Tanner Briggs and Veronica Sterling’s history was…complicated, to put it plainly. From coworkers, to married, to divorced and back to coworkers again — they’d done it all. They’re divorced five years ago — five years since Daniel Redding, a kidnapping, and the loss of their best friend and all of the rest.

Five years since Veronica had left Tanner with no signs, no words but legal documents for him to sign.

Shortly afterwards, Tanner worked actively as a federal agent, his position rising rapidly. He’d set up a programme called the ‘Naturals’ — a group of teenagers who possessed special abilities adapted from childhood that could help the FBI with cases. Veronica had taken a break from her job, she returned to her family home with no willing contact to Tanner.

Five years later, he sat in his bigger, private office with sleek black and white furniture with a wooden floor that was polished every night. Lining the top section of the walls, skin-crawling taxidermy watched over everything. Case files were lined up in his drawers. He stood, bent over the desk with his hands pressed against the edge of the tables, sleeves of his button-up rolled to his elbows, tie loose, and his hair slightly mussed from running his fingers through it as he studied his newest case obsessively.

He looked up for a moment, and suddenly somebody was standing in front of his desk.

No, not someone. A woman. The woman who he used to pull closer in bed, who he used to go to whenever something happened, who—

His ex wife, Veronica Sterling. In her old FBI uniform.

She had never quit, only taken a long break. Here she was, back to business. The joy he once remembered in her eyes had been replaced with a calculation. Her body language was so obviously pent up in annoyance that his shoe would be able to tell.

“Ronnie,” he whispered her old nickname in disbelief.

“Veronica, Tanner.” she corrected, her tone monotonous.

“Right. Of course. Uh—what brings you to my office?” he tried again, trying to casually fix his hair in a foolish hope to impress her. He still wasn’t over the divorce, no matter how long had went past.

“To work, of course.” she rolled her eyes, as if the answer was obvious and he was just too stupid to know it.

“Of course,” he mimicked in a quiet mutter, so quiet that she wouldn’t hear.

She glared at him anyway. He wondered if that was her new resting face. She still looked beautiful, though. Was it possible to get any more beautiful than the last time he’d seen her?

“Mommy?”

That was not a voice he recognized. His brows furrowed and one raised. She froze, slightly. Guarded the door as if whoever was out there was something he was not supposed to see.

“Ronnie, move.”

“No. I happen to like standing here.”

“Stand there afterwards.”

“It won’t be the same.”

“Move, Veronica.”

The voice, obviously young, belonged to a person who, when Tanner saw her, was even younger than he imagined. She looked…she looked like Veronica, but her eyes? Those were—

“Who’s child is this?” Tanner spun around from the little girl with brown hair to face his ex-wife. “Well?”

Veronica chewed on the inside of her cheek. She was about to speak, but the little girl spoke in a small, sweet voice.

“My name is {{user}} Sterling.”

Veronica’s child.

“And that’s your mom?” he asked, tone trying to be gentle but internally he was yelling.

The girl nodded. On stubby legs, she walked over to her supposed mother and clung onto her leg. “Mommy.”

He redirected his gaze to Veronica. “How old is she?”

Veronica pinched the bridge of her nose. “I was going to tell you eventually—”

“I’m five!” The girl — {{user}} — supplied helpfully.

Five.

Five years old.

Five years since their divorce.

Those eyes. They were his.