Chapter Text
“Sammy…”
You knocked against the bathroom door and leaned your shoulder against the frame. “I know you're nervous… But it's the first day. You can't quit before you've even walked through the front doors.”
A muffled sob answered you.
You closed your eyes. The apartment was small enough that there was nowhere to hide a breakdown. Sam could try to cry quietly all he wanted, but the shaky breaths and hiccupping sobs always carried through the walls. He was a smart kid, way smarter than you'd ever been at five, but unlike you, he'd never learned how to glide over it. Every feeling landed on his face the second he felt it, and you had to help him regulate.
“No, it's—” He sucked in a shaky breath. “Sabie, I really don't wanna go!”
The panic in his voice made your chest ache.
Every day felt like a battle against his anxiety. You saw it in all the little things. The way he'd come home from camp drenched in sweat despite spending half the day indoors. The way his fingernails were always chewed raw after playdates. The way he could spend an entire week worrying about something that hadn't even happened yet.. And there wasn't much you could do about it. No therapy. No medication. No parent stepping in to help. Just you trying to stop his anxiety from crippling him.
“It feels like I'm gonna throw up,” he cried. “I really think I'm gonna throw up!”
You glanced toward the kitchen clock. You still had to get him to school. You still had to get yourself to work. There were dishes in the sink from last night, laundry that needed folding, bills sitting unopened on the counter. There was always something waiting for you, but right now the next thing on the to-do list was to calm him down and get him to school.
“Sam,” you said gently, “can you open the door for me?”
“No.”
“Sam.”
“No.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Buddy, come on. I can't help if you're hiding in a bathroom.”
“...Please?”
A loud sniffle came from the other side. A second later, the door creaked open and Sam peeked through the crack. His face was blotchy and red, tears streaking down both cheeks. His curls stuck out in every direction, and his nose was running grossly enough that you were already reaching for a tissue.
“There he is,” you murmured.
He opened the door the rest of the way and shuffled out. The overalls you'd laid out for him hung awkwardly off his little frame. Yesterday he'd insisted on wearing them because he'd thought they looked cool. Today they just made him look impossibly young.
You crouched down in front of him. “Did you brush your teeth like I told you to?”
He nodded and wiped his nose on his sleeve.
You sighed. “Gross.”
“Sorry.”
“Not yet. Save the apology until after you've used a tissue,” A tiny huff escaped him, almost a laugh, and the ends of your lips curled up, just a little. You gently cleaned his face while he stood there looking miserable. “What's got you scared about today?”
“Everything.”
“That's not an answer.”
His frown deepened… He stared at the floor for a few seconds before finally muttering, “It just feels wrong,” you understood the feeling all well. Being anxious for a job interview meant being anxious about driving there, finding somewhere to park, finding the right entrance, giving the right handshake… Nervousness for school is the same, getting worried about the generality of it leaves anxiety for every little thing.
“What feels wrong?”
“I don't know.”
Fresh tears welled in his eyes and your heart sank.
Because he wasn't being difficult. He genuinely didn't know. The fear was just there, sitting in his chest and making everything feel impossible. How were you supposed to argue with a feeling he couldn't even explain? You adjusted one of his overall straps and kept your voice soft.
“Okay. Then let's figure it out together. Are you worried the other kids won't like you?”
He nodded his head.
“Your teacher?”
Another nod.
“Getting lost?”
“Yeah…”
You huffed. “So, everything…?” You said, and he made a face considering that was what he tried to say at the beginning. “You know, i can’t even blame you. Do you have any idea how nervous i was my first day of training?” He shook his head, and so you continued.
“It’s funny because I wasn't scared about meeting the other coworkers or not knowing anything, I was worried I’d make a mistake and get fired the first day… Which is silly because obviously they needed workers if they’d already hired me, and they’d obviously assume a newbie would make mistakes,” I said, wiping the nasty eye boogers out of his eyes.
“Anxiety is weird that way… Unfortunately you’ll be anxious even if logically, you don’t really have too much to worry about, right? Because guess what? As soon as I got there, the manager set me up with someone to shadow just in case I made any mistakes, and I went home that day expecting a paycheck the following Friday, and excited for my next shift.”
