“Jax! Down here for a second!”
He came down in sweats and socks, hair a fluffy pink mess, a bit of toothpaste on his chin.
He saw the officer and froze.
“I didn’t do anything,” he blurted.
Daniels’ mouth twitched.
The room went quiet.
“I know,” he said. “You did something good.”
Jax squinted. “Okay…” he said.
Daniels took a breath.
“What you did last night,” he said, looking Jax in the eye, “you saved my baby.”
The room went quiet.
“Why was he even out there?”
“Your baby?” I said.
He nodded.
“That newborn the EMTs took. He’s my son.”
Jax’s eyes went huge.
“Wait,” he said. “Why was he even out there?”
“Complications after the birth. It’s just me and him now.”
Daniels swallowed.
“My wife died three weeks ago,” he said softly. “Complications after the birth. It’s just me and him now.”
My grip tightened on the doorframe.
“I had to go back on shift,” he said. “I left him with my neighbor. She’s solid. But her teenage daughter was watching him while the mom ran to the store.”
“He started crying. She panicked.”
His face tightened.
“She took him out to ‘show a friend,'” he said. “It was colder than she thought. He started crying. She panicked. Left him on that bench and ran home to get her mom.”
“She left him?” I whispered. “Out there?”
“She’s 14,” he said. “It was a terrible, stupid choice. My neighbor realized right away, but when they got back outside, he was gone.”
“Another 10 minutes in that cold and it might’ve ended very differently.”
He looked at Jax again.
“You had him,” he said. “You’d already wrapped him in your jacket. The doctors said another 10 minutes in that cold and it might’ve ended very differently.”
I had to grab the back of a chair.
Jax shifted.
“I just… couldn’t walk away,” he said.
“A lot of people would’ve ignored the sound.”
Daniels nodded.
“That’s the part that matters,” he said. “A lot of people would’ve ignored the sound. Thought it was a cat. You didn’t.”
He bent and picked up a baby carrier from the porch. I hadn’t even noticed it.
Inside, bundled in a real blanket, was the baby.
Warm now. Pink cheeks. Tiny hat with bear ears.
“I don’t want to break him.”
“This is Theo,” Daniels said. “My son.”
He looked at Jax.
“Want to hold him?”
Jax went pale.
“I don’t want to break him,” he said.
“We’ll make sure no one gets dropped.”
“You won’t,” Daniels said. “He already knows you.”
Jax glanced at me.
“Sit,” I said. “We’ll make sure no one gets dropped.”
He sat on the couch. Daniels gently placed Theo in his arms.
Jax held him like glass, big hands careful.
“It’s like he remembers.”
“Hey, little man,” he whispered. “Round two, huh?”
Theo blinked up at him and reached out. His tiny hand grabbed a fistful of Jax’s black hoodie.
He held on.
I heard Daniels inhale.
“He does that every time he sees you,” he said. “It’s like he remembers.”
“Maybe a small assembly. Local paper.”
My eyes stung.
Daniels pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to Jax.
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