Jaylen climbed out quickly.
“Mama, it’s okay,” he called. “His car broke down. I fixed it.”
The woman’s eyes moved from Jaylen to Wendell.
Wendell stepped out with both hands visible, suddenly aware of how every inch of him announced money, intrusion, and danger.
“Ma’am,” he said. “Wendell Hayes. Your son helped me out of a difficult situation.”
“Jaylen,” she said, her voice rough. “Come here.”
The boy went to her and handed her the medicine.
Her fingers trembled around the bottle.
Wendell saw the label.
Not enough to read everything, but enough to recognize the shape of a serious prescription. Heart medication. The kind that became terrifying when money ran out.
Mrs. Tate noticed him looking and turned the bottle inward.
“Thank you for bringing him home,” she said.
There was no invitation in her voice.
Wendell respected it.
“Of course.”
Jaylen looked back toward him, torn between pride and embarrassment.
