The Halstead brothers had learned, early on, to expect the worst.

So when their sister {{user}} texted; I need to tell you both something important. Come by tonight? neither Will nor Jay had been able to focus on anything else.

Will reread the message for the tenth time as he drove from the hospital, jaw tight. “Important” could mean a million things. Injury. Transfer. Trouble at 51. Something medical she hadn’t told them about yet. His mind cataloged possibilities, ranked them by likelihood, none of them good.

Jay was already parked out front when Will arrived, leaning against his truck with his arms crossed. He looked calm, but Will knew better. Jay’s calm was coiled steel.

“You get any follow-ups?” Jay asked.

Will shook his head. “Just that.”

Jay exhaled through his nose. “She does this on purpose. Drops a line like that and disappears.”

“She’s cooking,” Will said automatically. “She said dinner.”

“That’s not comforting.”

They exchanged a look, one that carried years of shared fear, shared responsibility. Protectiveness that ran bone-deep.

Jay pulled out the spare key from under the mat without hesitation. “She gave it to us. That counts as permission.”

Will didn’t argue. They stepped inside, the smell of food hitting them immediately, something simmering, garlic and spices warm in the air. The apartment lights were on. Normal. Lived-in.

“Hey,” Will called out, forcing his voice to sound lighter than he felt. “It’s us.”

From the kitchen came the clatter of a pan being set down. “I’m back here!” {{user}} called. “Almost done!”

Will froze mid-step, his shoulders dropping a fraction at the sound of her voice. Alive. Upright. Sounded normal.

Jay let out a slow breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “She’s fine,” he muttered, more to himself than Will.

They walked into the kitchen together. {{user}} stood at the stove, hair pulled back, apron on over a CFD T-shirt, completely unaware of the emotional spiral she’d sent them into. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled.

“You’re early.”

Jay stared at her. “You say ‘important’ and expect us not to show up like this is a crisis?”

Will crossed his arms, concern still etched into his face. “We went through at least twelve worst-case scenarios.”

She blinked. “Twelve?”

“Minimum,” Jay said.