37. Cody
Cody
The following day
I don’t want to like Brogan.
But I do.
I can’t help it.
It’s been eighteen hours and already, he’s following me around like I’m the Pied Piper and he’s an oversized rat.
He definitely has anxiety issues, some of which are founded in abandonment, but hell, we all have those fears, don’t we?
As part of the canine hostage situation that Tee and Callan placed the family under, there was a massive online order that arrived two hours later, complete with dog beds, leashes, water bowls, ten different types of kibble, treats, and toys.
Honestly, it looks like we’re starting a pet food store.
The builders who are on-site for the dog shelter as well as the new breeding stables eyed the concoction with wide eyes, but when you have an eighteen-year-old with a black Amex and a trust fund to back it up, this kind of ‘haul’ should be expected.
Brogan was chill up until I started to leave for work. Call me a softy, but I couldn’t stand his whining and distressed barks after I closed the kitchen door. Which is why he’s sitting on my passenger floorboard.
When my cell rings, he jumps but settles down almost immediately, resting his chin on the seat.
“Sir, we have a situation.”
Eyes flashing, I pull over. “Details, Sinjin.”
Michael ‘Sinjin’ St. John is our new on-site head of security. I was deployed with him a few years back. We weren’t the closest, but he was a damn fine MP, so when I heard that he and his wife, Bryony, set up a firm, I got in touch.
“Graham Brackton’s security people have been asking questions around town.”
“What?!” This is the first I’ve heard anything about this. “When?”
“The sanctuary’s still a secret from most of the town, and Jacqueline’s been more reclusive than most of the residents. Our men spoke with Harry from the bakery, who was visited by two investigators asking questions about a Ms. Van Der Mils, but he told us that he’d never heard of her.”
I rub my chin. “He’ll be asking questions himself.”
“He was curious.”
Nosy bastard is the self-styled gossip king of Pigeon Creek…
“I’ll have Colt talk to him.” Only Colt has the patience to deal with that jackass. “Recommendations?”
“Prioritize scheduling the patrols so we have a police presence.”
“Won’t that draw attention to the ranch?”
“Perhaps, but the town’s already talking about how there are bodyguards around every Korhonen apart from yourself when any of the family show up. People are uneasy, so that’ll probably cover a lot of questions.
“The timing is too good to waste.”
“Agreed. I’ll see to that today.” Blindly, I stare ahead. “How did he even manage to locate her?”
“Technically, he didn’t.”
“He deployed investigators in Pigeon Creek,” I snap. “Has she called family? Could they have given him any information as to her whereabouts?”
“I’ll speak with her, but I doubt it.”
“Tread carefully.”
Sinjin scoffs out a laugh. “This ain’t my first rodeo, Korhonen.”
“It is in these parts.”
“We need to talk about some of the security measures your brother implemented.”
“The less than legal ones?” I ask wryly. “I know about them.”
“In a past life, he clearly secured the crown jewels.”
“It was on my list of shit to rectify, but I’m even more hesitant to scrap his protocols when Brackton’s figured out his wife is here.”
Sinjin sighs. “Agreed. I’ll update you as soon as I have any info.”
The call disconnects, leaving me frowning at the road, but almost immediately, my cell buzzes again. This time, I answer with a grin, “What’s up, Cole?”
“Nothing’s up. Can’t I just call my bro on a whim? I missed you, fuckface. Did anyone ever tell you you’re bad at staying in touch?”
My lips twitch. “Juggling shifts and time zones wasn’t easy. Also, it works both ways. My cell’s always on.”
His sniff tells me he’s unimpressed by my logical answer. “Heard about the dogs. I’m almost jealous I wasn’t included.”
“Don’t mention that to Callan. The haven is still struggling to house a lot of animals after the flood, so he’d probably overnight one to you.”
“Knowing the little shit, he would. He told me you have a K-9 reject.”
“One with an aversion to shiny floors.”
“You keeping him?”
Leaning over to stroke Brogan’s chin, I drawl, “I don’t think I have much of a choice.” Not for the reasons he’d imagine, either.
