You tug your jacket tighter against the chill as you stand by the hardware store, glancing at the time and wondering why you thought today of all days was a good one for a DIY project. You hadn’t even made it through the door when you heard the familiar clatter of metal tools and a low, warm voice behind you.

“Need a hand with that?”

You turn to see him—your neighbor, the guy who’s always fixing something around the block. He's wearing an old flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms, and there’s a little smudge of dirt across his cheek.