Two new members in the FBI (Rewritten)

Chapter 54

Previously on Two new members in the FBI

And just like that—

They're gone.

But the difference now is that it doesn't feel like distance.

It feels like something has started.

And whether I want it to or not—

They know exactly where to find me.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For a few seconds after the door shuts, I stay exactly where I am.

Not because I don't know what to do next, but because everything that just happened is still settling into place. The quiet that follows isn't the same as before—it isn't the steady, grounded silence from earlier in the morning. There's a different weight to it now, something that lingers in the air even after they're gone.

Not tension exactly.

But awareness.

I let out a slow breath, my gaze fixed on the door a second longer before I force myself to turn away from it. Standing here isn't doing anything. Whatever this is—whatever they think they've started—it's not getting handled in the doorway.

Upstairs, Boston shifts again.

The sound is faint, but it cuts through everything else immediately.

That's what matters.

I take the stairs two at a time, not rushing in a way that would be frantic, but moving with purpose. By the time I reach the top, I can hear him more clearly now—not crying, not upset, just awake. Small sounds, the kind that mean he's coming out of sleep and deciding what to do next.

I push the door open gently and step inside.

He's already looking toward the sound.

That's the first thing I notice.

His eyes track me as I move, alert in a way that tells me he's been awake for at least a minute or two, long enough to orient himself but not long enough to get frustrated.

"Hey," I murmur, my voice softening automatically.

His expression shifts almost immediately—not quite a full smile, but something close to it, something that lands somewhere between recognition and expectation.

"Yeah," I say, stepping closer. "I'm here."

I reach down and lift him carefully, supporting his head as I bring him against my chest. He settles quickly, his body adjusting into that familiar position like it's second nature now.

"You wake up at a great time," I add under my breath.

He makes a small sound, something that might be a response or might just be coincidence.

Either way, it grounds me.

The tension from downstairs doesn't disappear completely, but it shifts—moves further back, less immediate. Boston doesn't know anything about what just happened. He doesn't carry any of it. His world is still exactly what it was before I went downstairs.

That matters.

I adjust him slightly and head back toward the stairs, my movements slower now, more deliberate. There's no rush anymore. Whatever needed immediate handling already happened.

When I reach the kitchen again, Noah is still there, leaning against the counter with a fresh cup of coffee in his hand. He looks up as I walk in, his gaze immediately dropping to Boston.