Chapter 25
VIVIAN
My car smells faintly like antiseptic and peppermint. It’s an odd combination, but it somehow feels like a win.
I glance over at my grandmother in the passenger seat, bundled up like she’s preparing for a snowstorm instead of a short drive home. Blanket, cardigan, the whole situation.
She looks good. Tired, yes. A little pale. But good.
“You’re supposed to rest when we go home,” I remind her, not for the first time.
“I am resting,” she says, completely unbothered. “See? Even now. I’m sitting.”
“That is not the same thing.”
She smiles, eyes drifting out the window. “The doctor said I could come home.”
“The doctor said you could come home if you rest,” I correct. “And you promised me you would.”
“I did.”
“And you’re going to keep that promise,” I press.
She turns her head just enough to look at me, that familiar spark in her eyes. “I am. I have very important motivation now.”
I narrow my eyes. “If you say Larry—”
“Larry,” she sings immediately, with zero shame. “Larry, Larry, Larry.”
I eek out a laugh despite myself. “You are unbelievable.”
“I’m motivated,” she says sweetly. “You should be proud.”
“I’m deeply concerned.”
She pats my arm like I’m the one being dramatic, and I shake my head, but the tension in my chest has eased. Walking pneumonia that was caught early. She needs some rest, medication, and a few days in bed. Barring the sprained wrist from her fall, she’s okay.
That’s what matters.
By the time we pull into the driveway, I’m already in motion—grabbing her bag, helping her out of the car, one hand hovering near her elbow even when she insists she doesn’t need it.
Inside, the house feels the same and not the same all at once. Like something in our foundation was rocked while we were gone, even though everything is exactly where we left it.
I get her settled on the couch first. Within minutes she’s tucked in, pillows adjusted, water within reach, medication lined up like I’m running a very strict operation.
“There,” I say, hands on my hips. “You’re not moving from here until you need to go to the bathroom.”
She looks entirely too pleased about it. “Your wish is my command.”
I roll my eyes, but I lean down and press a quick kiss to her forehead before stepping back.
“I’ll go put your things away and get your bedroom ready, then I’ll make a list and go to the store.” I wag a finger in her direction. “But you stay put, got it?”
She gives me a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”
I give her one last look—just to be sure—before slipping out of the room and starting my tasks.
The house is quiet. Too quiet. I reach for my phone as I move into the kitchen, more out of habit than anything. I scan my texts to make sure nothing new has popped up, and then I stop when I see the name and string of messages I sent but are still unanswered.
So odd.
Hey, checking in—how’s the workshop?
Do you need anything?
Are the girls behaving?
Good news—Grandma’s doing better. She gets to come home.
Thank you again. Seriously.
Are you getting these?
I stare at them. One after the other. No response. Not even a read receipt.
A small frown pulls at my mouth. “That’s…weird.”
I tap into the thread, scrolling like maybe I missed something. Nothing. I type, then stop. Delete it, and type again.
Pause.
“Okay,” I murmur to myself. “Maybe he’s just busy.”
That makes sense.
He’s with a room full of girls and whatever chaos that turned into. Still, call it women’s intuition, but something about it feels off.
I shake it off, setting my phone down as I move around the kitchen, grabbing a glass, filling it with water, trying to settle back into normal. Grandma’s home, and that’s the priority.
I grab the plastic soiled clothes bag from the hospital and head to the laundry room to start a load of wash when there’s a knock at the front door.
We’re not expecting anyone, so I head for the door, pull it open, and am surprised to find Lucy on the porch with two bags of groceries in her hands and a look on her face that tells me this is not a casual drop-in.
“Hey.” I step back, already opening the door wider.
“Figured you could use some food for the weekend,” she says, holding the bags up high.
“You timed that perfectly. We just got back from the hospital.”
Lucy nods, stepping inside, but there’s something in her face that keeps everything in me on alert.
“Actually, I called there first, looking for one of you,” she says. “They told me you took your grandma home. How is she?”
“She’s good,” I say quickly. “She’s resting, or supposed to be. Come in.”
I close the door behind her, motioning her toward the living room. “Are you okay? Your face tells me that something is going on.”
Lucy hesitates, just for a second. “I just heard from Liam.”
I don’t know why, but back to that woman’s intuition thing. Something in my chest tightens.
“Have you talked to Ty in the last few hours?”
“No.” My heart stutters, then starts beating faster. “Why?”
Lucy lifts her hands slightly, like she’s trying to keep this calm. “Okay, don’t freak out—”
“I’m already freaking out.”
