Page 25 of Anchor Point

“I was trying to give the man a moment to absorb everything.” Nate scowled in Thoren’s direction, immediately winning brownie points for standing up for me. “But now that you’ve brought it up.” Nate turned to me. “What gives, Capt?”

“You bunch of gossiping hens,” Mo piped in from the recliners. “Learn to read the room. Capt doesn’t wanna talk about this, evidenced by his even pissier than normal demeanor.”

“Well, we weren’t the ones seen following a pretty young girl on a bike through town yesterday,” Thoren shot back. “Word to the wise. You really gotta watch out for those old ladies, Capt. They got a whole calling-tree chain and everything. Kylie said it’s scary the amount of dirt they have on people.”

I didn’t even need to be in the room. They could have this discussion without me. I didn’t want to think about anything, and I certainly didn’t want to talk about my life issues, especially with them.

I was supposed to be their mentor, not the other way around. I was the “old man” of the crew—one of the reasons I was so keyed up to make it to retirement. Working around men young enough to be my kids and not being able to keep up… my time in service was running short. This career was hard on an old guy. And I certainly did not want to think or talk about the two new additions in my life.

“The kid came to my house.” Dammit. The words vomited forth like I had no control over them.

Thoren spun to me, his eyes growing wide as he tapped the water off and set his bowl aside. “Whoa, Captain. Maybe let’s go have a sit-down.”

Nate came around the island. “You’re looking kind of pale, boss.” He ushered me to the table, his grip on my arm the only thing that kept me steady until I could sink into a chair.

Mo braced on the table, leaning over me like a father scolding a child. “Talk.”

Oh, how the tides had changed.

I was the one who was supposed to issue orders.

How many times had we had debriefs in this same space? This was just another debrief. I let that thought wash over me and laid out what I knew. An odd sort of relief coming with every word.

“I still don’t have all the facts,” I admitted. “Don’t know why they’re here, if there’s a reason. But the girl came by my house. Her excuse was that she knew someone from Landreau’s family and wanted to thank me for that charity fundraiser we held when he was so sick with cancer.”

These men had been there during the organizing and execution of that event. But I’d been the lead face for the department and had been tasked with all of the PR work. “She showed up at my house, riding a dang bicycle, of all things, and man, it was like looking into a mirror and seeing a young female version of myself.”

“How do you feel about that?” Mo asked.

I swallowed. Hard. “I don’t know. I’m conflicted.”

“Man, I bet. That’s kind of huge to find out you have a kid.”

Especially when I’d resigned myself to being alone. Had given up on ever finding the right person to start a family with. Had given up on having a family of my own, even though it had been something I’d wanted from the time I left the military. Diedre hadn’t been ready, and then she left me. And all those dreams of a family got buried. But I couldn’t tell these men, these friends, about that. It was too close. Too personal. I could only nod at Mo.

“So… the daughter found you,” Thoren prompted. At my nod, he continued, “Now you’ve got to have a chat with the chief.”

“I know, I just don’t know where to start. I’m mad. Confused. I have a million questions.”

“Do you want to know this girl if she’s yours? ’Cause it sounds like she wants to know you.”

Did I?

I let the thought roll around in my head even as I lifted a shoulder. “Maybe?” Everything was happening so fucking fast. I needed time to process. To think.

“Fair enough. Just a word to the wise. Make sure you have this conversation sooner than later, because it sounds like the kid is invested enough to seek you out. You don’t want to hurt her,” Mo advised.

“Or,” Thoren offered, “you could see what the kid knows and then approach the mom.”

Nate frowned. “Or he could be a grown-up and do the right thing and face the challenge head-on. But whatever you do, you better do it soon. Before the old lady squad one-ups you.”

And from there, they went round and round, each offering their own idea, each solution adding to the weight pressing on my shoulders. The kid didn’t deserve my attitude—that should be directed only at Olivia. And it was time for answers. Just as soon as I found the courage to ask the questions. Because the answers could change my life, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to face what they held.

The next afternoon, the crunch of gravel and Buster’s happy yipping, followed by a high-pitched giggle, alerted me to company. I walked out of my shop, wiping my hands on a grease rag, to find Rosie wrestling with my lab, her bike and backpack discarded in the yard.

“Hey, Mac,” she yelled, earning her a face full of doggy licks. She grabbed Buster in a headlock and kissed him back, sending a wild burst of energy through the goofball, which erupted in a case of the zoomies.

Rosie scrambled to her feet and bounced over to me. “Hey! Whatcha doin’?”

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