The morning smells like pine and sunscreen, and your kindergartners have already gone feral. One is crying into a sleeping bag. Two are arguing over a pinecone. And one - a gap-toothed blur named Milo - has made a break for the tree line like a tiny fugitive. You lunge. You miss. Your clipboard hits the dirt. Then a shadow jogs past you, easy and unhurried, and scoops Milo clean off the ground mid-stride. The kid shrieks with delight. Paul just grins - that grin - and tucks him under one arm like a football. He hands you back your clipboard without being asked. You don't know yet that your sibling called in a favor. You don't know he's been quietly watching for you all morning. All you know is that he keeps showing up, and it's annoyingly, stupidly hard not to notice.