Page 35 of Loco

Roque

The call came just after I’d gotten to work.

At first, I didn’t understand what the officer was saying—his voice was too calm, too measured, the way people talk when they're trying not to fall apart themselves. I’d used it myself on quite a few occasions, so I was instantly on guard. But then the words hit, one after the other, like a brick to the chest.

Kemble and his wife, Aislinn, had been found dead.

Dead.

My best friend since we were kids. The guy I’d snuck out of class with, who’d stood beside me during every high and low, every stupid mistake and every hard-won victory gone. Just like that. And Aislinn, sweet, quiet Aislinn, who made him better just by existing. Who’d called me “Uncle Roque” from the second she’d found out she was pregnant.

But now those loving parents and people were taken from the world, leaving behind a huge gap that most people would never know existed.

I was already halfway out the door before the officer had finished the call. The roads weren’t great, but I didn’t give a shit. I drove like a man possessed, my hands white-knuckled on the wheel, the silence in the car heavy with everything I couldn’t say out loud.

The only small, bitter mercy in the whole nightmare was that the kids—Kairo, who was almost three, and little Kaida, who was eighteen months old—hadlived. They’d spent the entirety of both pregnancies thinking of unique names that had strong meanings, and that’s what Aislinn had decided on for both kids, much to our amusement. Kairo meant smooth, worldly, and stylish, and that little guy totally lived up to his name with his quiet yet brilliant self. And little Kaida, she was given that name because it meant little dragon, and she’d proven that was the case from the second she was born. They were total opposites in personality but made up the world together.

They were in the hospital, still recovering. Carbon monoxide poisoning, the doctor had said. Kemble’s generator had gone out—just like I’d suspected it might—and he'd lit a fire in a desperate attempt to keep the family warm. But what he’d used to burn had released poisonous gas into the air. The only thing that saved the kids was the cold—they’d burrowed under so many blankets and duvets that it had created a barrier, keeping the worst of it away.

It didn’t feel like a miracle. It felt like a cruel, narrow escape.

When I got to the hospital, I went straight to their room. Both of them looked so small in those beds. Monitors beeped softly, and there were oxygen tubes taped beneath their noses, their faces pale and far too still. Kaida’s little hand was curled into a loose fist on the blanket. Kairo’s brows twitched now and then, like he was halfway between dreaming and waking.

I sat between their beds and didn’t move. I didn’t cry, I was too hollow to do that. I just stared at them, waiting and wishing for something to feel real again.

And then a woman from Child Protective Services came in, clipboard in hand, her voice gentle but firm. She introduced herself, explained who she was, and said the police had found some documentation at Kemble and Aislinn’s house. Legal paperwork that’d been notarized and was framed and hanging on the wall like a photo, as if they’d always known there was a chance this could happen. As if they’d planned for the unthinkable.

They’d namedmeas the kids’ guardian.

My ears rang as she spoke, and I could barely hear her over the roaring in my head.

“Are you aware of the document?” she asked.

“I’ve seen it,” I said, my voice rasping. “But I didn’t think…” I trailed off because what the hell else was there to say? I didn’t think I’dever needto step in because I didn’t think Kemble would ever begone.

But it made sense. His dad’s health had been declining for years—he had COPD and could barely make it through a phone call without wheezing. His mom had passed two years ago. His older brother was an addict who was in and out of jail and barely able to take care of himself, let alone two grieving kids. So it fell to me.

I looked at Kairo and Kaida—my godkids, my chosen family—and knew what I had to do.

But, God, I had no ideahowI was going to do it.

There was my job—the late hours, the danger, the absolute chaos I waded through every day. The corruption investigation was heating up fast, and I was knee-deep in it. How the hell could I protect two innocent kids while also trying to tear down a system filled with people who’d rather see me buried than exposed?

My house was barely set up forme, let alone two children. Bedrooms needed clearing, locks needed changing, and routines needed rewriting. And Sayla, I hadn’t even told her yet. She’d been so good to me, the dogs, and this strange little life we were building together. But this was alot.

As much as I cared about her and wanted her by my side, she couldn’t be the priority right now. These kids had losteverything. What they needed now wasn’t romance, comfort, or stability—it was safety, consistency, and a home.

I didn’t know if I could give them all of that. But I was going to try. Ihadto try.

Because Kemble had trusted me with the most important thing he had. Because Kaida and Kairo had no one else. Because there wasn’t a single version of me that could look in the mirror if I turned away from this.

So I sat between their beds, hands clenched, and silently promised them—and him—that I wouldn’t let them fall.

No matter what it cost me.

Chapter 12

Sayla

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