Oh my god!” my mom and I say in unison— though my tone is impressed while hers is horrified. She grabs hold of the countertop to keep from fainting; I wrap an arm around her.

“It’s fine, Mom! Whoever he is, Heath’s got him. He freaking got him,” I say, shaking my head in wonder. Is this really happening? Did Heath just Navy SEAL the heck out of my mom’s backyard?

I nearly charge for the door, but remember what Heath told me— to wait till he calls. We watch as the others gather around Heath and the stranger. Leo looks like he’s on legs every bit as wobbly as my mom’s, and I can’t help but feel sorry for the guy.

He’s young, I realize— with scrawny arms and legs and a t-shirt for some band I’ve never heard of. His hair is too-long and tangly, and when he twists around, I see dark brown eyes full of genuine, wild fear.

“That’s little Simon Pettier! From down the street!” my mom says.

“Little? How old is he?”

“I guess…well, about seventeen or so, I suppose. Oh, Simon— you don’t suppose he’s fallen in with your father, has he? How would they even have met?”

I sigh in relief. “I don’t think this has anything to do with Dad.”

Heath calls a few moments later, voice still serious, no inkling of intimacy in it— all business.

“Come on out here and take a look,” he says.

“Can you bring him to the door? My mom won’t go out,” I say.

My mom nearly jumps on me. “No! I can go out right now— I mean, I’ll practically be surrounded by that crew,” she says, motioning to Heath and his friends. “I’m sure it’s perfectly safe.”

My eyes widen, and I truly realize just how long it’s probably been since my mother has stepped outside. I nod at her, and then hang up the phone. We walk to the back door, and my mother only has a moment’s hesitation before stepping onto the back step, then down into the yard.

“Simon!” she barks, and the kid— god, I’d believe he was fifteen if that’s what mom had said— spins around, looking horrified.

“Mrs. Ackerman, look, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think it’d bother you, you never use the yard and I just— don’t tell my parents, okay? I’m so sorry.”

“What’s actually going on here?” I ask, looking from Heath’s chiseled jaw to Simon’s acne-lined one.

“He’s been growing a few pot plants behind the shed,” Heath explains.

“The soil there is incredible, and I didn’t want to grow it on my parent’s property. It’s just a few, they’re nothing serious. I thought you’d never know,” Simon protests. The kid looks moments from tears.

“Behind the shed?” I ask, confused.

“That’s where the compost pile used to be. I bet the soil there is phenomenal,” my mom admits.

“It is! Seriously, the growth rate has been—“

“Not the point, dude,” Leo says under his breath.

“I’m really sorry,” Simon says instead of waxing poetic on the growth rate.

“Did you take the lock off the shed?” my mom asks, folding her arms. She hasn’t looked this mom-like since I was in middle school and she was grounding me for a B on my report card.

Simon nods glumly. “I needed some clippers and my bike key fit the lock.”

“Those store padlocks aren’t especially secure,” Jack jumps in, then jerks his head toward Simon. “And kid? Your plants needed more light anyway. Move to Denver if you’ve got to light up.”

“Or California,” Simon says sadly.

“Want us to call the cops? Or his parents?” Heath asks, seemingly uninterested in Simon and Jack’s mutual appreciation for weed.

My mother tilts her head to the side, studying Simon for a moment. Simon quivers. He looks like a baby horse, all long limbs and big eyes and total uncertainty about the ground beneath him.

Mom sighs. “It’s fine. I want the plants gone, Simon, you understand me? I won’t tolerate that on my property. What if the police had thought they were mine?”

“The police stopped coming over months ago,” Simon says, and I grimace— that’d been my doing.

“And how about, as penance, he helps out with the yard for the rest of the month?” my mom suggests.

“Yes! I can do that!” Simon says, sounding almost ecstatic at the idea of getting off so easily.

“Help with what?” I ask.

“Well, I haven’t planted a winter garden in age. Since Simon here has such a green thumb, he can do it for me,” my mom said pointedly.

“I can totally do that. Happy to,” Simon says.

“Sounds good,” Heath says, and then releases Simon’s collar so abruptly that the kid nearly falls down. “But,” Heath adds, stepping closer to him. “If I hear of any problems, we’ll have to talk again. Clear?”

“Yes sir, very clear,” Simon stammers. “Am I— uh…am I free to go?”

“Get out of here,” Heath says, and Simon leaps away faster than a frightened bunny.

“But come back tomorrow afternoon!” my mom calls after him, and we hear him holler some word of confirmation in response.

We all make our way to the back door, where Heath meets my eyes. His gaze remains professional as he tells me he needs to take Jack and the others back to the bar.

“Okay. Thanks for coming by,” I say. “Heath, I—“

“I’ll be back after I drop them,” Heath says.

“Oh, I don’t…I mean, if you want to. I would…” I swallow. “I’d like that.”

“I’ll let you know if I feel I need to come inside. Tomorrow, maybe I should give the whole place a once over for security lapses,” he answers. Still professional. Still unfeeling.

“Yeah. Sure, that’d be great,” I say, and I know I sound just as crestfallen as I feel. Heath doesn’t react, though; he and the others merely pile back into the SUV and vanish.

“Are you sure he isn’t your boyfriend?” my mother asks, and this time she doesn’t sound pressing, but rather, hopeful.

“He’s not,” I answer. “I told you— he’s leaving in eleven days. There’s no time to get serious even if I wanted to.”

“If a boy leaves a bar with all his friends to check on your mother, I think we can say things are at least sort of serious,” my mother says doubtfully.

I’m about to brush this off when she takes a deep breath and releases it. “It was lovely outside, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s a nice cold night,” I say, and turn to her, lips curling into a smile. “Want to go back out, now that we know the yard is clear?”

My mother glances at the back door, and I can practically see her mind waffling. In the end, she smiles, but shakes her head. “Maybe another time. I think I’ve had enough excitement tonight.”

“Fair,” I say, exhaling. In fact, I’ve had enough excitement for the last three nights— thanks to Heath. Maybe a few more episodes of house buying bullshit will be good for me.

“Come on, let’s go watch some more trashy TV. I want to rot my brain out,” I say, elbowing her, and my mom laughs— really laughs— for the first time in recent memory.

All thanks to Heath.

Well, Heath and a punk kid growing pot in a compost pile. But mostly thanks to Heath.