Chapter 20
Roque
I pulled into the driveway just as Kairo hit his stride with a story about a big bird and a sunflower.
“No, Roque— on the yellow flower,” he emphasized from the back seat, eyes wide in the rearview mirror. “Bird was blue, and it was eatin’ the middle. The middle .”
I smiled as I killed the engine, soaking in every word of his ramble. It sounded trippy as hell, like some psychedelic scene from a dream or a kid’s cartoon, but the way he told it had me locked in.
It was the sound of him coming back to himself.
Kairo hadn’t been this open since he’d come to live with me. After his parents died, he’d shut down and withdrawn. There was a blankness behind his eyes that used to gut me. But now he was talking again. Dreaming and letting himself be that little boy again for a while.
I had a strong feeling part of that shift came from Sayla.
She’d worked her magic in that room—car decals on the walls, cop dog bedding, and a little nightlight glowing the most beautiful light across the ceiling. The kind of space that told a kidyou belong here. I’d read about how important it was for foster kids to have a room that felt liketheirs, not just a place to sleep. It helped with the fear and the sadness they couldn’t name yet and made them feel wanted and safe.
I glanced at Sayla’s place as I got the kids out of their seats—there was no sign of her car, and a little pang tugged at me.
She was usually home before me on Thursdays, so I wondered where she’d gone. She could be doing errands or maybe visiting her sister. Still, I couldn’t help the quiet flicker of worry that came with caring about someone more than you planned to.
Headlights washed over the front yard as I set Kaida down, and her little body jolted with recognition.
“Saylaaaa!” she shrieked, bouncing on her heels.
Kairo waved, his smile stretching wide. “Hi, Sayla!”
She stepped out of the car smiling, keys in hand, hair catching the last of the sun. The second she saw them, she softened like they were her own.
“Hey, guys,” she called, walking over. “You two have a good day?”
Kaida stretched her arms out toward her and pointed to the front door, already making demands in toddler-speak. Sayla just laughed.
“Oh, you wanna go in? Well, alright then, lead the way.”
I turned the alarm off and held the door open while she shepherded them inside. They were both already competing to be the first to tell her everything. Kairo was still caught up on the sunflower bird, and Kaida was mostly stringing sounds together with random toy names thrown in. But Sayla listened like they were giving a press conference.
She took them to the bathroom to wash their hands, still chatting with them, patient as ever. That warmth of hers—that ability to tune into them like they were the only thing that mattered—was something I hadn’t known I’d been missing until it showed up in the house next door.
A thought hit me as I leaned in the doorway, watching her crouch to dry Kaida’s hands with a smile. Kairo’s birthday, he was turning three in a month.
God, it snuck up fast. It felt like I was still learning to be the guy they relied on, and now I was supposed to throw a party, too. Still, Iwantedto. I wanted it to be big, loud, and full of color, cake, and chaos. I wanted him to feel celebrated—like the world had never been happier to have him in it.
I made a mental note to talk to Sayla about it later and maybe ask her sister to do the cake. She’d made a beautiful one for her daughter a while back, and I’d been obsessed with it for days afterward. The detail and almost art-like decorations on the cake had been outstanding, and don’t even get me started on the taste. It was a work of art.
We were piecing together something here—something messy and beautiful, and I’d be damned if I didn’t give that kid a birthday worth remembering.
When Kaida’s hands were dry, she turned to Sayla and tugged at her fingers, leading her with determined little steps toward the kitchen.
“Din-dins,” she sang, looking back with that big-eyed seriousness only toddlers could pull off. “Sayla, din-dins.”
Sayla laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Is that my invitation?”
I smiled. “Looks like it.”
She looked at me as I opened the fridge and pulled out what I needed for dinner. “What’s on the menu?”
“Salmon and pea risotto,” I said. “Figured it’s soft and easy for them to eat. The cheese hides the peas, so they barely notice them. Plus, it looked simple enough not to mess up.”
She leaned against the counter. “Want me to make it?”
I glanced at her, noting she was trying to sound casual, but the fatigue was written all over her face. Her eyes had that kind of heaviness that came from a long day with no real break.
“Nah, you’ve been on your feet all day, go chill with the kids. I’ve got this.”
She nodded gratefully and took Kaida’s hand again. “Come on, you two.” She guided them toward the living room. “Let’s find the crayons.”
I heard the rustle of paper and the excited shuffle of feet as she pulled out the coloring books. Kairo’s little voice carried down the hall, asking for the dinosaur pages, while Kaida squealed over something pink.
I turned back to the stove and got started. It was going fine—the rice was toasted, the broth was added in batches, and the salmon was flaked and ready to go—until I got distracted by checking a message from Kai about Nolan’s charges being formally filed. When I looked up again, the risotto was threatening to turn on me.
