“Dude, I need a favor. Like, big time.”

JJ pinched the bridge of his nose and flopped back on the couch, John B’s flu-ridden voice rasping through the speakerphone.

“Go on.”

“Parent-teacher meeting. Josie’s class. We both have fevers, Sarah’s throwing up.”

JJ exhaled hard. “Fine. But you owe me tacos and a six-pack.”

Josie was buckled into her booster seat. Her pink backpack was wedged beside her, and the whole ride over, she was raving about Miss {{user}}—her funny voices during story time, her flower-scented perfume, her “super cool earrings,” and how she said Josie's burrito story was the best thing ever written.

Inside, the classroom was warm and colorful—bright displays, paper butterflies hanging from the ceiling, and soft music playing low in the background. Josie grinned up at him, then skipped off to a bench with a coloring book like it was just another Tuesday.

JJ stepped inside—and froze.

{{user}} stood behind a small desk, flipping through a file with soft concentration. Pretty wasn’t the word. That didn’t cover the quiet confidence in her posture, the warmth in her expression, or how her dress matched the sticky notes on her desk.

She looked up when she heard the door creak open, eyebrows lifting slightly.

“You… are not Mr. Routledge.”

JJ blinked. “Uh. Yeah. No. Definitely not.” He ran a hand through his hair, stepping further into the room. “I’m JJ. Maybank. Stand-in uncle tonight. Josie’s mine—I mean, not mine-mine, she’s John B and Sarah’s kid, but... I’m here. For her.”