Chapter 1- Twins
Jesse
The smell of coffee fills Bret and Mindy’s kitchen—strong enough to peel paint. I’m halfway through my second mug, watching the steam curl off the rim while Bret wrestles with a box of my stuff near the door.
“Pretty sure you own more hoodies than any human should,” he mutters.
“Comfort’s a lifestyle,” I say, stretching my arm—the one that finally works again without the sling. “Besides, you’ll miss me when the place gets too quiet.”
Mindy laughs from the counter, tying her hair up as she flips pancakes. “Quiet? With Bret? Not possible.”
She’s right. The house still hums with the same energy it had before Hawaii—warm, lived‑in, and full of noise. I’ve been crashing here since the hospital, but now that I’m healed, it’s time to move my stuff back to my apartment.
“Feels weird,” I admit. “Like I’m leaving summer camp.”
“Except you didn’t do crafts,” Bret says. “You just stole my coffee and complained about your sunburn.”
I grin. “Hey, you’re the one who thought SPF 15 was enough for a guy who glows in the dark.”
He snorts. “You’re lucky I like you.”
I smirk. “Pretty sure it’s the other way around, man. You’re marrying my sister—you’re lucky I like you.”
Bret laughs, shaking his head. “Fair point.”
Mindy slides a plate of pancakes onto the table. “You two were ridiculous in Oahu. I still can’t believe you convinced the bartender to name a drink after you.”
I grin. “The ‘Sunburn Special’? Iconic.”
Bret groans. “It was just rum and regret.”
“Exactly,” I say. “Perfect representation of you.”
Mindy snorts, pouring syrup. “Amanda’s wedding was gorgeous, though. I still can’t get over those bungalows—the ocean right there, the lights strung across the sand…”
“Yeah,” Bret says, leaning back against the counter. “Andrew looked like he was gonna pass out when she walked down the aisle.”
“Pretty sure he did,” I add. “I saw him forget how to breathe.”
Mindy smiles softly. “It was nice, though. Everyone together again. Felt like the world finally slowed down.”
“Until the flight home,” Bret says. “Pretty sure Brendon declared war on the seatbelt sign.”
I laugh. “And Ashton drooled on my shoulder for three hours. I’m still recovering.”
“Family bonding,” Mindy says, grinning.
“Trauma,” I correct. “But yeah, same thing.”
The three of us laugh, the sound easy and familiar—the kind that fills the kitchen and makes the house feel alive.
Before I can add another jab, Mindy’s phone buzzes on the counter. She glances at it, smile fading.
“Hold on,” she says, picking it up. “It’s the hospital.”
Her voice changes—soft at first, then sharp. “Wait—what? Collapsed?”
The word hits like a punch. Bret freezes mid‑step. I set my mug down hard enough to slosh coffee over the rim.
“What do you mean, ‘collapsed’?” Mindy’s voice trembles now. “Did you call Andrew? Are they running tests?”
She listens, eyes wide, color draining from her face.
“Okay,” she whispers. “Okay. We’ll be there.”
She hangs up, staring at the phone like it might explain itself.
“Mindy,” I say quietly. “What happened?”
Her breath shakes. “Amanda collapsed at work—in the ER. They’re running tests, but they don’t know what’s wrong yet.”
Bret’s already grabbing his keys. “We’ll go—”
Mindy cuts him off, voice breaking. “They tried calling Andrew. He didn’t answer.”
That’s all I need to hear. “He won’t,” I say, already moving. “He pulled back‑to‑back doubles this week. He’s dead asleep.”
“Jesse—”
“I’ll get him up,” I say, heading for the door. “You two go straight to the hospital. I’ll meet you there.”
The air outside is thick with summer heat, heavy and unmoving. I sprint across the yard, cutting through the hedges between our houses. Andrew’s porch light is off, his cruiser parked crooked in the drive—confirmation enough that he crashed hard after his shift.
I pound on the door, hard enough to rattle it. “Andrew! Open up!”
No answer. I hit it again, louder. “Andrew, it’s Jesse—you need to get up!”
A groan from inside, then footsteps. The door swings open, and Andrew’s standing there, half‑awake, hair a mess, uniform pants still on.
“What—” he starts, voice rough.
“It’s Amanda,” I say, breathless. “She collapsed at work. They’re running tests. Mindy and Bret are already on the way.”
He blinks, the words sinking in, then his face drains of color. “What?”
“She’s at the hospital,” I say quickly. “They didn’t say what’s wrong. Just—get dressed. I’ll drive.”
Andrew’s already moving, grabbing his shirt, his phone, and his wallet. His hands shake as he fumbles with the buttons.
“Hey,” I say, steadying him. “She’s in good hands, okay? She’s at her own hospital. They’ll take care of her.”
He nods, but his breathing’s shallow and his eyes unfocused. “She was fine this morning,” he mutters, voice cracking. “She said she was fine.”
“I know,” I say quietly. “We’ll figure it out.”
He swallows hard, grabs his keys off the counter, and follows me out.
The porch light flickers as we step into the heat. I can feel the tension rolling off him—that mix of fear and disbelief that hits before your brain catches up.
“Come on,” I say, guiding him toward my car. “Let’s go.”
The drive feels longer than it is. Andrew’s silent beside me, staring out the window like he’s trying to see through the miles. His knee bounces, hands clenched tight in his lap.
“She was fine this morning,” he mutters again, his voice hoarse. “She said she felt good.”
“I know,” I say quietly, eyes on the road. “She’s tough. You know that.”
