Just as I was trying to make sense of everything, a deep male voice called my name.

“June Rand?”

I turned toward the sound and saw a man standing at my front gate. He wore a dark navy work uniform and a baseball cap pulled low over his face. In his hand, he carried a toolbox, and the logo on his chest read: Southside Service Center. Next to him was a beat-up black electric scooter, its wheels caked with mud.

I immediately realized this must be Nathan—the private ...