The summer heat was merciless.

  By midday, the air shimmered against the asphalt, and the metal scaffolding burned to the touch. The scent of sawdust, sweat, and steel clung to Ezra’s skin as he worked alongside his father’s growing construction crew. He had spent st summer on-site, but this year? This year, he was really working.

  The tasks started simple—hauling materials, sweeping up debris, double-checking tool inventories—but as the days passed, the crew began teaching him the real lessons.

  The ones that stuck with a man for life.

  Tweak was one of the first to take Ezra under his wing, though not without some heavy grumbling about "babysitting the boss’s kid." He was wiry and fast-talking, always with a cigarette dangling from his lips, his hands permanently stained with grease.

  One afternoon, Ezra stood beside him, watching as Tweak measured out a length of PVC pipe for an electrical run.

  “Here,” Tweak handed Ezra the measuring tape. “Cut this at twenty-three and a quarter.”

  Ezra nodded, grabbed the saw, and went for it.

  Tweak stopped him cold with a heavy smack to the back of the head.

  “Ow!” Ezra winced, rubbing the spot. “What was that for?”

  Tweak rolled his eyes. “Boy, did you measure twice?”

  Ezra blinked. “Uh—”

  Tweak groaned, snatching the tape from his hands and measuring the pipe again. He held it up to Ezra’s cut line. It was off by nearly half an inch.

  Ezra felt his face burn.

  Tweak shook his head. “Lemme tell you somethin’. ‘Measure twice, cut once’ ain’t just some cute little phrase. You screw this up on a real job? You waste time, waste money, and get some poor bastard redoing work that should’ve been right the first time.”

  He tossed the ruined piece aside, grabbed another, and measured again—twice. Then, he handed it back.

  “Try again.”

  Ezra took his time this time, double-checking, lining it up perfectly, and only then did he cut.

  Tweak nodded approvingly. “Now you’re gettin’ it.”

  Daisy wasn’t the loudest member of the crew, but she was one of the toughest. She had arms like steel cables and a no-nonsense attitude that demanded respect.

  One afternoon, Ezra watched as she worked the power saw, slicing through thick wooden pnks with expert precision.

  “You ever use one of these before?” she asked, looking up.

  Ezra hesitated. “I mean… I know how it works.”

  Daisy wiped sweat from her brow and nodded toward the saw. “Alright. Give it a go.”

  Ezra stepped up to the table, adjusted the pnk, and reached for the trigger.

  Before he could pull it, Daisy’s hand cmped down on his wrist.

  Ezra froze.

  She looked him dead in the eye. “Rule number one: Never rush with a power tool. Ever.”

  Ezra swallowed hard. “I wasn’t—”

  “Yes, you were.”

  She let go and pointed to the bde.

  “This thing doesn’t care who you are. You lose focus for one second, it’ll take your fingers off.”

  Ezra nodded slowly, adjusting his stance, taking a moment to feel the weight of the tool in his hands before starting again.

  This time, he moved carefully.

  Daisy gave an approving nod. “That’s better.”

  As Ezra finished the cut, she leaned against the table and smirked. “Respect your tools, kid. They’ll respect you back.”

  Big Bubba had a presence. The kind that commanded attention the moment he stepped on-site. He was a mountain of a man, his voice gravelly but warm, a veteran of the trade who had seen it all.

  One day, Ezra was helping load a stack of drywall when Bubba called him over.

  “Boy, tell me somethin’,” he said, arms crossed. “If somethin’ on this site feels wrong, what do you do?”

  Ezra frowned. “Uh… check with someone?”

  Bubba grunted. “That’s part of it. But first? You listen to that gut of yours.”

  Ezra raised an eyebrow.

  Bubba sighed, pulling a battered hard hat from under his arm. “I seen guys try to ‘tough it out’ on a job. Felt somethin’ was off, didn’t say nothin’. Next thing ya know? They’re in a hospital or a damn coffin.”

  Ezra’s stomach twisted.

  Bubba cpped a massive hand on his shoulder. “If it don’t feel safe, it probably ain’t. That gut feeling? That’s survival talkin’.”

  Ezra nodded solemnly. He wouldn’t forget that one.

  It was Tweak who hammered this next lesson home, but everyone backed it up.

  Ezra had gotten cocky. He had measured twice, he had handled tools with respect, and he had trusted his gut—but the one thing he hadn’t mastered yet was slowing down.

  One day, while installing electrical conduit, Ezra got impatient. He tried to rush through bending a pipe, miscalcuted, and ended up wasting an entire length of material.

  Tweak saw it happen and shook his head.

  "Kid," he said, stepping up beside him. "You ever hear the phrase, ‘Slow is smooth, smooth is fast’?”

  Ezra sighed. “Sounds like a paradox.”

  Tweak smirked. “Yeah, well, so does your brain when you rush through shit.”

  Ezra huffed, but listened.

  Tweak gestured to the pipe. “When you rush, you make mistakes. Mistakes slow you down. But if you take your time, if you breathe before every cut, before every move—you get it right the first time.”

  Ezra picked up another pipe, measured again, and took his time getting it perfect before bending.

  Tweak nodded. “Now you’re getting it.”

  He had bruises. He had sore muscles. He had days where he wanted to throw his tools and quit.

  But he didn’t.

