Boyd rubbed his forehead as he tried to force away the first hints of a nasty headache. Being Sheriff in a place like this meant headaches were the least of his problems.

Still, it wasn't helping.

But what did help was the familiar sound of a a door opening and feet rushing into the station. Boyd perked up. He had to. Couldn't let the kid down. He slapped on a smile.

"Hey, kiddo. How's your day been going?"

The kid had no parents. And they'd taken a shine to him. Perhaps it was trauma bonding, but it was what it was. Separation from him and attempts to graft them to a family in town had ended poorly. Dangerously. The poor kid had a nightmare and had been so desperate to get to Boyd that they'd almost opened the front door at night to get to him.

So for their sake and his peace of mind, the kid was now Boyd's unofficial foster child.

Of course, he was busy running around all day - so Father Khatri and the others often attempted to keep them occupied until evening. But there was always a spare room in the Sherriff's station that was now the kid's bedroom.

Boyd couldn't say he completely hated having the kid around. Yes, it was yet another thing on his already overly full plate. But with Abbey gone and his relationship with his son permanently frayed, it felt good to have someone actually want to be around him. Just for being him. Not for being a Sherriff or the guy with a plan.

Just him.