You pulled your arms back and looked at him. “It’s okay to be scared, but don’t let it stop you from doing what you… Really need to do,” Sam sniffled, but considering his silence, he was listening. The only thing with kids was that no matter how well of a speech you give them, if they don’t want to do something, they won’t do it.”
“Tell you what,” you said. “You don't have to get through the whole day right now. Just get through the first hour. Then the next one. Then lunch. One piece at a time.”
His lower lip trembled.
“And if you really can't do it,” you continued, “and I mean really can't do it, then you tell your teacher to call me, i’ll come pick you up.”
His eyes widened. “Even if you're working?”
You ignored the immediate panic that thought caused. “Even if I'm working.”
You’d figure it out somehow… You had too, never really had a choice. Just because you were having a hard time didn’t mean that Sam had to too. What would make you really happy was for him to grow up to be a good man and take care of whatever kids he has, if he has any. If you had to raise him, you’d raise him to be nothing like your mutual father.
“Good.” You stood and held out your hand. “And let me tell you, if you want to be a soccer player, you’re gonna have to go to school. All stellar athletes are good students,” you added, just for one last nudge. “Now let's get your face cleaned up properly. The least you can do is give kindergarten a chance.”
“That's not fair.”
“Life's not fair.”
“You sound old.”
You snorted.
“That's because I'm basically raising you, ‘bro’.”
He giggled.
Biking Sam around was wildly inconvenient, but at least it left you with strong glutes for hauling boxes at work.
The worst of it was winter. Dragging him places through the freezing wind was brutal. Luckily for him, he was tucked in behind you and didn’t get the full force of it— but you were the one doing all the work. Half the time you were freezing solid, the other half sweating under a thick sweater, wondering how that was even possible.
You rolled up to the front gate and slowed to a stop. “I’ll walk you to your classroom, but then I’ve gotta go, alright?” you said, parking the bike in the rack.
Sam climbed off without a word, already wearing that familiar expression that said he wanted absolutely nothing to do with this situation. You helped him steady himself and locked the bike up.
“Okay…” he muttered.
Huge backpack. Lunchbox in hand. He looked painfully small in a way that made your chest tighten for a second. It reminded you of when he first came home with your dad… It was so long ago it barely felt real. Ten years old, and you’d had no idea what to do with a little sibling.
“Be excited, come on. First day of kindergarten! Yay!” you’d said back then, holding out your hand.
He took it immediately.
Now, walking him through the front entrance, teachers stood by greeting kids as parents streamed in behind you. One of the women gave Sam a warm wave. He stared back blankly. Not impressed.
“Room 122… Mrs. Smith. Easy to remember, hm?” you said.
He didn’t respond. Too tense to even pretend.
The hallway was chaotic with kids crying, others bolting down corridors, and parents trying not to panic. You gave a small shrug. “You’re not the only one nervous, Sammy. See?” You gestured around. “It’s new for everyone, not just you.”
“Yeah…” he mumbled, a little softer now, and by the time you reached the classroom door, he looked completely wrecked.
“Ready?”
“Wait, I—”
“It’s now or never,” you said, gently tugging him inside.
The room was bright without being overwhelming, colorful, organized, calm enough not to feel chaotic. Just how Sam liked things, even if he didn’t know it yet.
A few kids were already seated at desks with name tags. Parents were chatting with a teacher you assumed was Mrs. Smith. You made brief eye contact and gave her a polite smile before looking back down at Sam.
“What do you think?” you asked Sam.
“…Not terrible.”
“High praise,” you said lightly. “C’mon, let’s find your seat.”It didn’t take long. You helped him sit, took his backpack off, and set his lunchbox on the desk.
“Do you want me to stay a little? I’ll have to go when the parents leave though.”
He nodded.
“Alright. I’ll just go speak to the teacher real quick. I’ll be right back.”
You crossed the room and quietly spoke with Mrs. Smith, mentioning Sam’s anxiety and the situation at home, your dad being “away for work all of the time” and you handling things in his place. She was a little surprised considering you age, as most people were, but she took note.
When you turned back, Sam wasn’t alone anymore.
He was talking to another kid. A girl! And your shoulders eased without you even noticing.
“That’s them growing up, isn’t it…” a voice said beside you.
You glanced over.
A man stood there watching the kids with an easy smile, clearly the girl’s father.
