Chapter Text
POV Joe Goldberg
Henry is quiet.
That’s unusual, considering what I just did. Most babies can sense tension smell it, maybe. Fear, adrenaline, the tang of fresh death. But Henry looks up at me from the carrier slung across my chest with those wide, unbothered eyes that remind me, painfully, of Love.
Not her temper. Not her lies. But her innocence, the part of her that existed before the Quinn family rot curled around her soul and squeezed.
Love Quinn is dead.
And I’m the one who ended her.
Self defense? A preemptive strike? A mercy?
People love to judge without understanding the complexity of relationships, real relationships, the ones built on need and sacrifice. She would have killed me. She would have killed Henry. She was becoming unpredictable. Dangerous. You don’t let someone like that stay in your life. You act. You protect. That’s what good fathers do.
I repeat that to myself as I walk across the cracked pavement towards a Los Angeles grocery store, Henry’s small weight warming my chest. Early morning sun casts everything in gold, giving the cement a halo it doesn’t deserve. I’m supposed to be heading straight for the airport. Start a new life somewhere far away. New name. Fresh start. Anywhere but here.
But Henry needs things. Formula. Snacks. Wipes. A plane is no place for a starving baby.
So here I am, at a painfully average grocery store wedged between a dry cleaners and a vape shop. A place where no one knows me. No one suspects me. A place where I can disappear for ten minutes, then walk out into anonymity.
Or at least, that was the plan.
The bell above the automatic door gives a weak chime as I enter. A hopeful sound. One that suggests new beginnings. I breathe in the dry chill of overworked air conditioning and the faint scent of citrus cleaner and bakery sugar. It’s peaceful. Too peaceful for someone like me.
I grab a basket and start down the first aisle.
“Almost done, Henry,” I whisper into Henry’s soft hair. He gurgles in response, blissfully unaware that he has no mother anymore and no future unless I create one for him.
Unless I become better.
And I can. I will.
I move through the aisles with practiced efficiency. Diapers. Formula. Applesauce pouches. A few small toys to keep Henry quiet on the plane. Items of care. Items of love. I’m doing the right thing.
I’m making a new life for my son.
I’m halfway down aisle seven when it happens.
A flash of movement at the end of the aisle. Quick, carefree. A laugh that sounds like sunlight, and feels warm, bright, full. Then I hear a voice, deep and smooth, tinged with something that feels like… joy. Pure joy.
Then I see you.
He turns the corner into the cereal aisle, and the world stills.
Broad shoulders stretching a navy blue LAFD T shirt. Muscular arms. Brown or dark blonde hair glinting under store lights like it’s trying to be a halo. And then, those eyes. Blue. Not just blue, an impossible blue. A kind of blue that makes you believe in better possibilities. A blue that reaches into your chest, grabs your heart, and squeezes.
And the smile. God. A smile that feels like someone opening a door you didn’t know was locked.
He laughs again something goofy, unrestrained as he talks to someone out of view. A voice replies, teasing him, and he shoves playfully at the air.
A stranger should not be allowed to brighten a place so boring.
I freeze behind a display of Cheerios, my breath caught in my throat.
Hello...you.
Whoever he is.
He moves with the ease of someone who’s loved by the world. You can’t fake that. People like him don’t try to be seen they simply are. And everyone gravitates toward them.
Including me.
I can feel it happening the slide. The shift. A tightening in my chest that tells me fate is whispering in my ear again.
There you are, fate says.
I’ve brought you someone.
Someone who could be everything.
Someone who could change everything.
Someone who could save me from the version of myself I keep trying to bury behind good intentions and bad outcomes.
My feet move before I command them to, following him at a careful distance. Not too close. Not too far. Just enough to observe.
Just enough to… appreciate.
He reaches up to grab something from a high shelf, protein powder and the shirt rides up, revealing a sliver of skin.
I swallow hard.
Down, intrusive thoughts. I’m not a caveman.
But I’m also not blind.
I shift Henry gently when he starts to wiggle. “It’s okay,” I murmur. “We just need a minute.”
Henry looks at the man too, mesmerized. Of course he is. Babies sense goodness. Or they sense energy. And this man radiates both.
He turns his head slightly as though catching a sound, and that smile God, the smile lights up again as he waves someone over.
And that’s when it happens.
Four people approach him from behind.
Uniforms. Navy. Matching. LAFD logos.
First responders.
A type of family.
They greet him with familiarity, teasing, affection. A man with dark hair bumps his shoulder. A woman laughs into her sleeve. Another Asian guy nudges him with a cart.
And one of them an older man with calm, steady eyes, says the name. “Buck.”
Buck.
I whisper it in my mind.
Buck.
It lit a spark within me.
Buck.
I know now.
I know his name. I know the warmth of his smile. I know the way his presence makes the lights in the grocery store feel like a cathedral. I know that the universe has done something incredible, something for me.
It gave me you.
And I know, with horrifying clarity, that I can’t leave L.A. anymore.
Not when you are here.
Not when fate has placed him in my path.
Not when everything inside me, every dark, hungry, yearning part whispers
He is the one.
Maybe, that is why my past loves have gone wrong?
Maybe I need a him, not a she.
I need you.
Buck laughs again, bending slightly as one of his crew hands him a box of cereal he apparently wanted but couldn’t find.
The entire group teases him for it. He flushes pink.
I grip the handle of the basket until my knuckles ache.
Perfect.
He is perfect.
You are perfect.
And somewhere in my mind, a door opens.
Not a door I planned to walk through.
A door I can’t resist.
A door that leads directly to him.
To you.