Two new members in the FBI (Rewritten)

Chapter 55

Previously on Two new members in the FBI

I glance at the monitor one more time, watching the small rise and fall of Boston's chest.

Everything that matters is still here.

Still steady.

And as the house settles fully into night again, I don't try to push the rest of it away.

I just let it sit where it is-

Outside of this space, for now.

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October 31, 2024

Jackson's Pov

The house is wrapped in the kind of silence that only exists before dawn.

Outside, Beacon Hills is still asleep. The streetlights cast pale pools of light across the empty road, and the faint outline of autumn trees stands motionless against a sky that hasn't yet decided whether it belongs to night or morning. Halloween has technically arrived, but it doesn't feel like a holiday yet. At 4:45 in the morning, it feels like any other quiet October day waiting to begin.

Boston, however, has apparently decided that sleeping is no longer part of his plans.

I shift him higher against my shoulder as I step into the kitchen, suppressing a yawn that threatens to split my face in two. His eyes are wide open, bright and alert despite the hour, darting around the room with genuine interest. He doesn't look tired in the slightest. If anything, he looks as though he's convinced we've started the day at exactly the right time.

"I don't know where you're getting all this energy," I murmur, glancing down at him.

His answer comes in the form of a happy little coo followed by an enthusiastic kick that bumps lightly against my side.

"That's about what I expected."

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth despite myself.

It would be easier to be frustrated if he were crying or fussy, but he isn't. He's simply... awake. Completely, unapologetically awake.

About thirty minutes ago he'd started making little sounds through the monitor, steadily growing louder until it became obvious he wasn't going to drift back to sleep on his own. I'd changed his diaper, nursed him until he'd eaten his fill, burped him, and held him quietly afterward, expecting the usual outcome.

Instead, he'd stared up at me with clear blue eyes that seemed almost offended by the suggestion of going back to bed.

Now here we are.

I settle onto one of the kitchen stools, adjusting Boston so he's sitting upright against my chest. He immediately cranes his neck, studying the room as though it's somehow different from the hundreds of times he's already seen it.

"You know," I tell him softly, "most babies would still be asleep."

He rewards that observation with another happy noise.

"So that's a no?"

Another coo.

"I figured."

The monitor sits abandoned on the counter now that he's with me, its screen dark. Noah is still asleep upstairs, having worked another long shift the day before. I'm not about to wake him when Boston isn't upset. There isn't any reason to disturb anyone else just because my son has apparently declared sunrise optional.