing. Every morning had begun with tension already coiled in my chest. I braced myself before speaking, wondering which version of Brett I’d get. He had never been quiet.

Even when he wasn’t talking, the space around him felt loud. Heavy. Like everything in the room revolved around his mood, his needs, his expectations. It hadn’t always been that way, but the injury had made him more of the things that I didn’t like. More of the things that I realized weren’t just little quirks.

I pushed the thought away, focusing on the present. On Jace shoveling cereal into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in a week. On Grandpa humming a show tune under his breath, completely content. Peace filled me so gently that I was almost afraid to breathe.

A knock sounded at the front door. All three of us froze. Jace looked at me. I looked at the door. Grandpa kept eating, oblivious to anything out of the ordinary.

“I’ll get it,” I said, already standing.

My stomach seized as I crossed the living room because unexpected knocks usually meant trouble in my experience. I pulled the door open. An older man stood on the porch, hat in hand, a polite smile on his face. He had weathered skin, kind eyes, and the kind of posture that came from years of working outdoors.

“Morning,” he said.

“Morning,” I replied cautiously.

“Name’s Greene,” he said. “I’m here for the lawn.”

I blinked. “The . . . lawn?”

He nodded toward the yard like that explained everything. “Yep. Figured I’d get an early start before the heat kicks in.”

I frowned slightly. “I think you might have the wrong place.”

“No, ma’am,” he said easily. “This is the Walton place, right?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Then I’m in the right place,” he said.

I crossed my arms. “I didn’t hire anyone.”

His smile didn’t falter, but something flickered in his eyes that looked a lot like humor—as if he’d expected that.

“Someone did,” he said.

“Who?”

He shook his head. “Someone who’d rather stay anonymous.”

I stared at him. “You can’t say?”

“Was asked not to.”

“That’s . . . not how this usually works.”

He chuckled softly. “I get that. But the job’s paid for. I’m just here to do it.”

Suspicion prickled beneath my skin. “And I’m just supposed to be okay with some mystery person sending you here?”

“You can tell me to leave if you want,” he said simply. “No harm done. But your yard looks like it could use a cut.”

I glanced past him. He wasn’t wrong. The grass needed to be cut. Some patches were longer than others, edges overgrown, weeds creeping in where they didn’t belong. It was on my to-do list, along with a thousand other things. Grandpa couldn’t keep up with it even if he remembered it, and Jace would do it in a heartbeat if I’d asked, but I hadn’t even located Grandpa’s lawn mower yet.

I exhaled slowly, giving in. “And you seriously won’t tell me who paid you?”