  And by the time summer was over, he had earned something more valuable than money.

  Patience.Precision.The understanding that speed meant nothing if it wasn’t paired with control.

  As he packed up his gear for the st day, Bubba cpped him on the back with a proud chuckle.

  “Well, kid,” he said, “looks like we knocked some sense into ya after all.”

  Ezra grinned. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll try not to let it go to my head.”

  Daisy smirked. “Just don’t forget who taught you.”

  Ezra wouldn’t.

  Not ever.

  Ezra had never seen so much money in his life. The summer had been brutal—his hands were calloused, his back ached, and he could still hear Tweak yelling about measuring twice in his sleep. But when his father handed him the envelope, thick with cash, all the hardship suddenly felt worth it.

  “This is all mine?” Ezra flipped through the stack of bills, wide-eyed.

  Seth chuckled, tossing his keys onto the kitchen counter. “Yup. Every st cent. But don’t go tellin’ people—you’re still ‘undocumented,’ remember?”

  Ezra grinned, stuffing the money into his pocket. “So I’m basically a criminal.”

  Seth smirked. “Welcome to the working css, kid.”

  The first thing Ezra thought about was what to do with it. He could buy a new gaming system, upgrade his room, get something fshy for himself. But then another idea came to him, one that felt a little more important. Without a second thought, he called Julie.

  The mall was packed, buzzing with weekend energy—teenagers ughing, couples strolling hand-in-hand, the occasional toddler throwing a nuclear tantrum near the food court. The air smelled like pretzels, fast food grease, and overpriced perfume.

  Julie, as always, moved like she owned the pce. She had been born into money—Ezra had known that from the moment he first stepped into her mansion of a house—but she wasn’t obnoxious about it. Well, not in the way rich kids usually were.

  “Alright, what’s the pn, Cum-Back Kid?” Julie asked, slurping on a ridiculously rge iced coffee as they strolled past the arcade. “Blow your entire paycheck on something dumb? A life-size Gundam figure, perhaps?”

  Ezra smirked. “Tempting.”

  Julie nudged him. “Or maybe a gold-pted Xbox.”

  “Oh, yeah. That’s exactly what I want.”

  Julie grinned, clearly enjoying herself. “I mean, what else do guys blow their money on? Video games? Sneakers? A motorcycle you can’t legally drive yet?”

  Ezra just shook his head, then reached for her hand.

  Julie blinked, slightly thrown off. “Oh? What’s this? A hand-hold? How very romantic of you.”

  Instead of stopping at the usual stores, he led her straight to the food court. Julie raised an eyebrow as they approached a casual sit-down diner. “Wait. Are we… eating actual food?”

  Ezra pulled open the door, smirking. “I’m taking you on a real date.”

  Julie tilted her head, looking amused. “Oh-hoh? Spending that hard-earned, under-the-table paycheck on me?”

  “Would you rather have the Gundam?”

  She ughed, grabbing his arm as she stepped inside. “Nah. This is better.”

  The meal wasn’t extravagant, but it was good—burgers, fries, and thick milkshakes served in gsses so heavy they could double as weapons. Julie teased him mercilessly when he paid. “Can you believe this?” she gasped, dramatic as ever. “The man pays for dinner! With his own money! What a provider!”

  Ezra rolled his eyes, but she was smiling, and that meant everything.

  After dinner, they wandered through the mall, idly browsing stores without any real pn. It was an aimless, easy kind of night, the kind where neither of them had anywhere else to be.

  Then, out of nowhere, Julie grabbed his arm and yanked him toward a storefront.

  “Shiny,” she murmured.

  Ezra barely had time to react before she dragged him inside a jewelry store, eyes sparkling almost as much as the dispys. The cases were filled with elegant gold and silver, gemstones that glowed under the showroom lights.

  Julie pressed her hands against the gss like a child outside a candy shop, grinning at the sheer excess of it all. “See, this is my problem,” she said, half to herself, half to Ezra. “I could be dirt poor, and I’d still be a crow. Just… look at them.”

  Ezra watched as her fingers drifted along the dispy, not even checking price tags—just admiring. Then, she stopped.

  Her expression changed.

  “Oh,” she breathed.

  Ezra followed her gaze.

  It wasn’t the fshy neckces or the diamond-studded bracelets that had caught her attention. It was a ring.

  A simple, elegant band—nothing overly extravagant, just a modest silver ring with a single, understated diamond. Compared to the others, it was almost pin, but it had a quiet beauty to it, something timeless.

  Julie’s fingers hovered over the gss, her voice softer now. “It looks just like my mom’s.”

  Ezra stared at her. She wasn’t gushing, she wasn’t teasing. She was just… quiet.

  He looked back at the ring.

  And in that moment, he knew.

  This was the one.

  He had no idea how he would afford it. It would take him at least a year’s worth of work to even get close. But suddenly, all the dumb things he had considered buying—the new games, the fancy gadgets—none of it mattered.

  This was it.

  This was what he would save for.

  Julie let out a small sigh, shaking her head as if pulling herself out of a trance. “Alright, alright. I’ve had my crow moment.” She turned back toward Ezra, grinning. “C’mon, before I start impulse-buying things.”

  Ezra forced himself to act normal as they left the store. But in his mind, he had already started making pns.