You huffed a laugh. “Hah, yeah… I'm shocked she’s already got Sammy talking. I was worried he would be too nervous to talk to anybody.” The man beside you let out a short chuckle, arms loosely folded as he watched the kids. “Aye, that’s how it goes sometimes. The quiet yin surprises ye.”
You nodded, still half-focused on Sam. “Is that your daughter?”
“Aye,” he said, tone warming instantly. “That’s her. Been chattin’ aboot this day for weeks. Barely slept last night, then this mornin’ she nearly left her bag sittin’ at the door—ran back in like a wee rocket.”
You smiled. “Sounds exciting.”
“Aye, excited an’ absolutely no’ prepared at the same time,” he added with a grin. “Story of her life, that.”
There was a brief pause before he glanced at you properly this time, like he was actually taking to you rather than just making small talk.
“He’s no yer bairn, is he? Ye’re awfy young tae be runnin’ him aboot’ like that.”
You blinked, then shook your head quickly. “No, no— I’m his sister. Our dad’s away, so I’ve kind of stepped in.”
That got a different reaction from him. The casual humour softened, replaced by something more thoughtful.
“Ah… right. Fair play tae ye, then.”
You gave a small shrug like it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s fine. Just… how it is right now.” Except it wasn’t just now, it was almost always. The deadbeat never stepped foot into the apartment unless he got into an argument with his current mistress. You tried to tell yourself you and Sammy were better off without him, but it pissed you off that Sam had to grow up without a real dad.
“Aye, well,” he said after a beat, nodding once. “Still no easy, that. Yer doin’ more than most would.”
You weren’t sure what to say to that, so you just huffed a quiet laugh. “Thanks.”
He tilted his head slightly, eyes flicking back toward Sam and the girl, who were still talking like they’d known each other forever. “What a good lass ye are, helpin’ oot like that,” he added, tone lighter again, but sincere.
You waved it off a bit. “I try. There’s not really any kids his age nearby, so I just… make do, I guess. Bike him places, keep him alive, that sort of thing,” …But you’d be lying if the slight praise didn’t make you feel a little nice.
That earned a proper laugh out of him, short, sharp, amused.
“Aye, sounds like parentin’ wi’ extra steps.”
“Basically.”
He shifted his weight, glancing down the hallway as more parents started to thin out near the classroom doors. “Two o’ mine are a nightmare together, an’ the other one acts like I’ve personally offended her by offerin’ breakfast, so I ken the chaos.”
You snorted. “That bad, huh?”
“That bad,” he confirmed easily. “But they keep ye busy. Keeps ye goin’.”
There was a brief pause again before he spoke, a bit more casually this time.
“So what’s yer name, then? Since I’m no’ just callin’ ye ‘Sammy’s sister’ for the rest of time.”
You smiled slightly. “Everyone calls me Sable.”
“Sable,” he repeated, like he was testing it once. “Aye. Suits ye.”
“And you are…?”
He gave a small grin, almost a bit self-aware. “Johnny.”
Usually adults would give you their last name for you to call them politely, so it threw you off with a first name.
“Right. Mr… Johnny,” you said awkwardly, earning an amused huff from ‘Johnny’ who didn’t comment on it. He glanced back toward the door again, then shifted like he was already halfway out the conversation.
“Well, Sable, I’ve got tae get movin’. But it’s good tae see the wee yin’s already made a pal.”
“Yeah,” you said, looking back at Sam. “That’s… new.”
Johnny let out a soft laugh. “Aye, enjoy it while it lasts. First day’s the easy yin.”
He lifted a hand in a casual wave. “Take care o’ yersel, aye? And don’t be lettin’ that wee man run ye ragged.”
You gave a small nod. “I’ll try.”
“Good lass,” he said, turning to go. “Catch ye.”
And just like that, he was gone into the flow of parents and hallway noise and Sam looked well enough for you to head out yourself.
You'd started working at the pastry shop when you were fourteen. It was one of the few places in town willing to hire teenagers, and over the years you'd watched plenty of girls your age come and go. Most of them worked after-school shifts from three to six, but your schedule was a little different.
Online classes had their perks.
While everyone else was stuck in classrooms, you could work weekdays during the day. It meant more hours and more money, which was exactly what you needed.
The work itself was easy enough. The management, however, was a nightmare.
Or rather, it had been a nightmare.
