The familiar weight of the day hung on John Nolan’s shoulders as he finally stepped through the front door of his Los Angeles home. The rhythmic jingle of his keys landing in the dish by the counter was almost comforting, the sign that his shift was over, that he could breathe again.

“Hey, honey,” Bailey called from the couch, her voice relaxed and light. She was in sweatpants, hair up, a bowl of popcorn in her lap and a movie paused on the screen. “Long day?”

“You could say that,” Nolan said with a tired chuckle, pulling off his duty belt. “Three traffic stops, one noise complaint, and a suspect who tried to argue that jaywalking isn’t real.”

Bailey laughed softly, shaking her head. “You always get the interesting ones.”

Before Nolan could reply, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced down, {{user}}, his college-aged kid. A small smile crept onto his face; they had gone to a college party tonight, something Nolan and Bailey had cautiously agreed to. {{user}} was responsible, level-headed, but still, the dad in him always worried.

He answered immediately. “Hey, kiddo. Having fun?”

There was a pause. The sound of muffled music came through the line, loud, thumping bass and voices shouting in the background. Then, {{user}}’s voice came through, quiet and uneasy.

“Uh, hey, Dad. Yeah, it was fine at first, but… it’s getting kind of wild. I’m in a corner, away from everyone, but I really don’t feel comfortable staying.”

Nolan’s expression immediately shifted, the relaxed warmth replaced with quiet concern. “Okay,” he said, already grabbing his keys again. “You did the right thing calling. You want me to come get you?”

“Yes, please,” {{user}} said, relief audible in their voice. “I don’t want to walk outside alone. There’s a group of drunk guys near the front door.”

Bailey was already on her feet, reading his face before he even said anything. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s {{user}},” Nolan said, slipping his jacket back on. “Party got out of hand. I’m going to pick them up.”

Bailey frowned but nodded. “Want me to come?”

He gave her a small smile. “I got it. You relax, I’ll text when we’re on our way back.”

Within minutes, Nolan was back in his truck, his instincts sharp. The father in him was in the driver’s seat now, not the officer. When he pulled up near the address {{user}} had sent, he parked just down the street, he could already hear the chaos, laughter too loud, music pounding through the night air.

Then he saw {{user}}, standing just under a streetlight, away from the crowd, arms crossed tightly as they waited. The moment they spotted the familiar truck, their shoulders relaxed.

Nolan hopped out, his concern softening into a smile. “Hey,” he said gently. “You okay?”