Chapter 47
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
JACKO
Ipull up outside the bakery, the engine idling as Maya unbuckles her seatbelt and turns to check on Lila in the backseat.
She’s still got toast crumbs on her jumper and a soft crease from her pillow on her cheek.
It makes my chest twist, how fiercely I want them safe.
How easily mornings like this could be permanent.
“Don’t forget your book bag,” Maya says, smoothing Lila’s hair.
Lila yawns and frowns. “Can we have pasta for dinner?”
Maya kisses her temple. “If Owen’s okay with that.”
“I think I can manage pasta,” I say with a grin, reaching back to squeeze Lila’s sock-covered foot. “Especially if we add cheese.”
Lila beams. Maya’s smile is slower, quieter, but it reaches her eyes. It still feels new, seeing her soften like that. Trusting me, a little more every day.
She kisses Lila goodbye, then climbs out. I round the truck to open the back door, lifting Lila out and settling her backpack on her shoulders. She’s in a puffer jacket with rainbow zips, her mittened hand tight in mine.
“I’ll pick you both up later,” I say, brushing my hand against Maya’s arm as she heads toward the bakery. “Text me if you want lunch.”
“I always want lunch,” she murmurs, and the glint in her eyes warms me all the way down.
I walk Lila down the street to the nursery she attends three days a week.
She skips toward the nursery doors, and I pull the door open and head into the room she spends her day in.
Once I’ve handed her over to the keyworker she waves and says “Bye Bear, see you later!” And she heads off to hang up her coat and bag, her curls bouncing behind her.
Then I turn the truck toward the rink, the quiet closing in around me.
Baking is something I used to do with my grandmother when she was still alive. I have fond memories of Sunday mornings spent kneading dough and mixing batter. Now I bake when I’m anxious. It calms me and helps me feel centred when the hockey has me like a coiled spring 24/7.
I know the guys know it, even if they never say it outright. I show up to morning skate with Tupperware full of protein bars and a carrot cake still warm in the tin, and I’m barely through the dressing room door before Murphy starts in.
“Christ, Bear, you baking through your feelings again?” Murphy grins, flipping a towel over his shoulder as he rifles through his locker.
“Wouldn’t have to if you lot weren’t such a stress hazard,” I mutter, setting the cake down on the counter with a little more force than necessary. “You want a slice or not?”
“Course I do,” he says. “Just checking what flavour your breakdown is today.”
The room bursts into laughter, Dylan smirking, Ollie shaking his head, Jonno lifting the Tupperware like treasure. Murphy’s got a mouth on him, always has, but underneath it is the kind of loyalty that’s held this team together through worse.
I pull on my gear and nod at the cake. “Carrot. With walnuts.”
“Fancy,” Dylan says. “Is that cream cheese frosting?”
“Obviously.”
Murphy slaps me on the back hard enough to nearly dislocate something. “You keep feeding us like this, we’re gonna lose you to Bake Off.”
“Only if they let me fight Paul Hollywood after round two.”
That gets a fresh round of laughter. The air shifts, lighter, easier. These mornings always sneak up on me, the way this team pulls me back from the edge. It’s not the ice that settles me. It’s them. The banter. The normality.
Coach walks in a few minutes later and rolls his eyes when he sees the tin. “We running a bloody bakery or a hockey team?”
“Both,” Ollie says through a mouthful of cake.
Skate is good. I feel solid. Strong. Like I’m working my way back to myself. But the second I’m off the ice, I’m pulling out my phone to check it. One missed call from Maya and a text.
MAYA: You okay to get Lila after nursery? Busy afternoon here.
JACKO: Of course. Want me to bring food?
She doesn’t reply right away, but that’s not unusual.
The bakery gets manic when the deliveries come in, and the community kitchen runs weekday prep.
I lean against the wall of the dressing room and open a bottle of water, still thinking about her when Murphy flops down next to me and steals a protein bar.
“You bake when you’re worried. You clean your locker when you’re spiralling. What’s next; knitting?”
I shoot him a look, but he just raises his brows. “You alright, mate?”
I nod. “Just… trying to keep things steady.”
He sobers a bit at that. “She doing okay? Maya?”
“She’s trying,” I say. “New place. New rhythm. I think it’s helping her to breathe.”
