“It was… okay,” he says, his eyes fixed on the book.
“What’d you do?”
“Stuff.”
That’s it. That’s all I get. And I know better than to push. So I take the book from him, flip to the first page, and start reading. His shoulders loosen, head tilting slightly as he listens. Every word seems to sink straight in, his eyes going wide at thegood parts, his fingers twitching along the illustrations like he’s painting them inside his mind. I watch him more than the page.
I wonder what it’s like in there, or the way he sees the world. If I could live in his head for a day, I’d take it. Just to understand him better. Just to make things easier for him. When I finish the chapter, he leans back against the pillows without a word. Eyes heavy. Breathing steady.
I tuck the blanket higher, brush a hand over his hair, and let myself sit there a little longer than usual. No matter how clipped his words are, no matter how much distance he puts between himself and everyone else, Teddy’s my whole world.
I find Olivia in the kitchen where I left her, towel slung over her shoulder, rinsing plates that were already spotless. Her presence here both grates on me because she moves with an ease that doesn’t belong to someone on their first day in a stranger’s house, yet comforts me all at once.
My eyes stray before I can stop them, tracing the way her jeans hug her waist, the curve of her hips, the smallness of her frame. Petite. Deliberate in every movement, even when she’s not trying. I push it down and head for the table. The chair creaks under my weight when I sit, and the sigh that slips out feels heavier than I meant it to. The kind that comes from hours of reports stacked high on my desk, meetings that lead nowhere, and the one phone call I can’t stop replaying in my head—the one we didn’t get to in time. We’d been tracking a knowndomestic violence offender through a string of rural towns, pulling together scraps—credit card pings, witness statements, grainy CCTV footage. Then we got a call from his ex-partner. Said he’d breached the AVO. Her voice was shaking as she rattled off the address. We were two hours out. By the time we got there, she was already gone. Being part of the intelligence team means we’re not always first on scene—we’re the ones behind the curtain, trying to predict the move before it happens. Sometimes that’s enough. This time, it wasn’t. We finally made the arrest we’d been chasing, but at what cost?
This job isn’t something you clock out of. It follows you home, sits with you at the table, crawls into bed beside you. I’ve been doing this for seventeen years, and it doesn’t get easier. Doesn’t get better. You just learn how to carry it without letting it crack you open.
I’m lucky this week. Finishing just before seven is an early finish. It gives me a chance to walk through the door while Teddy’s still awake, because I know it won’t always be like this.
Hell, it’s rarely like this.
Her head turns at the sound of my sigh. Before I know it, she’s pulling two beers from the fridge, twisting the tops off like she’s done it a thousand times. She sets one in front of me with a little flourish and drops into the chair across the table, grin bright enough to mock the exhaustion in my bones.
“You look like you could use one.” She takes a sip before I can even open my mouth. She’s too observant for my liking. Must be a Mitchell trait, because her brother is the same.
“You don’t have to—”
“Don’t start.” She waves me off, flicking her wrist like I’m the ridiculous one. “I’ve got two brothers, remember? I know what it looks like when a man’s wiped out. You’re radiating it.”
I glance at the bottle in front of me, hesitate, then bring it to my lips anyway. The cold, bitter taste offers a momentaryreprieve, and I focus on that. Because it’s easier to focus on that than the woman sitting across from me, all eyes and instincts and unsettling insight. I remind myself again that I need to keep this professional. I can’t afford anything else.
She props her chin on her palm. “So… how was work, Bash?”
My shoulders stiffen at the nickname, jaw already grinding. “Fine.”
Her brows rise like she’s calling bullshit without saying the word. “That’s it? Just fine?”
“Work is work.”
She narrows her eyes. “Bradley used to pull that same stunt. He’d come home all broody and closed off, and when I asked about his day, he’d grunt something about it being ‘fine.’ That was it. Nothing else. I had to pry the details out of him like nails out of wood.”
Despite myself, my mouth twitches. “Sounds like him.”
Her face lights up like she’s scored a point. “So what’s your version of ‘fine’, Bash? Don’t tell me paperwork. You don’t fool me.”
I set the bottle down a little harder than intended. The thud echoes between us. “First of all, don’t call me that.”
“Why not? Liv. Bash. Perfect symmetry.”
I level her with a look. “I’m not your symmetry.”
Her smirk stretches, slow and teasing. “Not yet.”
Christ. The words slide under my skin, striking something warm I don’t want to feel. I pinch the bridge of my nose and exhale through it. “Cases are confidential. Even if they weren’t, you don’t want to know.”
“Try me.” She leans forward now, elbows on the table, eyes locked on mine like she’s daring me to crack. I study her. She isn’t just nosy, and that’s the problem. Shewantsto know. Wants to see the parts of me I don’t put on display for anyone. Not even Bradley. Especially not Bradley.
It throws me. Because gone are the days when I’d let someone in just for the distraction. I don’t have the time, or the bandwidth, or the right. My life isn’t mine anymore. It’s Teddy’s. Every hour, every decision, every ounce of myself belongs to him. That’s how it has to be.