For years there'd barely been any management at all. The owners would disappear for days at a time, only calling the shop to complain whenever something wasn't done exactly how they liked it. Apparently they finally got tired of the teenagers messing things up after school, because a few months ago they'd hired Adriana.
She was older than most of the staff and had been brought in specifically to supervise.
Unfortunately, that meant she supervised you too.
Never mind the fact that you'd worked there longer than she had. Never mind that you knew the bakery's routines better than anyone besides the owners themselves. Adriana was management now, and management outranked experience.
At least the owners had mostly stopped calling.
The downside was that Adriana had taken over part of your schedule.
You used to work eight in the morning until six in the evening. Now you got cut off at three.
Three hours didn't sound like much until you multiplied it by every weekday.
The missing income had forced you to pick up shifts at a snack shack over the summer just to make up the difference. Now school was starting again—or at least your version of school—and you still had to work around Sam's schedule.
Getting him to and from kindergarten wasn't exactly optional.
For the last two hours you'd been standing behind the counter folding cardboard pastry boxes.
It wasn't difficult work. Just mind-numbing.
The stack never seemed to shrink, and the paper cuts littering your fingers made you feel like you'd survived some kind of industrial accident.
Still, there wasn't much else to do.
The first day of school always killed business during the morning rush. Parents were busy crying over kindergarten drop-offs and taking pictures of their kids. Nobody was thinking about pastries.
At least, almost nobody.
The bell above the door jingled an you glanced up and immediately recognized the man walking through the entrance. The police uniform. Familiar face.
Officer Garrick.
He came in often enough while on duty that you'd both reached that comfortable middle ground between customer and acquaintance. "No school today?" he asked as he approached the counter.
"Not for me." You grabbed your order pad and leaned forward. "Online classes, 4:30 everyday."
"Ah," He nodded like it explained everything. "Living the dream."
You snorted. "That's one way to put it. What can I get you?" you asked.
"Small loaf. Half a dozen blueberry muffins, you know how it is.” You glanced toward the bread shelf to make sure you still had small loafs of scalli left– and of course you did, barely anyone else had come in.
"All in one box?"
He stared at you, "Do you still have to ask?"
"Just making sure,” you snorted,
"You've been working here for, what, two years now?" he commented, trying to make a point.
"Three."
"That's even worse." You laughed and pulled on a glove, and as you started packing the bread, Garrick rested his forearms on the counter and looked around the mostly empty bakery. "It’s dead in here."
"First day of school, parents too busy getting their kids out of bed and taking pictures.."
"Makes sense," He mumbled and nodded toward the stack of folded boxes behind you. "That what you've been doing all morning?"
"Yeah, if I’m not doing something someones gonna come fire me," You huffed, you’d told him before about the awful management, he found your dread funny in a sarcastic kind of way. "Looks thrilling."
"Oh, yeah. Living on the edge."
"Careful. Adriana might catch you having fun." You barked out a laugh, "Please don't say her name,” you said as if her name held the same weight as voldemorts. He’d summon her if he said her name too loud. "That bad?"
"She's cut my hours."
"Ouch."
You shrugged. "I used to work till six, now I’m working till three, every day.
He winced. "Yeah, alright. That sucks." You pointed at him. "See? That's what I've been saying, the other girls aren’t affected by it cause they work the later shift, so all i’m getting is lazy sympathy even though we’re on the same side," you huffed, not tryin to throw any shade towards the girls, just complaining about the hours in general.
"Well, now you've got a police officer backing your complaint."
"I'm sure that'll help."
"Absolutely not," You laughed again as you slipped the loaf into a plastic bag.
"So why online school?" he asked. “Less stress… No teachers breathing down my neck, and it gives me enough time to work during the day and do school work at night,” you explained. You had no choice but to work because of your financial situation… But you couldn’t just give up on your diploma or GED because of that. Once your brother is grown, maybe then you would be able to pursue an out of high school education.
“Can’t argue with that.
"You didn't do online school?"
"Didn't really have that option."
"Ancient times?"
“Hey now…”
You grinned. "Cheeky."
"You're the one buying six muffins at a time."
"They aren't all for me, my daughters and the people at home,” you’d heard about his daughters before. He was a very proud dad, it was kind of cute, kind of made you miss your own dad… Even though you hated him. You’re sure what you miss is the idea of him, not your dad himself.
