He had watched Grandma change from the woman who could carry three grocery bags at once into someone who now needed help simply walking downstairs.

So I hugged him.

“Sweetheart, Grandma is safe. I’m right across the hall.”

“I know.”

“Then sleep in your bed tonight.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t.

That was also around the time my brother, Jason, began coming over almost every day.

Jason is four years younger than me. He runs a small contracting business and has always been charming, impulsive, and completely convinced that he can fix almost anything.

After Mom’s surgery, he seemed determined to make himself useful.

He changed a light fixture I’d been ignoring for six months.

He brought groceries.

He repaired the loose railing on the stairs.

Whenever I needed to leave the house, he would say, “Go. I’ve got Mom.”

I even gave him a spare key. With Mom recovering under my roof, it seemed practical to have another member of the family who could get inside quickly if something happened.

I remember feeling grateful.

Then I began noticing something strange.

Tyler had started following him.

If Jason went upstairs, Tyler followed him upstairs.

If Jason sat beside Mom’s bed, Tyler suddenly needed to show Grandma a drawing.

If Jason offered to stay with her while I ran errands, Tyler suddenly stopped wanting to come with me.

At first, I thought he was simply being possessive.

Then one Saturday, Jason started upstairs carrying a cup of Mom’s tea.

Tyler immediately stood up.

Jason stopped halfway up the stairs.

“You coming too?”

Tyler nodded.

Jason laughed.

“What’s with you, little bodyguard?”

He reached over and ruffled Tyler’s hair.

Tyler didn’t smile.

That bothered me.

But instead of stopping to ask myself why, I got irritated.

Later that day, I pulled Tyler aside.

“Uncle Jason is trying to help Grandma.”

“I know.”

“You don’t have to follow him everywhere.”

Tyler stared down at the carpet.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

He didn’t say anything.

I crouched down in front of him.

“If Grandma needs something, she can call me. Uncle Jason isn’t bothering her.”

Tyler finally lifted his eyes toward me.

“Okay, Mom.”

That night, he slept outside her bedroom door again.

I carried him back to his own bed sometime around midnight.

At two in the morning, he was back in the hallway.

I started wondering whether his fear about Grandma’s health had become serious enough that I should find him a counselor.

Then last Thursday happened.

A little after four in the morning, I woke because I thought I could hear someone talking.

I stayed still for a moment and listened.

Another quiet whisper came from the hallway.

I got out of bed and slowly opened my bedroom door.

Tyler was lying outside Mom’s room beneath his dinosaur blanket.

But he wasn’t sleeping.

He was staring directly at the door handle.

One small hand was gripping the edge of his pillow.

Then I heard him whisper to himself.

“I won’t fall asleep tonight.”

I almost said something.

Then he added, so quietly I nearly missed it,

“I won’t let Uncle Jason do it to Grandma again.”

I froze where I stood.

“Tyler?”

He jumped so hard that his blanket slipped off his body.

I hurried toward him.

“What did you just say?”

His eyes immediately filled with tears.

“Nothing.”

“Tyler.”

He glanced nervously toward Mom’s bedroom.

“Mom, promise you won’t tell anyone.”

I lowered my voice.

“What won’t you let Uncle Jason do again?”

His mouth began to tremble.

Every terrible possibility my mind could create seemed to arrive at once.

I sat down beside him.