“Good. She deserves it.” He pauses, then says, “Sophie’s due next week. You reckon you could do one of those lemon loaves? The ones she likes?”
“Done,” I say. “I’ll send a few things with you when you go to the hospital.”
He nods, eyes going softer than usual. “Thanks, Jacko.”
I’m halfway through lacing my boots when my phone buzzes again. I glance down.
MAYA: I think Jamie’s outside. I’m sure it’s him. He’s across the street, just watching the bakery. I don’t know what to do.
My stomach drops. I push off the bench so fast the bottle top flies off my water. “Shit. Shit, shit.”
Ollie’s head snaps up. “What is it?”
“Maya says Jamie’s outside the bakery.”
The dressing room stills instantly. Murphy’s already halfway to his feet. “She sure?”
“Says she is.” I grab my keys. “I’m going.”
“I’m coming with you,” Ollie says without hesitation.
“Me too,” Murphy says.
Dylan pulls on his hoodie. “We’re all going.”
I don’t argue. I don’t have time. We pile into my truck like we’re heading to war.
It takes twelve minutes to get to the bakery. Twelve minutes where my brain claws at itself with every possible worst-case scenario. Jamie with a weapon. Jamie slipping into the kitchen while Maya’s distracted. Jamie doing something to scare her again.
I don’t even remember pulling up. I just know the tyres screech as I park across two spaces and throw the door open.
Maya’s standing just inside the bakery doors, arms crossed, face pale. She’s shaking. There’s no mistaking it. The tremble in her hands, the way her shoulders are hunched like she’s bracing for a blow. I’m through the doors in two strides.
“Maya.”
Her eyes meet mine and widen in relief then immediately flood with fresh panic.
“He was right there,” she whispers, pointing through the front windows. “By the lamppost. Just standing and watching. Then he was gone.”
“Okay. Okay.” I glance at the others, who fan out behind me, Dylan and Murphy scanning the street, Ollie heading round the side to check the alley. I turn back to her. “Did he come inside?”
She shakes her head. “No. He just stood there. But it was him, Owen. I know it was.”
I nod. “I believe you. Stay here.”
The guys check the bakery, the surrounding streets. Every corner, every alley. Nothing. No trace.
When Ollie comes back in, he shakes his head. “No sign of anyone.”
Maya sways. “No… no, that doesn’t make sense. He was there. I saw him. I know what I saw…”
“I believe you,” I say again, stepping forward to catch her before she collapses under the weight of it.
Her voice cracks. “What if he’s gone to the nursery?”
Silence. That kind of silence that screams.
“No,” she says, breath catching. “Owen, what if…what if he went to Lila instead. What if this was just a distraction?”
She’s shaking harder now, her eyes wide and wild. “You have to go. You have to go right now.”
“I’ll get her,” I say instantly, grabbing Ollie’s arm. “Let’s go.”
“I’ll stay with her,” Murphy says, already steering Maya toward the back office. “We’ve got her, Jacko. Go.”
I hesitate for only a second before sprinting back to the truck. We peel away from the curb like we’re being chased, tyres screeching, sirens wailing in my head.
“Do you think he’d actually…?” Ollie starts, but doesn’t finish.
“I don’t know,” I grit out, my hands locked around the wheel. “But I’m not taking the fucking chance.”
The drive to the nursery is minutes, but it feels like a lifetime. Every red light is a personal insult. Every slow-moving van in front of us a direct threat. My hands are clenched around the steering wheel, knuckles white, jaw tight.
“She’s fine,” Ollie says beside me. He’s trying to be calm. “She’s there. Safe. This is precaution, yeah?”
But I can’t answer. I can’t speak past the tightness in my throat. All I can think about is Maya’s voice, the way it broke when she said his name. The way her whole body trembled like a leaf in the wind.
If Jamie touched her, if he so much as looked at Lila, I’ll kill him. I take the next corner too fast. Ollie braces himself, one hand on the dash.
“Jesus, Jacko.”
“I’m fine.”
I’m not. Not even close.
We pull up outside the nursery and I throw the truck into park before the engine’s even off. I’m out of the cab in a heartbeat, pushing through the front gate and heading straight for the main door.
