Chapter 16
For the next few days, Tyler fell into a rhythm that felt oddly natural.
The kind of days that filled the hours without noise but left room for thought.
He liked being busy, but it was the sense of purpose that steadied him.
He missed Gramps's presence, but the house gave him something to work on that didn’t come with a trigger or a target.
He hit the hardware store early in the week, buying paint, supplies, two new toilets, and enough lumber and hardware to take care of every fix-it note Gramps had made since Tyler’s last visit years ago and never quite finished.
The old man had tools tucked away in both the garage and shed, each well-oiled and well-used.
Tyler had smiled the first time he opened the drawer with the screwdrivers, seeing how Gramps kept his tools organized.
A pang of grief hit him in the chest more than he expected.
He began ticking off items on his list in the order he deemed most important.
First up was the railing along the staircase.
It wobbled just enough to be dangerous, and Tyler swallowed hard at the thought of Gramps possibly leaning on it too hard and falling.
He reinforced it, then tightened loose doorknobs and oiled creaky hinges.
Nothing glamorous, but satisfying nonetheless.
The next day, he painted the living room a pale dove gray.
The brushstrokes felt meditative, and by the time he finished, the space looked lighter.
As much as he loved the house his grandparents lived in, it was now starting to take shape as a place he could call home.
He stood in the doorway for a long moment after, arms folded across his chest, just looking.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
The day after that, he wrestled two new toilets into place, grunting and muttering the entire time.
Cursing under his breath when the wax ring didn’t sit right the first time.
He stopped the kitchen sink from dripping, finally silencing the slow, maddening tap that had driven him crazy for days.
Small victories, but worthwhile, nonetheless.
Each afternoon, when the sun arced high and the work started to ache in his shoulders, he walked across the yard to check on Jack.
The first time, Jack had been surprised to see him but had made his pleasure known with a nod that carried more meaning than most people’s long-winded welcomes.
That night, Tyler stayed for dinner. It was just him, Jack, and Justice around the kitchen table. Conversation came easily. They’d laughed, trading small stories, and Tyler found himself leaning back in his chair, full in more ways than one.
The next evening, he politely declined. Told Justice he didn’t want to intrude on their time together, which was true, but so was the other reason. He wanted to finish the second coat of paint in the living room while the mood held. She seemed to understand, and they texted later that night.
Still, he found himself standing by the bedroom window before bed, gazing at her house across the meadow. The lights were on in an upstairs bedroom, and he knew it was hers. He didn’t know how his awareness of her absence happened so quickly. But the quiet ache was there.
When Friday rolled around, and she invited him again, he didn’t hesitate. He even offered to bring a frozen chicken casserole leftover from the meal deliveries after the funeral. It seemed like a good fit for Jack’s new diet, and it felt right to contribute.
By the time he had it heated and ready to go, the late afternoon sun was dipping behind the tree line, and long shadows stretched across the yard.
He looked out his kitchen window, just as Justice’s car pulled into her driveway.
The sight of her hair tumbling over her shoulders brought a grin to his face.
He reached for one of his grandmother’s old casserole dish carriers. The blue canvas was faded, and the zipper was stubborn, but it worked. He had just placed the carrier in the passenger seat of his SUV when a sharp voice cut through the air. Then more shouting.
His head jerked toward her house. Justice stood on the front porch, her posture rigid, arm extended in a hard, unmistakable point. At the base of the steps, a couple stood with confrontational stances, and unwelcome energy radiated off them in a heat he could feel from across the field.
He couldn’t make out every word, but the tone was clear. He didn’t stop to think but just moved. Climbing into his SUV, he backed down his driveway and turned toward hers, careful not to block anyone in. As he pulled in, he got a better look.
The man was soft in the middle, his hair sparse on top, but his facial features were familiar in a way that left no doubt that this was Jack’s brother. The woman next to him was pure spite wrapped in heavy makeup and bleached hair, one hip cocked with impatience, a cigarette dangling from her lips.
“You cannot keep me from him! That’s my brother!” the man yelled.
Justice’s voice, strong but tight with frustration, carried through the air. “The two of you need to leave. I don’t want Dad upset by having to deal with you!”