"A convenient excuse."
He laughed.
"You think I'd eat six muffins by myself?"
You looked him up and down thoughtfully. "...Maybe."
"Oh, that's rude."
The two of you shared a laugh while you packed up the muffins. At work, the corniness really took over and the jokes you’d usually make unironically became ironic. "They disappear the second I bring them home anyway."
"Big family?"
"Big enough."
Vague as always. Not that you expected anything different, he never spoke much about his partners, as the most you knew was that he had partners plural. You were sure he kept it to himself because whatever relationship he had going on at home might be considered taboo, but you had an open mind. Not only did you generally not care about people's preferences, the guy bought his privacy with the tips he gave you.
You slid the box into the bag and set everything on the counter.
"Twenty-three even."
Without missing a beat, Garrick handed over a fifty, and you looked at the bill. Then at him. And then back at the bill. "Uh."
"Mm?"
"This is fifty,” you deadpanned.
"Good eye." You narrowed yours.
"Officer Garrick…" You awkwardly threw out, and he immediately looked amused. "What?"
"That's too much."
"Nah."
"That's like thirty dollars extra?"
"Aye, and?"
You stared and he stared back… You both knew exactly where this was going. "I can't take that,” you said blatantly.
"Sure you can."
"No, seriously, you don’t owe me anything, you know?” you tried to explain. It made you feel bad that he may have taken your conversation the wrong way, thinking that maybe you needed the ‘change’ more than him… You weren’t trying to imply anything by telling him you work in exchange for in person school, you didn’t want him to think you were.
"Think of it as a first-day-of-school bonus."
"I don't even go to school!
"Online school is still school."
"I already have supplies."
"Then buy snacks."
"I work at a bakery."
"Then buy better snacks."
You huffed a laugh despite yourself.
"There," he said.
"What?"
“You laughed, so you have to keep it," he explained as he grabbed the bag by it’s handles and hung it on his handles. He called you cheeky, but he was much worse… You pushed the uncomfortable feeling into the back of your mind and folded the bill to tuck it away.
"Thanks."
"Anytime, you have a good shift, alright?"
"You too."
He started toward the door before stopping. Turning around, he nodded toward the pile of boxes waiting for you. "Try not to die of excitement."
"No promises." A grin pulled at the corner of his mouth.
"Stay safe, kid."
Then he headed out the door, leaving you alone with a bakery full of cardboard boxes and twenty-seven dollars you hadn't expected to make that day.
It came as a surprise when you never got a call from the school asking you to pick up your brother.
Of course, Sam hated feeling like he was keeping you from work, so you knew he'd avoid calling if he could. Still, whenever his anxiety got the better of him, he was usually quick to ask for help. You couldn't really hold that against him. When you were his age, you'd refused to ask for help no matter how much you needed it, and it had left you with more than a few problems throughout school.
You did wish he were just a little more independent, though.
Then again, he was only in kindergarten. Once he started making real friends, he'd probably be much more comfortable spending time away from you.
You biked back to the school and arrived around 3:15, right as dismissal was starting. Even though you'd complained about losing work hours, part of you had to admit this was more convenient. At least now you didn't have to figure out some alternative pickup arrangement with your boss.
You locked your bike at the rack and waited by the front entrance.
When Sam finally came out, he was walking alongside the little girl from that morning. Both of them looked excited, chatting away as if they were discussing plans for a sleepover already. He was so caught up in the conversation that he nearly walked right past you. "Sammy!"
His little head whipped around immediately. "Sabieee!" He darted over and wrapped himself around your legs. "It was terrible!" he said dramatically, and yet his cheeks were chubbier than usual from smiling so much.
"Oh yeah?" you asked. "Was it? Because from where I was standing, it looked like you were having fun" Sometimes when Sam convinced himself something was terrible, he didn't realize he was actually enjoying himself.
You nodded toward the girl lingering nearby. "Is this your new friend? You just ran away from her. That's pretty rude," the little girl glanced over nervously, the way kids usually did around adults they didn't know. Not that you were really an adult. Just older.
"Ah..." Sam mumbled awkwardly. "Go get her, tntroduce me to your new friend. I can wingman for you." You winked.
