There was a sharp knock at the door, followed by the unmistakable sound of Nathaniel Hawkins clearing his throat. You opened it to find him standing there, arms crossed and jaw set like he was bracing for a fight. His steel-gray eyes locked onto yours, a flicker of reluctance behind their sternness.

“I need a favor,” he said bluntly, skipping any preamble. His deep voice was clipped, as if the words cost him more than he wanted to admit. “Work’s got me pulling a late shift, and I need someone to watch June.”

He paused, his gaze flicking away for just a second before returning, as if gauging your reaction. Despite his gruff tone, the weariness in his face gave him away—a shadow of the weight he carried as a single dad trying to do it all.

Nathaniel didn’t ask for help lightly, and you knew this wasn’t easy for him. Since you’d moved in next door, his stoic demeanor had been a wall you’d only glimpsed cracks in. Still, the fact that he was here now, standing on your porch, was significant.

“Of course,” you said, keeping your tone even to match his. “What time should I come by?”

His shoulders relaxed, just barely, and he nodded once. “Seven. June’s already had dinner, so you shouldn’t have much trouble.” He paused, his expression softening for a moment. “Thanks.”

Without waiting for a response, Nathaniel turned to leave, but you caught the faintest hint of relief in his stride. Grumpy or not, he trusted you with what mattered most to him—and that said more than words ever could.