“If your daddy wasn’t so stingy and gave Jordy what he was due, we wouldn’t have to be here,” the woman added, her tone dripping with long-held resentment.
Tyler froze for a heartbeat, the casserole still in his hands. Jordy and Debbie. So this was them. He didn’t say a word as he strode across the driveway, choosing a wide berth around the visitors. He climbed the steps to the porch without hesitation.
Justice’s eyes met his, and her shoulders eased. Her expression softened. And for the first time since the shouting began, she smiled. In that single moment, something inside him settled, and that was the only thing that mattered.
“Hey,” she said, her voice low and steady. Her eyes dipped to the carrier in his hand, and her smile widened. “That smells good.”
He didn’t speak right away. Instead, with the dish carrier still dangling from one hand, he stepped close enough to feel her breath hitch just slightly as he placed his other hand gently on her waist. Then he bent and brushed his lips across hers in a soft kiss that said what words wouldn’t.
That he was here and wasn’t going anywhere.
Her hand instinctively rose to touch his chest as she returned the kiss, her lips parting in silent understanding. And that was all the answer he needed. But it wasn’t just about them.
When he pulled back, he turned his head deliberately to face the couple still standing at the bottom of the porch steps, their presence like a sour note on an otherwise perfect evening.
That kiss wasn’t just for her. It was for them, too.
A message, loud and clear. He was here. With her.
With her father. And he wasn’t going to be silent or stand aside.
“I assume this is your uncle Jordy and aunt Debbie?” he asked, still keeping her tucked beside him.
Justice’s lips curled in a wry, tight smile. “In the flesh.”
Jordy, clearly not used to being ignored, puffed up his chest and tried again. “Now look here, I have a right to see my brother, and I’m not gonna let you—”
“This property is not yours,” Tyler said, voice low and even.
Both Jordy and Debbie flinched slightly, their heads jerking in surprise. Whether from the calm conviction in his tone or the fact that someone had interrupted Jordy’s tantrum, Tyler wasn’t sure.
“I don’t know who you think you are—”
“Tyler. Tyler Marconi,” he said, cutting through the noise. “Neighbor. Friend to Jack and Justice. And about to have dinner with them.”
Jordy’s eyes narrowed, flicking toward the property next door, and Tyler watched recognition dawn as realization settled into his pinched features.
“You’re Charlie Marconi’s grandson.”
“Yes. I am.”
“What are you doing over here?” Debbie asked, her voice high and whiny, cigarette still clinging to her bottom lip. The ash had grown so long, he half expected it to crumble all over her synthetic blouse.
“I think I just said we’re getting ready to have dinner,” Tyler replied dryly, keeping his focus on Jordy but sensing Justice had stepped even closer to him.
Justice crossed her arms, gaze steely. “Jordy, you’re a broken record. Dad doesn’t owe you anything. Why you think showing up and trying to bully him is going to change anything, I’ll never understand.”
“The situation is changing,” Jordy insisted, his voice rising again. “This area’s growing. And my brother needs to make sure he’s making the best use of his land.”
Jordy turned toward Tyler again, his beady eyes gleaming with what he probably thought was charm. “You’re new around here, son, but you need to know that your grandfather’s land has some real value if you play your cards right.”
Tyler’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “My name is Tyler. Or Mr. Marconi. Not son. And I’ve been coming here since I could barely walk. Spent every summer on that land. I know every creek, every ridge, and every deer trail better than you ever will. So no, I’m not new.”
He paused for effect, letting the silence settle before adding, “And it’s not my grandfather’s land anymore. It’s mine.”
Debbie’s scowl deepened as she blew out a puff of smoke. “No reason to get uppity.”
Justice cut her a glance, rolling her eyes before nodding at the casserole still in his hand. “Is that one of the ones dropped off after the funeral?”
He looked down, then back at her, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “It is. I got lucky because everyone labeled theirs, so I know what’s in it. Mostly chicken. Should be good for Jack.”
Her lips curved into a small but genuine smile, and she touched his arm briefly. “Thank you. That was really thoughtful.”
That one small gesture settled something in him.