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“You’re her uncle, and until we find your sister, it’d be best if you took care of your niece. But if you can’t provide her with a safe place to stay, let us know, and we’ll start finding her an emergency placement through CPS.”

Well, fuck. Even though I wouldn’t hesitate to look after my niece, having custody is a whole other ballgame. I can’t raise a baby right now. Maybe in a few years, but I’m nowhere near being ready for this kind of responsibility. After my shitty childhood, I want to be able to give a kid everything. I don’t even know how to change a damn diaper!

But beneath all the panic and uncertainty, one thing is painfully clear; there’s no other option. There never was. I already failed my little sister when life pulled us apart and everything went to shit afterward. I won’t fail her daughter too. Maybe this is my chance to make up for the past mistakes while finally doing what I promised myself long ago: taking care of my family no matter what.

“No—” I cough to clear my dry throat. “That’s unnecessary. She can live with me.”

I can’t believe this is happening. Breathe in, breathe out. There’s no time to panic or overthink right now. You’ve got this. If not today, you will later.

The male officer, who has been looking around the shop, comes to stand next to me. “Here’s the car seat your sister left with the kid.”

Grabbing it with my free hand, I let out a nervous breath. “What if I don’t know what to do?”

“Nobody does at first, but everyone learns as they go,” Officer Reinhart offers, her words oddly comforting.

I look down at sleeping Tilly. Her tiny fingers curl against the fabric of my shirt, like she’s already holding on. “Alright,” I mutter, more to myself than anyone else.

“We’ll take your niece to the hospital now,” Reinhart says.

I shift my weight, glancing toward the shop doors, my truck parked right outside in its spot. “Can I ride with you?” I ask, my voice rough. “I don’t think I should get behind the wheel right now.”

“Of course. That’s probably for the best.”

O’Ryan steps ahead of us and reaches for the door. “We’ll make room for you.”

We start moving past the guys and Heather, who gives me an assessing look. I don’t trust myself to say anything, so I just dip my chin in a half-nod and keep going.

“Tilly, um, she doesn’t cry much,” I say, needing to fill the silence once we’re outside. “Or at least she didn’t the last time I saw her.”

Reinhart offers a small, understanding smile. “She’s three months old, right?”

“Next week.”

“That's a good age,” she replies gently. I nod like I understand what that means, even though I don’t. Not really. Nothing makes sense right now. She could tell me anything and I would agree.

O’Ryan opens the car door for us. “Let’s get you both in. Hand me the seat first.”

Carefully readjusting Tilly against my chest, I pass him the car seat with shaky hands. He takes it easily and moves with confidence, securing the seat in place with quick, efficient movements like he’s done this a thousand times before.

“Alright, you can pass her over,” he says.

I hesitate, looking down at Tilly again. She’s quiet, her eyes half-lidded, completely unaware that her entire world got flipped upside down. Lucky her. But I still do as instructed and let the officer help me. I hand over Tilly and he puts her into the seat before fastening the straps.

“There we go,” he says, giving a final check. “She’s all set.”

I step back, my arms feeling empty without Tilly’s weight in them. O’Ryan gestures to the other side of the car. “Come on, you can sit next to her.”

Circling around, my steps are slightly off. The door opens before I reach it and Reinhart waits. “You doing okay?” she asks as I climb in.

Okay how? My body? My head? My life? There isn’t a clear answer to describe how I feel.

“Yeah. I mean…no. But yeah,” I finally manage to reply.

She hums like that makes perfect sense and closes the door, dulling the outside noises. I reach for Tilly on instinct and brush my thumb over her hand. She curls her fingers around mine, and the little touch reminds me I’m all she has at this moment. Sure, there are the officers, doctors and others who will help us. But none of them are me, none of them is family.

“I’ve got you,” I tell her. “I won’t ever leave you, my sweet girl. That’s one thing I can promise even if I’m scared shitless.”

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