This might not be a Tee test, but my only option is to ace it.
“You’re such a sucker.”
I scoff. “Like you can talk. Last week, didn’t you get another cat via the cat distribution system?”
“I’m not the scary pilot.”
“Since when am I scary?”
“Since forever,” he retorts. “So, how’s the fam finding their new pets?”
“Hit and miss. Callan chose a behemoth for Colt. She’s a Bernese mountain dog the haven nicknamed Floof and she takes up a quarter of the den.”
“Floof?!”
“Yeah. She’s all fur over a massive body. You should see the size of her dog bed. Zee and Colt are having to transfer their clothes out of the closet in the master suite to her old room so they have somewhere to put them.”
“Callan mentioned a service dog?”
“For Zee’s diabetes. Tee’s dog doesn’t want anything to do with her, so we’ve had to leave him outside in a paddock. We had to put Callan’s with him. It’s funny because they’re set to be BFFs.”
“Why Callan’s?”
“She went from trying to bite him every chance she could to humping him.” When Cole starts wheezing with laughter, I snicker. “They deserve it for shoving this on us without asking. Though, for the most part, it’s worked out well. They’re damn lucky.”
Or as good at pet matchmaking as they claim.
“Callan picked a pomsky for Mum?”
“Yeah, and a beagle mix for Mrs. Abelman. Aside from Callan and Tee—” The ones who actively wanted dogs. “—we all have new stalkers.”
“Clyde’s probably rolling in his grave.”
“He isn’t dead.”
“We can live in hope,” he jeers. “Callan said he saw Mrs. Abelman leaving Mum’s bedroom last night.”
Though my brows lift, I reason, “She could have been bringing her tea.”
“That’s what we call it nowadays, huh? You and I both know Mrs. Abelman might be our housekeeper, but she doesn’t hand-deliver food and drinks to our rooms.” He clears his throat. “Get this… Callan mentioned she was smiling.”
“Okay, that is weird.”
“Right?”
Mrs. Abelman makes Lurch look friendly sometimes.
I rub my chin, wondering why Callan never discussed this with me during our ride this morning. “You think they’re together?”
“I dunno. Callan was implying that. They haven’t said anything to you?”
“No. But why would they? It’s their business, not ours.”
Cole hums. “How’s it going at work? The RCMP still trying to piss on your desk to claim it as theirs?”
That’s one way of putting it…
“They’re annoying and they’re not splitting the workload like they should, but it’s fine. We’re getting there. Sally-Anne’s on dispatch and she prefers me to Sergeant Reilly so she keeps it fair.” As I pull onto Main Street, I roll my eyes when I see the detachment in the near distance. “Fuckers keep parking in our spaces too.”
“You have a dog now,” Cole chimes in. “He can literally piss on their cars without any comeback.”
I hoot. “Good thinking. When are you coming home again?”
“Dunno. We have a lot of cats and?—”
“Bullshit. You could make it home if you wanted to. Get a catsitter.”
“Mia’s bar?—”
“Is still under construction.”
“Why do you want me there anyway? It’s a full house.”
“Exactly. I liked it when we were all under the same roof.”
“You’re such a dork.”
“Am I a scary pilot or a dork?”
“You’re both.” Cole huffs. “All right, all right. We’ll visit before training camp. I need to check in with Mia on dates.”
I fake-sniffle. “My dipshit brother is growing up.”
“Screw you.”
“Nah. Where’d be the fun in that?”
He blows a raspberry down the line. “I expect a photo of your dog pissing on an RCMP vehicle.”
“On it. Speak later, bud.”
“Yup.”
Parking in the visitor’s lot, I climb out. Brogan, who’s been chill as fuck, immediately cries and barks as I shut the door with a soft order of, “Stay.”
He jumps onto the passenger seat, barking louder as I round the box and head for his door. When he sees me standing there, he stops with the barking but keeps on whining.
“Brogan, no,” I command.
He starts panting—panic setting in before I even have a chance to open his door. When he tries to jump out, I block his path, aware that impulse training is in our immediate future.
