Two new members in the FBI (Rewritten)

Chapter 59

Previously on Two new members in the FBI

Jackson's Pov

Watching it all unfold, I feel something settle quietly inside me.

Boston won't remember his first Halloween.

He won't remember the lights, the laughter, the little gray wolf costume, or the community waiting for us at the high school.

But someday, when he's older, Stiles and I will show him the photographs from tonight and tell him about the evening his world quietly became just a little bit bigger-the Halloween when he met even more of the people who would spend the rest of his life loving him as one of their own.

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Jackson's Pov

The cool evening air greets us the moment I step off the front porch, carrying with it the unmistakable feeling of Halloween in Beacon Hills. The temperature has dropped enough that I instinctively pull my jacket a little closer around myself, though the infant carrier hanging comfortably from my hand remains well protected. Boston is bundled beneath a soft fleece blanket, the tiny gray wolf ears on his hood just visible above the edge of the fabric, and every few seconds he lets out another curious little sound as he watches the world passing by from his new vantage point.

The neighborhood is alive in a way it hadn't been only an hour earlier.

Children weave between houses carrying brightly colored candy buckets that bounce against their legs with every excited step. Parents stroll along the sidewalks in jackets and sweaters, calling reminders to stay together while trying not to laugh as superheroes, dinosaurs, princesses, and tiny ghosts dart from one front porch to the next with seemingly endless energy. Nearly every house glows beneath strands of orange lights or carved jack-o'-lanterns flickering from front steps, and somewhere farther down the block, a fog machine sends wisps of artificial mist drifting across a front yard transformed into an elaborate haunted cemetery.

Boston's wide blue eyes seem determined to take in every bit of it.

His gaze shifts constantly beneath the carrier canopy, following the movement of people crossing the street, porch lights illuminating costumes, and leaves tumbling through the crisp evening breeze. I know he can't truly understand what he's seeing, but I can almost watch his brain trying to organize the flood of unfamiliar sights and sounds arriving all at once.

"It's a lot, isn't it?" I murmur as I make my way down the driveway.

He responds with a quiet coo before turning his attention toward a group of children laughing loudly as they pass Noah's front yard.

"I thought so."

The Sheriff's SUV is gone.

Noah had left only a few minutes before us after receiving a radio call from one of his deputies. Even on Halloween, especially on Halloween, there were responsibilities that couldn't wait. Before pulling away, he'd promised he'd stop by the high school once things settled down, though neither of us knew exactly when that might be. Coordinating deputies across the county while keeping an eye on hundreds of excited children was exactly the sort of evening that demanded every available officer.

As much as Boston had already begun thinking of Noah as another safe set of arms, tonight the town needed its sheriff.

I unlock the Jeep with a press of the key fob, and the headlights flash briefly in response.

"Alright, buddy."

I set the infant carrier carefully onto the back seat before opening the base that had remained installed since our drive from Virginia. Even after weeks of using it, I still double-check everything automatically. The carrier settles into place with a firm click, and I give it the practiced tug that every parent eventually develops, confirming it's locked securely before fastening the final safety strap.