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“About five thousand.”
I've always liked having some cash around the house. It comes from growing up in an environment where things could go sideways overnight. Having money tucked away always made me feel like I had at least one backup plan if everything else failed. I never imagined the person I was trying to protect would be the one emptying the drawer.
Officer Smith scans the kitchen. My stomach twists at the thought that it’s a crime scene. “Anything else missing that you've noticed so far?”
I shake my head. The truth is I probably won't notice everything until the next few days, when some random object I reach for isn't there anymore. Right now my brain is trying to process the bigger picture and the fact that my sister disappeared and left her baby behind. Again.
Officer Reyes finishes taking notes and closes his notebook with a soft snap. For a drawn-out moment, none of us say anything. Then Officer Smith nods once, signaling that they have what they need for now. He pauses near the door before leaving. “CPS will likely contact you. They'll want to confirm who’s responsible for the child's care and what the next steps are.”
The next steps. The phrase echoes in my head long after the door closes behind them and the apartment falls completely silent.
Peyton finally breaks the quiet. “Let's get Tilly down for the night.”
I nod, grateful for the direction. Chase stands too, but Peyton touches his arm before he can follow. “Sit,” she says softly. “You look like you're about to fall over.”
My brother opens his mouth like he might argue, then closes it and sinks back into the couch.
We move down the hallway together and into the nursery. The soft yellow nightlight casts a warm glow across the room as Peyton lowers Tilly carefully into the crib. My niece shifts slightly before settling again, her fist curling beside her cheek. We stand there for several moments watching her.
“It could’ve been worse if Chase was too late,” I mutter, unable to tear my eyes away from Tilly.
Peyton rests a hand on my back, rubbing a circle between my shoulder blades. “Let’s not focus on what-ifs.”
I drag a shaky hand over my face. “But—”
“You’ll only get more upset, handsome.”
Eventually we step back into the hallway and close the door halfway. Peyton leans against the wall and rubs her eyes while I run a hand through my hair.
“You holding up okay?” she asks.
“I think so,” I reply, which is probably a lie but the only answer I have.
“You did good tonight.”
I let out a tired laugh. “Didn't feel like it.”
“You did,” she insists.
The sound of Tilly crying when I burst into the apartment echoes in my head. I had no idea what I was walking into; all I knew was the baby was screaming and the place felt wrong. Now that the adrenaline has drained out of my system, the weight of today’s events settles in. The police report. The stolen items. CPS. Emergency custody that feels less temporary than it did yesterday. The idea of anyone else being responsible for Tilly feels wrong on many levels. That tiny human has carved out a permanent space in my life.
“Tilly stays here,” I say firmly.
Peyton goes still, but not in surprise. More like she's been waiting for me to say it out loud.
“Sure, it wasn't the original plan and life’s going to be complicated and expensive and probably chaotic from now on. CPS might ask questions, and courts might prod, and I don't even know how being granted permanent custody works. But the last few weeks have shown me how much I love her and after tonight…” My voice breaks slightly. “I can't imagine anyone else raising her.”
Her expression softens, nearly taking me out at the knees. “I don't want to do it alone,” I add.
She steps closer without hesitating. “Then don't.”
“Peyton—” I say, staring at her with awe.
“No.” Her voice is quiet but firm, leaving no room for misunderstanding or argument. “Don't talk yourself into thinking you're asking too much. Don't give me some noble speech about how I didn't sign up for this. I know what it all means.”
“You don't have to decide tonight.”
“I already have.”