“Brogan, sit.” With a yip, he obeys, but he continues panting excessively until I play with his ears. “You need to chill out, buddy. I can’t be with you twenty-four seven.”
His puppy-dog eyes have me caving quickly and I clip on his leash. He doesn’t like the muzzle I slip on next, but he doesn’t grumble, merely tips his head to the side as I fasten the buckles.
It says a lot for his attachment issues that I know I don’t need the leash. The muzzle’s another matter entirely.
So far, he’s been predominantly marshmallow sweet, but who knows if he thinks either of us is being threatened? I’m not willing to jeopardize Tee’s first in-person gift to me.
Ducking into the back seat, I grab the paper bag Mrs. Abelman loaded down with treats for Brogan and a couple drinks for me then lock the door behind me.
When we make it to my parking spot, I snag my phone as I lead Brogan to the back wheel of Reilly’s vehicle and watch him sniff it, then piss on it.
Midstream, I take a picture and send it to Cole.
Me: As requested.
Cole: Dude’s got the Niagara Falls in his bladder.
Snorting, I send him a laughing emoji, then tuck my phone away.
With Brogan at my side, we traverse the parking lot and the detachment entrance.
My day-shift staff are seated at their desks when I step inside the department.
Most of them turn as the door opens, so I remark, “Meet Brogan. He’s our new mascot.”
Sally-Anne frowns. “Is he K-9?”
“No. But he has attachment issues,” I drawl as I stride toward my desk, “and can’t be left alone. Updates? Any sightings of Amy Nygard?”
Marty nervously toys with a pen. “Not yet.”
“The MC must be hiding her. She’s only a kid. She wouldn’t know how to lie low without their help.” Immediately exhausted, I rub my eyes. “What time does their bar open again?”
“Nine onwards. Squad cars are doing drive-bys every night as you requested,” Dion Berrien informs me.
Delving into my lunch bag, I grab an apple. “How’s that working out?”
“Nothing major so far. Most trouble seems to occur around midnight,” Marty chimes in.
“We need to schedule more drive-bys and prepare for more callouts.”
“I’ve no idea how they got their license,” Dion grumbles.
“It’s in one of their women’s names. Eliza Norris.” Marty rocks back in his seat. “No criminal record.”
“Didn’t think they trusted their women that much,” I say wryly.
“God knows what the SLGA? * is thinking. A minuscule investigation would have shown that this is the last type of establishment we need open,” Dion grouses. “Never mind the fact that it’s a dump as well.”
“Who knew you were such a snob, Dion?” I taunt. “Dives are a thing.”
“If I’m a snob because I don’t like a dose of asbestos served with my fries, I’ll accept the label.”
“Sounds bougie to me.”
Dion snorts. “I’ll take it. I’m telling you that place is a fire hazard. So, Nygard? How are we handling that?”
“Where does Fairweather live when he isn’t darkening the halls of Our Lady of Sorrows? The Caribbean?”
“Alberta.”
“Has he returned home yet?”
“I’d assume so. Bennett never pressed charges, and, surprise surprise, the Crown didn’t prosecute so he took off. Bennett told us to contact him if we need to set up an interview.”
I drum my fingers on my knee.
I’m fully aware that I’m behaving with bias and that I should disclose my ties with Paulie Nygard, but... I don’t.
Can’t.
This is the last fucking thing I can do for my best friend.
If the roles were reversed, I’d fully expect Paulie to save Callan’s ass.
Decision made, I change the subject. “We’re going to start running patrols on the Seven Cs.”
Dion lifts a brow. “Any particular reason why? Your family has that place locked up tight and people’ve been talking about the bodyguards that are following Colt around. I’d assume you’d have informed us if there was an active threat against the Korhonens?”
“With Clyde’s case being so high profile, targets are on everyone’s backs. But in this instance, what do you know about Dove Bay?”
Sally-Anne pops up with: “The sanctuary?”
Dion takes a sip of his coffee. “For the dogs?”
So, that gossip’s run around town too.
She taps her nose. “Dove Bay’s hush hush, Dion. Place for domestic abuse survivors to find shelter.”
“How do you know about it if it’s hush hush?”
