Page 84 of Tessa and Nash

I make a decision.

“We’re going,” I say.

Nash blinks. “Going where?”

I lift my chin. “To Juniper House.”

The name drops between us like a stone in a well.

Nash’s gaze sharpens. “Right now?”

“Yes.”

“It’s…” he glances at the sky. “It’s Saturday.”

“I have no work,” I say, already pulling my coat tighter. “If there is something there that explains any of this, I’m not waiting for my uncle to curate the truth.”

Nash’s mouth quirks, but there’s no humor in it. “And you’re bringing me.”

I look at him. At the tension in his shoulders. At the way his hands grip the folder like it’s the only thing keeping him anchored.

He’s scared.

Not of me. Not of gossip. Not even of the council.

He’s scared of building his future on something rotten.

And despite every instinct that tells me to keep him at arm’s length, I hear my own voice say, “Yes.”

Nash’s eyes flicker with surprise.

Then he nods once, decisive. “Okay. Let’s go.”

I turn, open the door just enough to slip inside, and shut it quickly behind me.

Grandma looks up from her chair. Her gaze drops instantly to my face.

“What’s happened?”

“I need the keys to Juniper House,” I say, moving too fast, voice too calm, the way it gets when I’m trying not to break.

Her eyes narrow gently. “Tessa.”

I stop. Because Grandma doesn’t do commands without context.

I force a breath. “Nash found something. About the land. About Juniper House.”

The needles still.

A pause, heavy and quiet.

Then, “Oh,” she says, and it’s the same kind of “oh” my mother used to say when she saw storms coming.

I swallow. “We’re going out there. Just to look. I need clarity.”

Grandma’s gaze flicks to the hallway. To the door of Thomas’s office, measuring distance and consequence.

Then she nods once. “Alright.”