He doesn’t answer. The hum of the tires fills the silence. My car smells faintly of coffee and old leather—the usual. I keep my speed steady, resisting the urge to floor it. We’re not chasing anyone; we’re just trying to get there.
When we pull into the hospital lot, Bret’s truck is already parked near the entrance. Mindy’s standing just inside the sliding doors, phone in hand, scanning the lot like she’s counting seconds.
She spots us and waves us in. “They said she’s stable,” she says as we rush up. “Still running tests. They’re keeping her in the ER for now.”
Andrew’s halfway to the desk before she finishes. “Amanda Windsor,” he says, voice tight. “She’s a nurse here—she collapsed during her shift.”
The receptionist looks up, startled by the urgency. “Family?”
“Husband,” Andrew says. “And—” He gestures toward us, “her brothers and sister.”
The woman nods quickly. “Room twelve. They’re wrapping up the scan. You can go back.”
Andrew’s already moving. Bret catches his arm gently. “Hey—slow down. She’s okay.”
Andrew doesn’t slow. We follow him down the hall, the smell of antiseptic sharp in the air.
When we reach the room, Andrew’s through the door before I can stop him.
Amanda’s sitting up on the bed, tear‑streaked, the ultrasound monitor still glowing beside her. The tech is finishing up, wiping gel from her stomach, but Andrew doesn’t see any of that—he just sees his wife crying.
“Amanda?” His voice cracks. He’s at her side in two steps, grabbing her hand. “Hey—hey, talk to me. What happened? Are you hurt? Is it the baby?”
Amanda shakes her head quickly, tears spilling faster. “No, no, it’s okay—”
He doesn’t hear her. “You collapsed,” he says, his voice rising. “You collapsed at work, and they called me. I didn’t hear—”
“Andrew.” Mindy’s voice is soft but steady. “She’s okay.”
He turns, wild‑eyed, like he’s trying to make sense of the room. I step closer, hand on his shoulder. “She’s okay, man. Look at her.”
Amanda reaches for him, fingers trembling. “I’m fine, Andrew,” she says softly. “I just got lightheaded. I promise. They said my blood pressure dropped. The babies are fine.”
That word stops him cold. “Babies?”
Amanda laughs through her tears, nodding toward the monitor. “They wanted to do an ultrasound because I passed out. Turns out it’s not one—it’s two.”
Andrew stares at her, then at the screen. Two tiny heartbeats flicker in rhythm.
He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for hours, then laughs—a shaky, disbelieving sound that breaks the tension like glass. He presses his forehead to hers, still gripping her hand. “You’re sure?”
Amanda nods, smiling through tears. “Positive.”
Mindy wipes her eyes, smiling. “You two are unbelievable.”
Bret lets out a low whistle. “Four months in and already doubling down.”
“Twins?” I say, grinning. “Oh, man. Double the diapers, double the chaos. You’re doomed.”
Amanda laughs through her tears, and Andrew finally does too—a shaky, disbelieving sound that breaks the tension like glass.
He laughs again, softer this time, and kisses her hand. “Guess we’re really doing this.”
I grin, the adrenaline finally easing. “You know, I was expecting bad news. Not a family expansion announcement.”
Amanda laughs, her voice thick. “Surprise.”
Andrew looks up at us, eyes bright now. “Best damn surprise I’ve ever had.”
***
Andrew’s still holding Amanda’s hand when my phone buzzes in my pocket. The sound feels wrong in the quiet—too sharp, too ordinary.
I glance at the screen.
Lang.
Of course.
I step out into the hallway, the hum of machines fading behind me. “Lang?” I answer, my voice low.
Lang doesn’t waste time. “Jesse, I need you down at the precinct. This ties the cases together—the one Andrew and I were working when he got shot and the one we worked when you did.”
I stop midstride, the words hitting harder than they should. My shoulder aches like it remembers.
“You’re sure? ” I ask.
Lang exhales. “Positive. You’re not going to believe what we found.”
I glance back toward the room—Andrew’s head bowed, Amanda smiling through tears, and Mindy and Bret hovering close. The kind of moment you don’t interrupt unless you have to.
“I’ll be there in twenty,” I say, and hang up.
For a second, I just stand there, the weight of it settling in. Relief and dread, tangled together.
Then I push the door open again.
Amanda looks up, still smiling. “Everything okay?”
“Work,” I say, forcing a smile. “Lang called. I’ve gotta go.”
Andrew frowns. “Now?”
“Yeah.” I glance at his hand still wrapped around hers. “You just focus on her, alright? I’ll check in later.”
Mindy crosses her arms. “You better. Or I’m sending Bret after you.”
Bret smirks. “And I don’t drive slow.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Noted.”
Amanda squeezes my hand when I lean down to hug her. “Be careful,” she says softly.
“Always,” I promise.
Mindy steps forward, eyes still wet but steady. “You sure you’re good?”
“Yeah,” I say, pulling her into a hug. She holds on tight—the kind of hug that says, ‘Don’t make me worry again.’
“I’ll call when I know more,” I murmur.
“You better,” she says against my shoulder.
I nod, step back, and give them one last look—the family I somehow ended up with, all in one room, safe for now.
Then my shoulder throbs, a sharp reminder of my own close call—and how Amanda almost lost Andrew just over a year ago.
Lang’s words echo in my head.
This ties the cases together—Andrew’s shooting and yours.
Of course it does. Trouble never shows up alone.
I step into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind me, and the quiet feels different now—stretched thin, waiting.
“Peace never lasts long around here,” I mutter, heading for the exit. “Guess it’s my turn again.”
