Two new members in the FBI (Rewritten)

Chapter 49

Previously on Two new members in the FBI

Jackson's Pov

The Sheriff nodded. "Alright. But if you want to take a break later — even just a nap — I'm around. Don't have a shift until tonight."

I gave him a grateful look. "I might take you up on that."

"You should."

As I turned to head back up the stairs, I paused at the door. Just for a second.

"Hey," I said, looking back over my shoulder. "It's good to be back."

His smile was quiet. Real. "It's good to have you."

And I carried that with me as I climbed the stairs — back to my son, back to Stiles — back to something I hadn't let myself hope for in a long time.

Something like peace.

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The stairs creaked under my weight the same way they always had.

I'd spent enough nights in this house as a teenager—late study sessions, arguments, pack meetings that lasted until sunrise—to know exactly which step complained the loudest. I avoided it automatically, shifting my weight as I climbed, coffee still warming my bloodstream.

The hallway upstairs was dim, early morning light just beginning to filter through the small window at the end. Stiles's bedroom door was half open. The guest room across the hall—the one we'd put Boston in for the night—was cracked just enough for me to hear it.

That soft, restless rustling.

Not crying yet. Just movement.

I pushed the guest room door open slowly.

Boston was awake.

He wasn't upset. Just staring up at the ceiling like it had personally offended him for existing. His legs kicked against the swaddle, slow but determined, and one tiny fist had escaped and was waving in the air like he was trying to conduct an orchestra.

I smiled before I could stop myself.

"Morning, little man," I whispered as I stepped closer to the bassinet.

His eyes shifted toward the sound of my voice almost immediately.

That still gets me every time.

Six weeks ago, he was barely opening them. Now? Now he tracks me. Follows sound. Locks in. His gaze sharpened the second he found me, and for a moment he just... stared.

Like he was memorizing me too.

I crouched down beside the bassinet and rested my forearms along the edge. "You slept good," I murmured. "Well. After three a.m. chaos."

His mouth opened in a tiny O shape, and he made that quiet huffing sound he does when he's thinking about crying but hasn't committed yet.

"You're fine," I assured him gently. "You're okay."

He blinked.

Then he made a sound.

Not a cry.

Not a coo.

Something in between.

I slipped one hand under his back and the other beneath his head and lifted him slowly, bringing him against my chest. His body molded into mine instantly, like he'd been waiting for it.