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Barrett shrugged. “When the work’s done.”

“But it never is.”

He seemed to consider that, then nodded. “Usually more tomorrow.”

He genuinely didn’t appear to see anything remarkable about that.

“You look after everyone,” I said softly.

Barrett’s eyebrows drew together. “I look after trees.”

“Molly isn’t a tree.”

“She worries about Agnes.”

“And you made sure she understood what was wrong because you knew that would make her feel better.”

He looked down at his food.

I watched his big fingers fold the wrapper into a neat square. “You do it with me too.”

His eyes came back to mine.

I hadn’t intended to say that. The scientist in me wanted to retreat immediately. Gather the evidence, reframe the statement, make it less personal.

But I didn’t.

“You feed me,” I said. “You bring tea because you know I get cold. You notice when I’m tired before I do. Three days ago, you got burned because your first instinct was to put yourself between me and something dangerous.”

Barrett’s jaw tightened. “That’s my job.”

“No.” I held his gaze. “Some of it is. Not all of it.”

He went very still.

Around us, Screaming Woods carried on being strange. A delivery van rolled past with something tentacled waving from the passenger window. Somewhere down Nightjar Row, a bell chimed and a flock of tiny silver birds erupted from a chimney.

At our table, neither of us moved.

“You notice everything,” I said.

His voice came low. “Not everything.”

His attention settled fully on me, and goose bumps rose along my forearms. “What do you miss?”

His eyes dropped to my mouth again. “Hazel.”

My name sounded different in that voice. For one reckless second, I wondered what would happen if I leaned across the table and kissed him.

The thought startled me enough that I sat back.

Barrett did too, rubbing one hand over the back of his neck.

I looked down at the bag beside me. Grandma’s journal was inside, and the familiar shape of it steadied me.

“I want to show you something.”

I took out the journal, placed it on the table between us, and opened it carefully. “This was Grandma’s.”