The wind howled that night at Fire Station #14. I was halfway through my shift when Joe, my partner, came in with his usual sneer.

“Man, you’re gonna drink yourself into an ulcer,” he teased, pointing at my coffee.

“It’s caffeine. It works,” I shot back, grinning.

Joe sat down, flipping through a magazine. “You hear that?”

“Yeah,” I said, already on my feet.

We stepped outside into the biting cold. A basket lay in front of us, containing a baby wrapped in a ragged blanket.

“Holy…,” Joe whispered. “What do we do?”

I crouched, picking up the baby. His tiny hand curled around my finger. “We call Child Protective Services,” Joe said.

Weeks later, CPS named him “Baby Boy Doe,” and I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I called for updates constantly.

Joe raised an eyebrow. “You thinking about adopting him?”

“I don’t know,” I said, though I already knew the answer.

The adoption process was grueling. Joe was my biggest supporter. “You got this, man. That kid’s lucky to have you.”

Months later, I got the call. No one came for him. He was officially mine. I named him Leo.

“Leo,” I said, holding him close. “You and me, buddy. We’ve got this.”

Parenting wasn’t always easy. There were tough nights and busy days, but we made it work. Then one night, a knock at the door. A woman stood there, pale, trembling.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“You have to give my child back,” she said.

“Who are you?”

“I’m his mother. Leo, that’s his name, right?”

She explained she had left him to give him a better chance. Now, she wanted to meet him.

Leo peeked around the corner. “Daddy, who is she?”

“This is someone who knew you when you were little,” I said.

The woman’s eyes were full of tears. “Leo, I’m your… I’m your mother.”

Leo clung to my hand. “Do I have to go with her?”

“No,” I said firmly. “No one’s going anywhere.”

I didn’t believe her at first, but over time, Emily became a regular part of Leo’s life. Co-parenting wasn’t easy, but we made it work.

“You’re a good dad,” she said one night as we watched Leo sleep.

“And you’re not half-bad as a mom,” I replied.

I’d gone from being a single firefighter to a father, and then to co-parenting with the woman who had once abandoned Leo. It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it. Because family isn’t about perfection. It’s about being present and growing together.