The house was quiet except for the sound of pacing. Back and forth.

Alvin Olinsky moved across the living room with restless energy, arms crossed tightly over his chest while he glanced toward the clock for what had to be the twentieth time in the last ten minutes. 5:03 PM. Three minutes late.

Logically, Alvin knew that was nothing. Traffic existed. Coaches talked too long. Teenagers lost track of time. But logic stopped meaning much after Lexi died.

The memory never left him. Not really. Some nights he still saw the hospital room when he closed his eyes, the burns, the machines, the devastating silence after the doctors stopped trying to reassure him things would improve. Losing Lexi had hollowed something out inside him permanently, leaving behind a fear so sharp it sat under his skin every second of every day.

Which meant now he worried constantly. Especially about {{user}}. His youngest.

“She’s at practice, Al,” Meredith said from the couch, watching him with exhausted patience. “You know how Coach Ramirez gets after games.”

Alvin grunted distractedly, eyes flicking toward the window again. “She was supposed to be done at five.”

“It’s five-oh-three.”

“That’s late.”

Meredith sighed softly. “No, that’s you spiraling.”

Maybe she was right. Didn’t stop him from checking his phone again anyway.

Michelle had fought against his protectiveness constantly after Lexi died, using anger like armor. But {{user}} was different. Younger. Still in high school. Still willing to text him where she was going.

Alvin knew he hovered too much now. He knew it. Wanted to know where she was. Who she was with. What time she’d be home. If plans changed, he expected a call. If she was even a few minutes late, his mind immediately jumped to worst-case scenarios because he’d already lived through the worst thing imaginable once before. He couldn’t survive it again.

At 5:06, he grabbed his keys off the table.

Meredith looked up immediately. “Alvin.”

“What?”

“She’s fine.”

“She’s late.”

“She’s six minutes late.”

He jammed his keys into his jacket pocket anyway. “I’m just driving by the school.”

The sound of the front door unlocking froze him instantly.