Inside, the woman at the reception desk blinks up at me. “Can I help?”
“I’m here for Lila. Lila Dawson.”
Her mouth opens, then closes again when Ollie steps in behind me. We’re both still in half our gear, sweat-damp from morning skate, and I must look like a man about to lose it.
“She’s fine,” the woman says gently. “She’s just gone into the quiet corner with some books. One moment.”
I nod, fists clenched at my sides. I scan every face, every door.
The rational part of me knows this place is secure, there’s coded locks, sign-in books, constant supervision.
There’s even a safe list of who can collect Lila.
But the rest of me, the part that has fallen in love with a tiny girl who calls me Bear, won’t believe she’s safe until I see her with my own eyes.
And then she’s there. Curls bouncing, cheeks flushed, her little backpack slightly askew. “Bear!” she yells, delighted.
My heart caves in. I drop to my knees as she barrels into me, wrapping her arms around my neck. “You came!”
“I came,” I choke out, hugging her tight. “Of course I did.”
She leans back and beams. “You brought Ollie too!”
Ollie gives a tired grin. “Couldn’t let Bear have all the fun, could I?”
“Are we going home early?” she asks, utterly unfazed, and I kiss the top of her head and breathe for the first time in twenty minutes.
“Yeah, Jellybean. Change of plans.”
We sign her out with the stunned staff and walk her back to the truck.
She chatters the whole way about glitter glue and pasta necklaces and how someone brought in a giant cucumber for Show and Tell.
I keep glancing around the street, eyes scanning for anything suspicious, but everything is quiet. Ordinary.
When I strap her into her car seat and she swings her legs in her rainbow tights, I take another deep breath. My heart is still thudding, but she’s here. She’s okay.
Ollie’s already texting the group chat.
OLLIE: Got her. All safe. On our way.
Maya’s response comes seconds later.
DYLAN: Maya says thank you.
The second we pull up to the bakery, Maya’s at the door.
She’s outside before I’ve even cut the engine, running across the pavement. I barely get Lila’s door open before Maya’s there, pulling her into her arms.
“Oh my god,” she breathes, sinking to her knees. “You’re okay. You’re okay, you’re okay.”
Lila, confused but cheerful, pats Maya’s face. “I’m fine, Mummy. Bear came to get me and Ollie came too. And now we’re back. Are we having lunch?”
Maya can’t answer. She just hugs her daughter tight, tears streaking down her cheeks. I crouch beside them, brushing a hand along Maya’s back, grounding her.
“He didn’t go to the nursery,” I say softly. “She was safe. Everyone there said no strangers approached. I promise.”
Her eyes meet mine, wet and raw. “I panicked.”
“You were right to call,” I say. “Always call me.”
She nods, pulling in a shaky breath before kissing Lila’s forehead again. “My brave girl.”
Behind us, Murphy and Dylan are lingering on the pavement. They look like they don’t quite know what to do with themselves, hulking and awkward in their trainers and hoodies, standing in a loose formation like a protective wall.
Lila peers around Maya’s shoulder and gasps. “Why are all the Raptors here?”
Before Maya can answer, Ollie steps up with a wide grin. “Team picnic, mate. And guess what? You’re the guest of honour.”
Her face lights up. “Do we get sandwiches?”
“We get whatever the guest of honour wants,” he says. “Even pasta. Especially with cheese.”
She wriggles in Maya’s arms. “Mummy! You said we could have pasta!”
Maya lets out a laugh that’s half-sob. “We did. And we will.”
Ollie ruffles her curls and glances at me. “You alright?”
I nod, throat thick. “Yeah. I am now.”
Murphy wanders over, holding a protein bar. “Tell you what, if this is what I get every time I eat one of your weird emotional snacks, I’m never stopping.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, but there’s no heat in it. I look down at Maya and Lila again, they’re safe, wrapped around each other like the world could spin out and they wouldn’t notice.
“Come on,” Maya says after a long moment, standing with Lila in her arms. “Let’s go inside.”
We file back into the bakery, Maya, me, Lila, and the entire Raptors front line like some kind of oversized security detail. Lila asks if we can make cookies next. Maya promises her we will. And I think, yeah. We will.
Whatever comes next, we’ll handle it.
Together.