Sally-Anne sniffs. “Because I listen, Dion. I have ears and I’m not afraid to use them.”
“I have ears too!”
“Where did I work before, Dion?”
“The doc’s office.”
“Exactly. Sometimes, women came in with their faces smashed up and we had to keep it on the down-low while recording everything for their case files. Some of the shit their spouses put those women through...” She shivers. “Rotting in hell’s too kind a fate for some of them.”
Stacking his hands on his hips, Dion growls, “You mean to tell me we have a full-on women’s shelter in Pigeon Creek and no one knows about it?”
“This department does now,” I say dryly. “The RCMP is aware too, as far as I know.
“But we’ll be working tighter with Dove Bay simply because I’ve taken over security for the sanctuary and the ranch.”
“Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”
Attention fixed on Dion, I take a bite of my apple and chew. Slowly. “Do you have a problem with me safeguarding victims of domestic abuse while simultaneously protecting my family, the founders of said sanctuary, from being hurt by said abusers?”
Dion shuffles in his seat. “No.”
“Good.” My lips flatten. “So, we’ll be integrating patrols simply to display a police presence. The bulk of the security will be managed by a private firm. Any deterrent is welcome if it keeps those bastards away.”
Dion rubs the back of his neck. “I know I’m new to this, but isn’t it more terrifying to come face-to-face with black ops security than us?”
I hide a smile. “Perhaps, but a presence is necessary. Why Reilly didn’t handle this before is beyond me. It’s not just my family who has a target on their backs if some jealous ex decides he wants his wife back.” I refuse to think about Brackton. “God only knows what they’re capable of and who they’ll hurt to get what they want.”
Sally-Anne clutches the cross pendant she’s wearing, but Dion boasts, “They’ll have to get through us.”
“Hopefully not through,” I correct. “Ever taken a bullet?”
He swallows. “No.”
“I don’t recommend the experience.”
That earns me a bunch of looks.
“Regarding Amy Nygard?—”
Say what you will about Dion, when he has the bit between his teeth, he won’t let it go.
“Keep the patrols up at the bar. We may have to confer with the RCMP to deal with the MC.” I pluck a business card from my pocket. “This is the security firm working with Dove Bay.” A change of subject is required. “We have reports that investigators are sniffing around town, asking questions about a high-profile resident of the shelter. We’re working on figuring out how they pinpointed her to Pigeon Creek.
“Dion, I want you to speak with the security firm. An ex-MP called Michael St. John is our on-site lead. I need you to become comfortable with him, as I’m appointing you as an official liaison.”
Marty argues, “But, sir!”
I shut down his complaint with a: “I need you with me, Marty.”
Dion dips his chin. “I won’t let you down, chief.”
“It’s not me you have to worry about. It’s the refuge’s residents who matter most. They already know that men aren’t worth shit. Let’s prove to them that some are decent.”
He stands tall. “On it.”
With him on task and distracted from thoughts of Amy Nygard, I arch a brow at Marguerite Dubeau, who’s eyeing me curiously despite not joining in with the conversation. “Are you still working on that mugging in Graceville?” At her nod, I ask, “No CCTV?”
After her update, I snag Brogan’s leash and leave her to work.
Once I reach my office, I sink into my desk chair and watch as Brogan settles at my side.
“Need to get you a dog bed for in here, bud.” I scratch his ears and try not to think about how pleasant his presence is as I pile through the paperwork on my desk.
Hours pass without much distraction, aside from Brogan scenting the office. I keep an eye on him, making sure he doesn’t mark his turf, but he’s a good boy.
Plowing semi-complete, I take a note of the time and register it’s almost lunch.
Me: Bast, is today a good day?
His reply comes in quickly.
Bast: Yeah. You’re in luck. She’s been less lucid lately.
Don’t I know it. This is the first time he’s answered in the positive about me stopping by.
Me: Okay, I’ll be around after lunch.
Shooting off an email to Mrs. Abelman, I proceed to tap out a message to Tee:
Me: You good to come out to the Frobishers’ place?
Tee: Sure.
For someone so verbose, she can be surprisingly succinct via text.