"It's not like that!" he protested immediately, cheeks turning bright red. You laughed. "Okay, okay. Just go."
With an exaggerated huff, he shuffled back over before gently grabbing the girl's wrist and guiding her toward you. "Sabie, this is Missy. Missy, this is my sister, Sabie."
"Hi..." she mumbled. It was cute, considering how comfortable she'd seemed around Sam. Apparently she was one of those kids who became shy around older people. "Hey there. I love your shirt." You crouched slightly to her level, and she immediately looked a little less nervous. "Is that Grim? I used to watch that when I was little. I didn't even know they still made those."
"They don't. My daddy got it for me at Savers."
"...That's nice, sweetie."
"Sabie, can we have a playdate?"
There it was.
Honestly, you had been expecting it. The two of them had been talking so excitedly that you wouldn't have been surprised if they'd spent the entire day planning one. For all you knew, they'd also choreographed an interpretive dance to perform if you said no.
"Well, I don't see why not," you said. "We'd just need to get in contact with one of Missy's parents first."
"Aye, well, that winnae be too hard—ah'm right here." You turned and found the familiar Scotsman stepping up beside you and Missy's face lit up instantly, launching herself at hims and wrapping her arms around his legs, just as Sam had done to you. "Papa, can we have a playdate? Pleaaaasssseee? Please please pleaaa—"
"Aye, aye, ma goodness," he groaned dramatically. "Ye dinnae even seem happy tae see me! Ah thocht ye'd be excited efter a lang day!"
"I missed you sooooo much. Can I have a playdate?"
You couldn't help laughing as Johnny peeled her off his leg while she pouted dramatically, all traces of her earlier shyness gone. "His sister said it was okay!" Missy insisted. "She just needs your number!"
Johnny shot you an exasperated look. "First day an' she's awready makin' demands, eh? Ha... Dae ye hae yer faither's number ye could gie me?"
You were more than happy to let the kids have a playdate, in fact, you encouraged it. The only issue was that giving Johnny your father's number would be pointless. The man barely answered your own calls.
"My dad's a little busy," you said with a shrug. "Why don't I just give you mine? I take him everywhere anyway." The words slipped out easily, maybe a little too easily with the way Johnny hesitated.
His eyes flicked briefly toward Sam, then back to you, you suddenly became aware of how odd it might’ve sounded: a teenager handling pickups. A teenager arranging playdates. A teenager offering her number because she was apparently the point of contact for her little brother.
You rushed to smooth it over before he could think too hard about it. "Just for the kids," you added. "It's easier that way."
"Aye, o' course."
But there was still that pause… You resisted the urge to fidget and opened your mouth to fix it. "Dad works a lot," you said lightly as if you’d rehearsed it in the mirror plenty.. "He's not exactly glued to his phone."
Johnny's expression softened a fraction.
"Aye?"
You shrugged again. "Someone's gotta keep track of Sammy." It was meant as the kind of joke that people laughed and moved on from, and Johnny did chuckle, but his gaze lingered for a second longer than you would have liked– Long enough that you knew he kept it in the back of his mind, so you moved on to keep the though from lingering
"Anyway," you said,, "if you text me, I'll make sure these two don't drive us completely insane trying to schedule this."
"Yer da's keepin' himsel' busy, eh?" Johnny quipped as he finally pulled out his phone. And you laughed. "He has to keep us going somehow." You motioned toward the bike rack where Sam was already waiting. "We should get going. I've got some schoolwork to do, and this guy too, soon enough," you nudged Sam.
"Ah, me too. Ah've gottae find the other wee yin." Johnny gave a small nod as he pulled Missy out of the way. "See ye around."
"See you then, Mr. Johnny."
The two kids beckoned a loud goodbye and you smiled and wheeled your bike out of the rack before helping Sam climb onto the back.
"Get hame safe, aye?"
"Of course. Thanks."
You pushed off and started pedaling toward the gate and only a few moments later, you felt Sam squeeze your waist. "You said I could get ice cream?"
You blinked, remembering that you had promised him that…
"Oh, yeah. Let's go then. But we have to be quick, okay? I've got a class at four-fifteen."
Sam's arms tightened happily around your waist. As you pedaled down the street, you found yourself thinking about the extra twenty-seven dollars you'd earned today.
You already knew exactly where at least some of it was going.