“I sure as hell did,” I say, a little too loud this time.
“Stop swearing in front of my son, Olivia.”
I look over. Teddy’s too focused on his Lego to even notice, but still, I lower my voice. “Sorry. But a little warning would have been nice.”
“Did you read my instructions on the fridge at all?”
I glance at the list on the fridge from my distance, where my Post-it note mocks me from the top. “Welp… no.”
He exhales sharply. “If you had, you would’ve known.”
“Well, forgive me for not memorising your ten commandments.”
I think I hear a snort. “Where’s Teddy?” His tone sharpens instantly.
“He’s right here. On the rug. Playing with his cars.”
“Good. Make sure he stays in his routine. Dinner by five.”
I snap a mock salute even though he can’t see me. “Yes, sir.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Fine. Yes,Daddy.”
There’s a growl on the other end, low and warning. “Olivia.”
“Okay, okay.” I grin. “What about Bash?”
Silence, then, “Why do you need to call me anything other than my full name?”
“Because that’s boring. I go by Liv, so you can go by Bash. We’re practically family, right? You being my brother’s best friend and all.”
He exhales heavily through the speaker. “You’re a nuisance,” he mutters. “You know that?”
“So I’ve been told.” I sing-song the words, then hang up before he can get the last word. And maybe, just maybe, I’m smiling too wide for someone who just survived a near-death experience with a demon dog.
7
Sebastian
By the time I make it home, the sun’s low and the clock’s edging toward seven. My boots hit the steps heavier than usual, and all I can think about is whether Teddy’s routine stayed intact.
Inside, the first thing I see is Olivia Mitchell standing in my kitchen. She’s wiping down the bench, hair clipped up out of her face, moving around like she belongs here. Like she’s been doing this for years. Blue jeans, a thick belt with a gold buckle I’ve seen her wear more than once, and a white T-shirt, tucked in neat. The farmer-girl uniform, worn without a second thought. She doesn’t even look at me before reaching for another dish towel. Natural. Effortless. Too damn easy to notice. I scrub the thought away. No.Not happening, Sebastian.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say, stopping just inside the door. “I can—”
“Hello to you too.” She cuts me off without even turning. “And don’t be silly. It’s what you’re paying me for, right?”
I pause. She’s got me there. A short nod is all I manage before I look around, scanning for Teddy.
“In his room,” she says, finally glancing over her shoulder. “He insisted on bathing himself. Didn’t want me near him.”
The words shouldn’t sting, but they do. That sounds about right. Still makes me sad every damn time. Because it’s not Olivia’s fault. It’s not anyone’s. It’s just how Teddy is: guarded and careful with who he lets close. And I get it, I do. But it still cuts when I hear he didn’t want her near him, wouldn’t let her help. Part of me wonders if I’ve made it worse. If the chaos of my life—shifts that stretch too long, the nannies who come and go, the constant patchwork of routines—has carved a deeper scar than I realised. He deserves stability, not a revolving door of strangers. And even though I’m trying, even though I’d burn the whole bloody world down to protect him, sometimes it feels like I’m failing before I even start.
I rake a hand through my hair, steadying myself, then head down the hall. When I push open his door, the sight hits me square in the chest. Teddy’s tucked up in bed, hair damp from his bath, dinosaur pyjamas slightly too big on his small frame. A book rests open on his lap, pages creased from use. He looks up once, just quick enough to see it’s me, then goes back to tracing the illustrations with his finger, like I’m background noise. And just like that, the ache eases. Because he’s safe. Because no matter how many times he pushes me out, I’ll keep finding ways back in.
“Hey, mate.” I sit on the edge of the mattress, hand brushing his blanket. “Good day today?”