“He’s fine,” she says quickly. “We think he’s fine. But he kind of…took off from the workshop.”
I blink. “What?”
“He left,” she says. “Liam said they were in the middle of everything. Things were going well. They put on a movie, it got kind of noisy, there was a lot going on and—”
“Wait,” I cut in, my brain catching on one word. “A lot going on?”
Lucy nods. “Yeah. Squealing, and parents coming in. I guess it was…stimulating for him.”
I stare at her.
“Stimulating,” I repeat, slower now. Then it clicks. “Overstimulation.”
Lucy exhales. “Yes.”
I press my lips together, my mind racing ahead of the conversation.
“You know about his diagnosis,” I say, already knowing the answer.
Lucy’s eyes widen slightly. “You do, too?”
“Yeah,” I say. “He told me.”
“Liam said it got loud, a parent showed up, there was a lot happening at once, and Ty shut down. He looked at Liam, told him to take over, and left.”
I nod slowly, piecing it together.
“Okay,” I murmur. “Things are starting to make sense now.”
I think about my phone, and the lack of response to my messages. It’s not like the man I’ve been getting to know.
“So, you really haven’t heard from him?” Lucy asks.
I shake my head. “No. I’ve texted him a few times. Nothing.”
Lucy exhales, shifting her weight. “Liam tried calling, too, but he’s not answering.”
A small, tight feeling starts to settle in my chest.
“He’s probably just decompressing,” Lucy adds. “Or somewhere quiet. But I wanted to come tell you.”
I nod again, even though the movement feels a little too slow, a little too distant.
“Yeah. Thank you,” I say. “I…wish I could do more right now.”
“I know you’ve got a lot going on,” she says gently. “But maybe later, when things settle, you could try reaching out again?”
“I will,” I say immediately. “I’ll get Grandma settled, and then I’ll try him.”
Lucy studies me for a second, then nods. “Okay. Just let us know when you hear from him, and same for us, yeah?”
“I will.”
We move toward the door together, everything feeling slightly off, like a small explosion has shifted the air and it’s too thick to settle back.
“Hey,” she says softly before she leaves, pulling me into a quick hug. “He’s okay. It doesn’t mean anything’s wrong long term.”
I nod against her shoulder. “I know.”
She pulls back, giving me one last look. “Text me when you hear from him.”
“I will.”
She steps out, and I close the door behind her, standing there for a second, hand still on the doorknob, staring at nothing.
Then I turn, moving back into the house slowly, my thoughts starting to catch up with me in a way I don’t like.
Overstimulation.
Too much noise.
Too many people.
Too many expectations.
My stomach drops.
I knew what he was dealing with, and I let him do this. I said it was okay for him to take the girls. I let him to step into something that wasn’t his—
“Stop,” I murmur to myself, but it doesn’t stop. It keeps building.
I move into the kitchen, then brace my hands against the counter. What if this is my fault? What if I pushed him into something he couldn’t handle? I know how hard he tries. How much he pushes through. And what if today—
What if today was too much?
The quiet presses in again so I push off the counter before I can spiral any further. Instead of tripping out, I grab Grandma’s bag and head upstairs. Pushing open her bedroom door…I stop in my tracks.
Ty.
Ty is sitting on the windowsill. Ty is sitting on the windowsill in my grandmother’s bedroom, staring at the floor like it has all the answers for world peace.
For a second, my brain doesn’t process it, until it does.
“Ty?”
He looks up, and everything in my chest explodes at once. There’s relief. Confusion. Something heavier threaded underneath.
“Where have you been?” I take a step into the room, the door falling shut behind me. “What are you doing here?”
He doesn’t answer right away. I don’t think he can. He stares at me and I see it. The quiet in him isn’t calm. It’s aftermath.
My heart stumbles.
“Are you okay?” I ask, without accusation. I only want to understand. “Lucy said you left and no one can reach you.”
“I couldn’t—” he starts, then stops, jaw tightening slightly like the words aren’t lining up the way he wants them to.
I move closer, slower this time, like sudden movement might break whatever this is.
“It’s okay,” I say gently. “You don’t have to—”
“I tried,” he says, cutting in quietly. “I just…couldn’t pick what to do first.”
That lands harder than anything else he could’ve said.
My chest tightens, guilt flaring sharp and immediate.
“Ty, I—”
“Don’t,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make it your fault.”
I stop. Because that’s exactly where I was headed.
He exhales, dragging a hand through his hair before letting it fall back to his knee.