Page 4

BRIAR: I am sitting on the couch, feet up, doing nothing.

ME: Is he hovering?

Three dots appear immediately.

BRIAR: He just asked if I need water for the third time in twenty minutes.

CONLIN: Hovering confirmed.

LACHLIN: Both of you can go to hell.

I grin, leaning over the counter. Briar’s past her due date, which means the entire Hale clan is on high alert for Jack Liam Hale’s arrival. Lachlin is handling it with his usual stoic panic, pretending he’s fine while tracking Briar’s breathing like a storm watcher.

ME: Should we start a pool on how many times he checks the hospital bag today?

BRIAR: Too late. I’m already at six.

CONLIN: Nine.

LACHLIN: I hate this family.

MOM: Language.

A second later: MOM: Also, twelve.

I chuckle, setting the phone aside.

I unpack a pair of mugs, three mismatched plates, and a bottle opener I don't remember packing.

Setting up a kitchen feels strange when I have no clue how long I’ll stay here. Hollow North doesn't have another tour booked yet, but after Europe, nobody expects us to go back to dive bars. The industry calls are already coming in; management meetings, studio time, talk about the next record. Real momentum.

Part of my brain is still living out of a duffel bag, waiting for the next departure date. A month? Six months?

For now, though, I’m here. Drinking decent coffee, waiting on my nephew to arrive, giving my brothers hell in person, and writing music without a highway humming beneath my feet.

And figuring out who lives on the other side of that wall.

I glance at the plaster partition. Dead silence. I should leave it that way, turn the music down, and be the model neighbor.

I walk back to the living room, reach for the speaker, and drop the volume to a whisper. Considerate. Respectful. A changed man.

I stack two empty boxes by the door.

Then I stop.

It’s childish. I know it’s childish.

I walk back over to the speaker and nudge the dial up a single notch.

Nothing.

Another notch.

A sharp, heavy thump rattles the drywall three seconds later.

A grin breaks across my face as I immediately dial it back down.

I stand there in my half-empty living room, staring at the shared wall. I don't know her name yet. I only know she has a sharp tongue, zero tolerance for my bullshit, and that keeping my distance is going to be damn near impossible.