7 - Neighbors

Saturday came with a soft hush of wind and sunlight stretching lazily across the grasslands of their inherited property in Wesmere.

A few days had passed since Ezra had packed up his life in the city to care for the kids-Mia, fourteen and already sharp as a tack, and the twin six-year-olds, Caleb and Camden.

The move had been both frantic and numbing. Ezra had left behind more than an apartment; he left behind a job he was good at, an identity forged by city grit and sawdust.

Renovation projects had kept him sane, and now he was trading beams and blueprints for bedtimes and bickering.

But what choice did he have? Raising three kids in the city would've meant endless bills, cramped living, and too many creeps casting glances at a girl like Mia, who was fast blossoming into a young woman.

Here, in Wesmere, they had space. History. A house with six upstairs bedrooms that hadn't been lived in for years, not since their father passed and left it to Megan.

Megan had lived in another city with the kids, never settling into the property. The land had sat abandoned like a paused memory until Ezra stepped back onto it eight years later.

Sebastian had been helping out already, true to his word. He wasn't around every day, but when he came by, it gave Ezra space to breathe. There was something about Sebastian's quiet steadiness that slipped into the creases of their chaos like balm.

That morning, Sebastian had texted:

[Sebastian]: Got a case consult this morning but I'll swing by later. Let the kids know I didn't vanish.

Ezra sent back a thumbs-up emoji, then turned toward the kids.

"Alright," he called, tugging open the passenger side-a recent indulgence he'd almost felt guilty for, but it was necessary now, with three kids and a half-wild stretch of land to maintain. "We're doing neighbor duty. Hop in."

"Like a welcome wagon?" Mia asked, already sliding into the front.

Ezra grunted. "More like a 'please don't call CPS on us' kind of introduction."

The kids laughed, and that small sound felt like sunlight cracking through a thick cloud.

The court was wide and gravel-lined, with five properties spaced generously apart in a quiet semicircle.

Megan had always said their father had picked the spot for its seclusion, its view, and its "perfect air." Ezra hadn't stepped foot on the land in over eight years-not since their father's funeral. Now, it was his turn to re-root the Anderson name here.

Mia, already scrolling through her phone, sighed dramatically. "This is going to be so awkward."

They began with the Atwells.

The Atwell home looked like a P*******t board exploded over it: white trim, lavender bushes, a perfect swing set in the front yard.

Jonathan answered the door in joggers and a tech-branded hoodie, while Rachel Atwell stood poised behind him in a perfectly ironed dress, all smiles and knowing eyes.

"Oh! You must be Ezra," she said with a grin just tight enough to notice. "And these must be Megan's little ones. Mia, right? You're growing into such a lovely young lady."

Mia stiffened slightly, offering a polite smile. Ezra noticed Rachel's gaze lingered too long.

Jonathan was pleasant enough, but Rachel offered a few too many suggestions about schools, community programs, "adjustment phases," and Ezra felt his chest tighten by the time they stepped away.

"She looked at us like we were rescue puppies," Mia muttered as they walked.

"Don't take it personally," Ezra said. "Some people can't help talking down."

Next came Mrs. Dolores Finch.

Her little house was crowded with flower pots and wind chimes. When she saw them coming, she waved from the porch and called out, "Ezra Anderson! Look at you. And those babies!"

Before they could protest, the twins were being offered lemon cookies, and Mia was cornered into a story about Megan's teenage antics. Ezra endured a cheek-pinch, then a thousand questions about his love life.

"Now who's that sweet boy with the curls that's been visiting you?" Dolores asked with a wink. "He's got such lovely manners. A therapist, you say? If I were thirty years younger..."

Ezra coughed, trying not to laugh. "Just a friend. He's helping with the kids."

Dolores patted his arm, satisfied with herself. "You need a bit of help. Your hands are already full."

On to the Naidoos.

Their house had herbs hanging on the porch and the smell of incense drifting through the screen door. Priya opened it with a smile that immediately relaxed Ezra's shoulders.

"We were hoping you'd come by," she said, ushering them in. "Kiran's in the back working on a garden path. The kids can come meet the rabbits."

Kiran was indeed in the yard, sweat-soaked and cheerful. He gave Ezra a tour of the garden and offered help if Ezra needed help restoring the land.

"I'm a landscape architect," he said. "I'd love to help you bring the old place back to life."

"That'd be... really appreciated," Ezra admitted.

Priya handed Mia a small jar of lavender balm. "For the headaches. I get them too."

By the time they left, the twins were carrying sticks pretending to be wizards, and Mia had a faint smile.

Their last stop was the Morenos' place.

Tomas opened the door, blinking like he'd just stepped out of a cave. Felix stood behind him holding a wrench.

"We don't get visitors," Tomas said.

"We're the new neighbors," Ezra offered. "I mean, old new. I used to live here."

Felix nodded. "The house with the green shutters."

They didn't say much, but the brothers handed Camden a sunflower seedling and told Mia she had "a calm aura." It was weird and sweet all at once.

Back at the house, Ezra felt the edges of exhaustion setting in. The court had been polite, but full of unspoken things. They all knew Megan. They'd all been watching the place.