Me: Great. Have a few chores in town to complete, but I’ll be home soon.
Tee:
With a click of my tongue, Brogan traipses after me as I leave my office.
Marguerite’s the only one in the room, but she’s busy on the phone.
With Brogan’s leash in hand, I go to The General Store first and ask Mary to send over the dog bed I purchase to the detachment before grabbing two of those nets that’ll keep Brogan on the right side of my truck if we’re in a crash.
Then, taking another look at the time, I find my ride, install said net, then head out of town and onto the road to the ranch.
October’s incoming, but the weather’s still plenty warm. Some of the leaves are changing, but the whisper of summer remains.
I keep an eye on Brogan as I play some tunes, but he isn’t affected by the volume so I relax into my seat and enjoy the ride.
The first thing I see once I amble down the driveway is Tee waiting on the veranda.
God, I could get used to her waiting for me.
It’s a thought I try to shove aside, but what’d be the point?
Both Callan and Zee sandwich her on the bench.
They appear, as usual, to be bickering.
From the car, I can see the word ‘dog’ being mentioned a lot.
“You two are the ones who should clean up their accidents?—”
“How is that fair?” Callan grouses. “We didn’t pee on the floor.”
“I thought you wanted one, Tee. One. Not one pack .”
“They needed a home!”
“Callan’s building it for them!”
“That isn’t a home. It’ll be a haven. That’s not the same.”
Deciding a referee might be required, I call, “Tee? You ready?”
“We haven’t finished discussing this,” Zee points out.
She hikes her ever-present purse onto her shoulder. “If I see a puddle, I’ll clean it up!”
“Why did you have to get me one who leaks all the time?”
Tee snorts. “They didn’t have a box you can check off for no leaking. Anyway, you can’t argue that she’s better than the app for knowing when your levels are off.”
That has my sister-in-law muttering, “Know-it-all.”
A quick glance at Tee from the corner of my eye tells me she’s smirking. And her smugness doubles down when the Bichon Frisé Zee’s nicknamed Puddle, who’s slumbering at the side of the swing, yips.
A moment later, Zee’s blood sugar monitoring app sounds an alarm.
“I mean, I hate to say ‘I told you so,’” Tee drawls as she sources a packet of trail mix from her ‘suitcase.’ “But I have no problem being right.”
Zee flips her the bird before tearing into the wrapper once it flops onto her lap after bouncing off her shoulder.
Now Tee’s engaged in a stare-off with Zee, looking fit to weaponize a cashew nut, I inform Callan, “The marshals are liaising with the security firm.”
“I was hoping you’d make that happen.”
“Yup. Should have handled it sooner, but with the new security team in, I wanted their take.
“The ranch is on the list of patrols as of today. Though, we may have to ditch some of your protocols, seeing as they’re only legal inside of places like the CCP.”
Callan’s nose wrinkles. “Private land.”
“That you know exactly what I’m talking about is problematic.” Tee loses the stare-off when she jumps into my truck. As Zee pumps her fist in celebration, I tell Callan, “I’m a cop, baby bro. You win some; you lose some. Just make them less illegal, all right?”
“Seventy percent illegal?”
I roll my eyes. “Fifty.”
When I climb behind the wheel, I find Tee riffling through her things again. “Mrs. Abelman told me you asked for this.” This being a paper bag, one loaded with goodies, that she withdraws from her Mary Poppins’ purse.
I slide my shades back onto my nose before I set off. “Figured we could grab lunch.”
“You figured, huh?”
“Wishful thinking,” I proffer hopefully.
“You’re clearly a fan of miracles.”
I clear my throat. “A man can dream.”
“Dream... Strong verb choice. I like it.”
“I thought yesterday and the letters…”
“You have one problem. Well, two, actually.”
“And they are?”
“One, you betrayed me.” That has me wincing, though it’s not exactly news to me. “Two, you haven’t asked me. Maybe I already ate.”
“I don’t doubt you did, but I’m pretty sure there’s room in there for one of Mrs. Abelman’s Nanaimo bars.” I may have scored her love of Nanaimo bars from Colt. “I know they’re not Zee’s, but Mrs. Abelman’s are just as good.”
