Chapter 32 #2
I arch a brow, forcing a smirk. “So many secrets between you two, huh?”
Olivia shrugs, all casual confidence. “I made him pinky promise.”
Teddy nods solemnly at my side, but I can’t tear my eyes from her. Not when that smile stretches a fraction wider, not when whatever the hell this is thumps under my ribs like it’s fighting to get out.
The crowd thins as people drift outside or break into smaller groups. The chaos softens into background noise. Laughter. The pop of a balloon. Harrison shouts at Michael for nicking the last sausage roll. I keep my voice low. “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”
She shrugs, tone light, her eyes anything but. “I know you’re not big on birthdays. I get it. But I love them. I love celebrating people. And I don’t think you should miss out just because you’re committed to being a grump.”
The corner of my mouth lifts.
Her voice drops as she continues, “You know, when Bradley used to talk about you, back when he first started at the station, he always called you the jokester. Said you were the guy who kept morale up. Pulled pranks. Made everyone laugh just by showing up.”
My brows knit together, caught off guard by the picture she paints.
Yeah. I used to be that guy, didn’t I?
“I think… under all the walls and the dad-mode and the routine, he was right,” she says. “I think there’s still a fun, adventurous guy under there. One who actually appreciates life. One who deserves to be celebrated, even if he forgot how.”
My throat tightens. Because—fuck. She’s right.
Somewhere between night shifts, packing school lunches, and balancing overtime hours, I stopped living.
It all became a checklist. Routine. Duty.
Survival. And then came her. Olivia makes me feel like there’s more.
Like life might actually be worth noticing again.
Not just getting through, but really living.
And that should feel like a gift. Something good. But instead, it’s terrifying.
Because she’s full of life and light, and I’ve spent so long buried under the weight of responsibility, under the kind of pressure that never lets up. She deserves freedom. Laughter. Someone who knows how to give softness without strings attached.
I don’t know how to be that.
Not when everything in my life hinges on staying grounded. For Teddy. For my career. For the stability I’ve fought so damn hard to build. I just need to find the right way to tell her that… without breaking something that already feels too fragile to touch.
“Thank you, Olivia,” I manage eventually, voice rough with everything I’m not saying.
Her eyes drop for a second to my mouth, before a soft smile pulls at hers. “You’re welcome, Bash.”
The balcony is quiet, or as close as it gets in a house full of noise and people. I lean against the railing, soaking in a breath that doesn’t do what it’s supposed to. The breeze is warm, carrying the scent of charcoal, alcohol, and eucalyptus, but it doesn’t cut through the fog in my head.
Below, Emma’s laugh slices through the music, Harrison’s monologuing about something again, and Sandra’s berating someone over the guac.
From up here, it all feels distant. Like I’ve slipped just far enough out of reach to pretend I’m not part of it.
I cradle my beer, eyes on the sky as it bleeds from burnt orange into navy.
I’ve been out here for ten minutes pretending the silence helps.
Pretending I’m not out here for the exact reason Bradley is about to point out.
“Didn’t think you’d be the type to hide out,” he says from behind me.
“Wasn’t hiding.”
He doesn’t push. Just sidles up to the railing, our shoulders brushing, eyes tracking the yard below. “That’s usually what people say when they are.”
I huff out something like a laugh. “Just needed a minute.”
“Sure. That, or a break from trying not to stare at Liv all night.”
I do my best to school my expression before he can clock it, but I can’t help the way my body freezes, and my jaw sets. “Nah. It’s not like that.”
“No?”
I shake my head, but it’s all reflex. No conviction behind it. He doesn’t press. Just allows the silence to do what it does best.
“You’d tell me, right?”
I glance at him then, brows furrowing. “Tell you what?”
“If something was going on.” He pauses. “If there was more to it than just her watching Teddy.” His tone isn’t hostile, not even suspicious. It’s steady. Calm. The kind of calm that leaves no room for bullshit. “You’re my mate, Daniels. I know you. But, I’m also her brother.”
That lands like a stone between us. “Exactly. She’s your sister.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Nothing is happening.” The words taste stale the moment they leave my mouth.
Necessary, but hollow. “It’s not like that.
She’s been helping with Teddy, just temporarily.
She’s been great with him. With the both of us—” I pause, because I don’t know what Bradley’s clocked, and I don’t want to find out.
I just know it needs to stop here. “But that’s all it’s meant to be,” I add, quieter now. “Temporary.”
Bradley watches me like he’s trying to read beneath the surface. Eventually, he nods, and I take that as my window, shifting my stance. “How’s Amelia been holding up with all the late nights and overtime?”
“Better than I am,” Bradley mutters, running a hand over his jaw. “And that’s with putting up with my moods and now the insomnia. She’s a trooper, you know that.”
“She is. Putting up with you should be her full-time job.”
“Piss off.” He snorts, shaking his head before leaning back against the railing.
We fall into easy small talk. Updates from the station.
The latest on the drug surveillance op. A rookie nearly blowing weeks of work because he got too eager.
Classic. I almost smile because I remember being that rookie once.
Running on adrenaline and stubborn pride, convinced I was untouchable.
But I’m not that guy anymore. I still get the same rush—the unpredictability, the weight of split-second decisions—but now it comes with pressure. A heaviness in my chest that doesn’t let up. Because every move matters. Every choice could mean me or my colleagues not making it home.
We’ve all had our share of close calls. Fists to the jaw. Machetes swung within an inch. I’ve stared down the barrel of a gun held by a kid just barely out of school.
Then there was the night of the Westbridge Road fires. Bradley and I, shoulder to shoulder in smoke, chaos, and hell. People called us all heroes. But we’ve never talked about it. Some things you just don’t.
That’s why I’d been gunning so hard for the new role.
A shift off the front line. Intelligence work—pulling reports, coordinating ops, briefing units—it’s the kind of longevity I need.
It’s strategy. Control. Less chance of Teddy growing up with old memorabilia or a photo frame.
He deserves a father, not a legacy. And definitely not the fallout from my so-called love life.
The first time, I was young, reckless. A few nights with the wrong person and suddenly, everything changed.
Teddy came from that. My greatest gift, born from a choice I hadn’t thought through.
Not long after I met him, I made the choice of letting someone else in again, and it got messy.
Of course, when it fell apart, Teddy was right there in the middle of it. Again.
That was the moment I promised myself: never again.
Because he deserves better than that kind of confusion.
Sometimes, I wonder if I even know how to love the way people are supposed to.
Freely. Fully. Maybe I’m not built for falling headfirst without overthinking every step.
My love’s always been cautious. Measured out in safe distances.
But Olivia? She doesn’t fit in that kind of space. She’s warmth. Light. Hope. And I’d only dim that. She deserves more than the version of me that’s still learning how to let someone in without conditions.
And I’m a bloody idiot for letting it get this far.
Bradley finishes his drink and claps a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll chat soon, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He heads back inside without another word, the screen door clicking behind him. I don’t move. I just stay there, hand curled around a full bottle, staring out at nothing. And for some reason, I can’t shake the feeling he didn’t believe a single word I said.