“You burn grilled cheese,” Holly says.
“One time.”
“Three times.”
Lucy presses a hand to her mouth to smother a laugh.
“Traitor,” I mutter.
Holly snuggles even closer to Lucy. “Uncle Ash is like my pretend daddy.”
My heartbeat stutters. Lucy seems to stop breathing. Holly sighs. “I like having a pretend daddy.”
She looks up at Lucy. “Do you have a daddy?”
Lucy hesitates. Then she speaks quietly. “I had a grandma. She and mommy and Uncle Ash raised me. Every Christmas she helped me decorate my room. We’d hang garlands and lights and read stories. She was my favorite person in the whole world but she died last year, that’s why Uncle Ash has to watch me now while mommy works away.”
Holly’s voice softens. “Do you miss her?”
“Every day,” Lucy says.
Holly nods and rests her head on Lucy’s lap. “I miss her and Mommy every day.”
Lucy brushes Holly’s hair back with gentle fingers. “Missing someone means you loved them. That’s a good thing.”
Holly closes her eyes. I swear the room shifts around me. Lucy looks at me again—really looks. Like she’s seeing past theuniform, past the scowl, past the weight I carry. And something in her gaze changes. Softens. Warms. Breaks me down without touching me.
She whispers—too soft for Holly to hear, but not too soft for me: “You’re doing a good job, Ash.”
I swallow hard. “Trying.”
“You’re not trying,” she counters quietly. “You’re protecting her. You’re giving her safety and love and stability when her whole world changed. That’s not trying. That’s showing up. That’s… everything.”
Her voice hits something raw. Something I don’t let anyone get close to.
I look away because if I don’t, I might say something I can’t take back.
Holly falls asleep five minutes later, curled against Lucy with a death grip on her sweater.
Lucy whispers, “Should I move her?”
“No,” I say. “She’ll wake.”
Lucy nods, stroking Holly’s hair with soft, steady movements. She looks… different like this. Softer. Almost fragile. I can’t stop watching her. The way her fingers move gently.
The way her shoulders curve protectively around Holly. The way she hums a little tune under her breath, probably without realizing. It hits me harder than I expect.
I clear my throat. “So. Books.”
She lifts a brow. “Yes, Lieutenant Calder. Books. They exist. I know that’s shocking for you.”
“I read.” The words are too defensive, too fast.
She grins. “Oh yeah? Something dangerous, I assume. Like the town code manual.”
“I’ve read that.”
“Of course you have.” She smirks. “You probably read it for fun.”