“Damn it.”
“Woah, careful.” Sayla was suddenly behind me, appearing like magic and sweeping in to rescue the pan.
She grabbed the spatula, stirred like a pro, and added a bit more stock and a quick handful of parmesan. Somehow, she turned it from “questionable” to “restaurant quality” in less than a minute.
“You weren’t kidding,” I muttered, impressed.
She offered a tired smile. “Risotto waits for no one.”
That’s when I really looked at her. The shadows under her eyes, the slump in her shoulders—this wasn’t just end-of-day tired, this was‘something happened’tired.
“You okay?” I asked quietly, stepping closer. “You look beat.”
She hesitated, like she was weighing whether to say anything, then sighed. “Last night, I heard something breaking outside my place, and it put the willies up me.”
I stilled. “What?”
“I didn’t see anyone, but I heard it, so I stayed up for hours afterward. You know when you just can’t settle?”
I clenched my jaw, already moving toward the front door. “I’m gonna check it out.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“I do,” I argued firmly, pulling my keys out.
Finding the broken pane in a side window facing the backyard didn't take long. It’d been smashed from the outside, and there were fresh footprints in the soil below it—the kind of thing you could easily miss if you weren’t looking.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Judd.
“We’ve got something,” I told him once he picked up. “Broken window at Sayla’s. Looks like someone tried to get in, but she scared them off.”
“Shit,” he muttered. “You in Piersville right now?”
“Yeah.”
“Man, it’s killing me to remind you, but you need to call DB.”
DB picked up after two rings. “Roque?”
“Hey, we’ve got a situation,” I told him quickly. “Looks like someone tried to break into Sayla’s house last night. We’ve got an active case on our end involving her, and this might be connected.”
He was quiet for a beat. “All right, I’ll send a unit to secure the scene. Keep her at your place, and don’t let her near it.”
“Got it.”
I hung up and took one last look at the window before heading back across the yard, heart pounding harder than I liked. Whoever did this wasn’t just sending a message anymore, they were testing the lock. And I was done waiting for them to knock.
Sayla helped me get the kids down, but they were both so full and sleepy that they barely made a fuss. Kaida was out the moment her head hit the pillow, and Kairo only made it a few minutes longer, mumbling something about the sunflower bird before drifting off.
We crept through to the kitchen, rinsing dishes and stacking them in the dishwasher. She worked beside me like she’d always belonged in that space, sleeves pushed up, her hair a little messy from bedtime chaos.
“Sayla,” I began, drying my hands on a towel, “you can’t go home tonight.”
She straightened, brow lifting slightly. “Why?”
“In about five minutes, Kai’s going to get here to stay with the kids. You and I are gonna walk over to your place, pack you a bag, and you’re staying here for a while.”
She blinked. “Wait, what?”
“It’s sooner than we wanted, I know,” I said, lowering my voice. “I wanted to ease into this because of the kids, but we don’t have that luxury now.”
“What happened?”
I hesitated for just a second, then said it straight. “Someone tried to break in. I found a broken window pane, and the soil was disturbed under it. It wasn’t just a random crack in the glass, it was deliberate.”
She didn’t flinch and didn’t look scared, but she definitely gotpissed.
“What kind of asshole does that?” she snapped. “Do they not realize how expensive that’s going to be? Ijustgot the damn plumbing sorted and the bath removed from my living room. My insurance is already side-eyeing me.” She gestured with her arm in the direction of her house. “They’re probably wondering if I’m fit to live alone at this point and if I’m compos mentis. First, the bath drops through the ceiling, now this? Guess I’ll be asking them to help pay for the damn window too.”
“I’ve already started the ball rolling on fixing it,” I assured her calmly. “DB’s sending some guys over to secure the place, and a friend’s coming to fix it first thing in the morning. Don’t worry about it.”
She looked at me for a beat, some of the anger simmering down as her shoulders dropped.
“What about the kids? Are they going to be okay with me being here?”
“We just have to be careful. We keep everything we do around them slow and mindful. Make it feel normal and safe and clear they come first.”
She gave me a look like I’d asked her something ridiculous. “Obviously.”
That simple and firm response told me everything I needed to hear.
A knock came at the door—Kai, punctual as ever.
Sayla gave me a small nod and reached for her coat. “All right, let’s go pack a bag. But fair warning, I don’t travel light.”
I smiled. “Don’t I know it. Don’t worry, you’ve still got your closet space there from before.”
And with that, we stepped out into the dark, leaving the warmth of home behind for a few minutes, with every intention of keeping it protected when we returned.