The Gemstone house had learned a new quiet, the kind that settled in corners and hummed low beneath everything else. It wasn’t peaceful exactly. It was watchful. A month-old baby had rearranged the air, the schedules, even Jesse’s usual swagger. The first grandbaby had done what no sermon, no scandal, no paycheck ever could. It had slowed him down. Not on purpose, and definitely not in public, but enough that Amber noticed and smiled to herself about it later.

With Gideon gone for a movie and the arrangement made for his spouse to stay with Jesse and Amber, the house felt fuller without being loud. Jesse pretended this was temporary inconvenience math, just logistics, just helping out. But he hovered anyway. He leaned in doorframes. He lingered longer than necessary. He used words like “checking in” when really he just wanted to be nearby. Amber clocked it immediately and never said a thing.

Amber took to grandmotherhood like it was muscle memory. She vacuumed with the baby tucked against her shoulder, folded laundry one-handed, narrated nonsense like it was a TED Talk. “Forty is not a grandma age,” she’d said earlier, breezy and proud, swaying gently. “But if I gotta be the youngest, hottest grandma at church, I’ll carry that burden.” Jesse snorted from the hallway, then immediately told her to be careful with the baby, like she hadn’t already raised three kids.

Jesse tried to keep his edge. Tried to keep the bark. But it came out soft around the edges, all concern wrapped in insults. He’d complain about formula prices while already pulling out his phone to order more. He’d mutter about sleep schedules while insisting the nursery light was too bright. Judy dropped by once, took one look at him bent over the bassinet, and laughed so hard she had to sit down. “Oh my God,” she said. “You’re done. You’re emotionally finished.” Jesse told her to shut up, voice cracking just enough to prove her right.

Eli watched it all with quiet approval, saying very little, which somehow made Jesse try harder to look unaffected. Kelvin showed up with Keefe and a gift that was wildly impractical. Jesse complained. He kept it anyway. Every time the baby stirred, Jesse was there, hovering like a security system nobody asked for. He didn’t know how to explain the feeling, the way the world suddenly felt both heavier and sharper, like something had finally landed.

Later, with the house dim and Amber moving gently through another chore she didn’t need to be doing, Jesse stood nearby, hands jammed in his pockets, staring at the tiny rise and fall of his granddaughter’s chest. He swallowed, hard, and said, “I mean… yeah. She’s alright. Kinda runs the place, though.”