And maybe that doesn’t come from anything big at all. Maybe it starts small. A chance. A change. Even something as ridiculous as a scribbled noticeboard ad I snapped a photo of. I don’t know.But I can’t stop thinking about it, which probably means it’s worth paying attention to.
3
Sebastian
Single fatherhood is ninety per cent logistics, nine per cent caffeine, and one per cent praying your kid doesn’t tell the teacher you said “fuck” in traffic. So far, I’m batting a solid fifty-fifty.
“Daniels,” Reynolds calls across the office. “Tell me you finally replaced that dinosaur laptop of yours. The thing sounds like a lawnmower every time you log in.”
“Don’t knock the classics,” I shoot back, leaning over my desk.
“Not when it’s a HP from 2009,” Woody says, grinning around his coffee cup. “Pretty sure my microwave runs faster.”
Bradley smirks from his corner, eyes flicking between us like he’s pretending to be above the shit-talking. The man’s softened since Amelia. Hell, love looks good on him, but the old broody bastard still lurks under the surface.
“I’m waiting for the day the thing actually catches fire,” Stokes adds. “Then maybe you’ll get an upgrade.”
“Or maybe I’ll just steal Woody’s,” I say. “He won’t notice. He never closes his tabs anyway.”
Woody points at me. “Don’t touch my tabs.”
Across the room, Emma, our newest on the team, snorts, not even looking up from her file.
“Unbelievable. You’re all supposed to be superintendents and inspectors, yet you argue like ten-year-olds. No wonder Mitchell always has headaches.”
“Careful,” I warn. “Keep talking like that, and Bradley might cry. Sensitive soul, that one.”
Bradley flips me the finger without looking up, which only makes Emma grin wider. “Please. You’d all be lost without me.”
She’s right, though. Emma doesn’t take shit from anyone—not from me, not from Mitchell, and definitely not from the guys who think walking in with a badge means something. She is the reason this place runs as smoothly as it does. She keeps the schedule tight, the egos in check, and the entire ops board from going up in flames most weeks. Hell, I don’t say it out loud, but we’d be screwed without her. And she knows it.
I’ve been stationed in the office more since my promotion. Bradley was bumped up a couple of years ago and made sure I was brought onto his team when the opening came up. We’ve been working side by side for a long time—started out on the same beat, moved up from constables to sergeants together. Now we’re both part of the rural intelligence unit, handling regional intel and high-risk jobs across the district. I work five days on, two off. The weekends are non-negotiable. That time belongs to Teddy.
My phone buzzes on the desk, and I glance down.Unknown number.Normally, I’d ignore it. But something in my gut twists, so I answer it.
“Mr. Daniels? This is Mrs. Carter from Wattle Creek Primary.”
My spine snaps straight. “Is Teddy okay? What happened?”
“He’s fine,” she says quickly. “He’s here with me now—”
Here with me now?My gaze cuts to the wall clock. Three forty-five. Shit.
School finished at three.
I grip the phone tighter. “Sorry, what do you mean? Tara hasn’t picked him up?”
Tara. Teddy’s forty-something-year-old nanny, who I trust to handle all the in-betweens I can’t manage with this job. She’s been with us nearly two years now and hasnevermissed a pick-up. Reliable isn’t even the word. She’s consistent. Predictable. The kind of woman who sets five alarms and shows up ten minutes early just in case.
So where the hell is she?
“No, Mr. Daniels,” Mrs. Carter says gently. “But Teddy is absolutely safe. I just didn’t want you to worry if you were expecting him home.”
Too late. My heart is already thundering.
“Yeah. Yeah, thank you. I’ll be right there.”
I hang up, shoving back from my chair so hard, it rattles. My pulse hammers against my ribs.
