"It started a few months ago, I guess," his dad said slowly, adjusting to this sudden shift in audience energy. "New owners moved in. Used to be quiet as anything next door."
"Ah. A shift in the neighborhood ecosystem," Piper mused, nodding like she wasn't just invested. No, she was emotionally drafting a proposal to the HOA. "That's the worst. I mean, they know what they're doing and still do it anyway, right?"
He hesitated, visibly wobbling between decades of practiced curmudgeon and something dangerously close to open conversation. "I mean, they're nice enough the rest of the time."
"Mmm." Piper leaned in slightly like she was sharing a secret. "What do you think? Are they being deliberately inconsiderate, or are they simply that special kind of clueless?"
Dad frowned, then sighed as if the question had won a small, inconvenient victory. "They might not know."
"Well, if you tell them and they keep doing it, then you'll know they're just jerks," Jase chimed in cheerfully. "Not inadvertent assholes."
"Clarity is a good thing," Anna said, pointedly staring at Piper.
There was a pause. Zach's dad glanced at Piper, still wearing his usual armor but with a flicker of something else. Consideration, maybe. Interest, possibly. Wonder, if Zach was being very dramatic—which, sadly, was his default setting with her.
She knew exactly what she was doing.
She knew how to play this family game of his.
She fits here better than me.
And that—more than anything—terrified him. Because he could have everything he wanted at the start of this gig. But it wasn't about the deal anymore. Not really.
It was her.
He stood to help clear the plates, stacking them neatly and feeling oddly domestic as he made his way to the kitchen.
"Don't screw it up," Jase whispered, suddenly beside him, so close that Zach startled, nearly dropping a fork.
"Not planning on it," Zach replied, shooting him a sideways look as he opened the dishwasher.
Even as he said that, a quiet knot tightened in his gut. He was keeping the latest Tess revelation from her, and the longer he did, the heavier it would be.
"We like her," Jase said, his voice low but firm, like he was issuing a family decree. He pointed his index and middle finger at his eyes, then at Zach's.
Zach scoffed, turning back toward the sink. "We're not?—"
"Save it." Jase waved a dismissive hand. "I've seen that look before. On my own face, right before I realized Heather was it for me."
"You're totally misreading this?—"
"Shh." Jase held up his fingertip dramatically to Zach's lips, ignoring the loaded dinner plate in Zach's hand. "Time for your happily married brother to dispense wisdom. Listen carefully, baby bro."
Zach swatted Jase's hand away, setting down the plate before something shattered. "Could you not do that while I'm holding our mother's good china?"
Jase pursed his lips, thoughtful. "A lesser-known sign you're falling for someone is when you start caring whether plates survive."
"You're delusional," Zach muttered.
"Well-known and documented. But this isn't about me, this is about you and how she fits. You know how rare that is, especially with... well, all of us."
Zach dried his hands, then paused, gripping the towel a little too tightly. "I don't want to mess it up by rushing it."
Jase eased. "You're not rushing. You're feeling something real, and it scares the hell out of you. That's normal. You know what's not normal? Smiling like an idiot when someone talks about sunset Sheeran with Dad."
Zach cracked a reluctant grin.
"There he is." Jase clapped him on the back. "All you gotta do is keep showing up. Let fate handle the rest."
