Chapter 2 #2
I followed Jazz into the kitchen, which was empty and dimly lit, with the detritus of a celebration scattered across the work surfaces.
I zeroed in on the cookies, stuffing two in my mouth before I’d even asked if it was okay to have more than one.
Jazz snickered under his breath, and heat crawled up the back of my neck.
Embarrassed, I wiped a few crumbs from my fingers and forced a laugh that didn’t quite sound real.
He moved toward the counter, reaching for a mug.
“Cocoa? Coffee?” he asked, glancing back at me.
I looked at my watch—nine-fifteen. Too early to be this tired, but not likely to sleep much now anyway. “Coffee, please,” I said finally. “Black.”
As he turned away, I noticed baby bottles on the side, a sterilizer humming, and a couple of bibs folded neatly nearby.
The sight caught me off guard—a small, unexpected glimpse of something that didn’t belong.
I reached out, tidying the surface without thinking, stacking lids and aligning bottles to give my hands something to do.
“A visitor’s baby?” I asked Alex, and he sighed.
“No, we had a new arrival early this morning,” Alex murmured, placing bottles in the sterilizer and turning it on at the wall.
I flicked a glance at him. No staff here volunteered information about residents, particularly Alex. “Okay?”
“A dad and his daughter…” He picked up the coffee Jazz had made and passed it to me, then pushed a plate of cookies my way, encouraging me to take them. “I was going to talk to you in the morning.”
“I’m here now.”
“You’re sure?” He sounded so damn hopeful.
“Yep, go ahead.” I was already thinking about how much cash I had in my personal account to pass over if that was what they needed, and I was calling it a done deal because I assumed that was what he needed. Money for a cradle, or diapers, or whatever else babies require.
He led me into the office and closed the door, shutting out the muffled sounds of the Hall.
I’d been here before, more than a few times.
I’d helped fund the music program, given extra money into rebuilding the rec room, and made sure their supplies never ran dry.
Supporting Guardian Hall wasn’t charity; it was something I needed to do, a way to ground myself in something real.
This office was the hub—screens flickered with feeds from security cameras, the glow reflecting off brand-new laptops I’d personally sourced for them.
The security system, designed by my own tech team, was state-of-the-art and necessary here.
I couldn’t offer the kind of help that healed the mind or eased the nightmares—talking had never been my skill.
What I did have was money, influence, and the ability to make sure Guardian Hall stayed safe.
Out of all the charities my foundation supported, this one mattered most. I don’t know why.
I hadn’t served, no one in my family had, yet somehow this place—these people—were the only thing that felt real to me.
I nibbled on another cookie, washed it down with the coffee, and waited for Alex to talk. He had this way about him where he considered everything he said, and I’d gotten used to his silences—his pauses that filled the air with more meaning than most people’s words.
“I can get you money quickly, but the foundation takes a few days—”
“No.” He shook his head. “This isn’t about money, it’s about your security team, and contacts with the cops and…” He pressed his fingers to his temple. “Maybe a lawyer or a PI?”
“Huh?”
He bit his lip—I didn’t rush him, then finally, he spoke. “There’s something I need to tell you, but I don’t have the full context yet—potentially a criminal situation,” he said carefully.
I sat back, coffee halfway to my lips. “Okay?”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “A veteran arrived early this morning, with a baby, says he’s the father, and that the mother’s dead.
Overdose.” He exhaled, looking down at his hands.
“I don’t want to bring the cops here, Cole.
I won’t bring the cops here for any veteran in need.
However, I’m concerned about the impact on our other guests and the potential triggers it might cause. I’d like to handle it with caution.”
“Right. Okay.” I hesitated only a moment, then reached for my phone, scrolling until I found the one person I trusted with something at this level. She answered on the first ring.
“This had better be good, boss. It’s freaking Christmas Day.”
I smiled at Rowan’s voice.
“There’s an issue at Guardian Hall,” I said.
Silence. Then a shift in her tone, all business. She knew the outlines of Guardian Hall from our gin-soaked catch-ups, the broad strokes at least. My best friend, my security advisor—who wouldn’t be happy I’d taken a random cab across the city—was exactly who I needed right now.
“I’m putting you on speaker,” I told her. “Um… also here with me is Alex.” I nodded at Alex and stood to leave the room. “Rowan, meet Alex. Rowan is my security advisor and my best friend, a former Navy intelligence officer. You can trust her.”
He blinked at me, confused.
“Alex?” Rowan said, her voice crisp over the line.
“Hi, Rowan,” Alex confirmed.
“How can I help?”
I left the room, headed into the kitchen, and curled up on the small sofa at the back with two more cookies and a slice of cake—sue me, I’d run it off tomorrow.
Or the day after.
There was a reason my belly was a little on the soft side.
A slight commotion at the door caught my eye.
Lucas was there—one of the team—and stumbling beside him was a man clutching a baby to his chest. I shrank back into the shadows, half-hidden behind the doorway.
Even though Lucas caught my eye and gave a quick nod, the man didn’t seem to notice me at all.
He looked dazed, pale, as if he’d been running on fumes and panic.
“This way,” Lucas said gently, guiding him toward the counter where the bottles and sterilizer sat.
The man stared at them, his expression lost. “I don’t know how…
Not properly… I don’t want to hurt her…” His voice trailed off, rough and broken, but the way he cradled the baby—protective, careful—hit me right in the heart.
He was shaking, exhausted, but holding on like that child was the only thing keeping him upright.
Lucas hovered close, never more than a few inches away, probably in case the guy collapsed—or maybe because of the whole dead-mother story Alex had mentioned.
I knew the protocols here, the ones about a team member staying close to any new arrival who might be a danger to themselves or others.
The man didn’t look dangerous. He looked wrecked.
Dark hair, a few days of stubble, long face.
I couldn’t see the color of his eyes, but I knew I’d remember the hollow way he stared at nothing.
It was Lucas who prepped the bottle, showing the man how to test the warmth on his wrist before handing it over.
Then, with a quiet word of reassurance, he guided him out of the kitchen toward the emergency arrival room.
I waited until Lucas led him down the hall, and we exchanged a silent nod before they disappeared from view.
Then I tried to flick through a book on wild horses from the small library, but the words blurred and became unreadable.
All I could see was the man and the baby, and I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d just seen something that was about to matter.
Alex tracked me into the kitchen—clearly his call with Rowan was over—and I could see the relief in his expression.
“Rowan’s awesome. I owe you one,” he said.
“No, you don’t. You never do.”
He gave me a grateful smile, and the dopamine hit I got from doing something positive was more than pleasant.
At least I could do something useful with my money, make it count for once. There were worse ways to spend millions than keeping Guardian Hall running and its doors open.
And hell, anything was better than running for president.