“Debatable.” Her nose wrinkles, but she dips into the paper bag. “There are two.”
Like the wise man I can sometimes be, I murmur, “They’re both for you.”
“They are?”
“Yes.”
“What are you having?”
“The cookie.”
“That better be a euphemism!”
I think back to what I said and cough out a laugh. “It was, but if both types are in stock, I’m amenable.”
She falls silent, so I peek a look at her and notice she’s gaping at me.
Better that than crying.
Or screaming.
“So, you’d eat me for lunch, huh?”
“Yes.”
That wasn’t on the agenda, but fuck if I won’t put it right to the top of the list if it means she’ll talk to me.
Properly.
Not about dogs.
A hum filters through the cab.
The tension in my shoulders fades and I settle deeper into my seat.
God, I missed that hum.
I’m so fucking screwed. She’s only given me the cold shoulder for a little while and I feel like she sent me to Outer Siberia on a sabbatical.
“You’re going to apologize via orgasms, are you?”
“Is that an option?” I ask carefully, hands flexing on the wheel.
More silence.
Then, I find her delving into one of the sandwiches and plucking a piece of ham from it.
As Brogan feasts, she hums again, and I let it filter through me like a fucking drug.
I swear to God, she’s better than ibuprofen.
Or Viagra.
I mean, my dick got hard the second she started talking about cookies.
“What’s with the net?” she asks, surprising me by changing the subject.
“It’s for his own good.”
“I’m in a dilemma,” she ultimately declares, having accepted my answer. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed you heading to our spot.”
Our spot.
Hell, yes, we have a spot!
“What’s the dilemma?”
“Men are like dogs. If I train you to give me orgasms by way of an apology, that seems a little screwy.”
Someone would be a little screwy...
“What do you mean?”
“Isn’t it positive reinforcement?”
“Depends,” I muse. “Orgasms are different to sex.”
“How so?”
“I don’t have to get off for you to.”
“So, in the future, if you started giving orgasms without wanting them in turn, then I could use that to know when you fucked up?”
“Technically.”
“See, that sounds dangerous.”
“For your erogenous zones, perhaps.”
She snickers. “Shut up.”
I grin at the road. “Wouldn’t be much of a conversation if I did.”
“Silence might be wise. I clearly can’t be trusted to act in my best interest. I thought we could get to know each other better. Personality speaking. Not sex organs speaking.”
She has a point.
“Cole did well last night, huh?”
“Yeah, it was a great game. Can’t wait for the season to start. I just know the Stars are going to whoop ass.”
I clear my throat when she falls silent—silence doesn’t suit her. ”How’s it going with Milord?”
“Badly. And Rocket keeps biting Callan. I don’t get how it went wrong,” she complains. “None of you wanted a dog and we did, and yours love you, and Callan and I are left out in the cold!”
“We’ll work on him later tonight.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
She purses her lips. “How did you and Bast Frobisher fall out?”
As I turn off the road and toward the three McAllister lakes that I took her to that first night, I mutter, “We fell out because of a girl.”
She tenses. “What happened?”
“His ex preferred my bank account to his and she tried to imply...”
“That you wanted her?! Wait, is this that skank, Samantha?! I heard all about her from Nonna. She flounced around town like she owned the damn place.” A shocked gasp escapes her. “ You’re why!”
“No, I’m not. I only met her a handful of times when I was in Saskatoon and I hung out with Bast. She was there as his girlfriend. Next thing I damn well know, she’s claiming we’re having an affair!”
Her eyes widen. “No way.”
“Don’t salivate. It’s rude.”
“Honestly, you Korhonens have the best stories.” Unsurprisingly, she’s chewing on one of the sandwiches. “Go on.”
“Nothing. I told him that I had about as much interest in fucking her as a rattlesnake and that she was the deluded one. He dumped her but thought I encouraged her.”
“That’s so unfair!”
“Yeah. It was. Ricky’d died?—”
“You didn’t mention him that much.”
“Couldn’t talk about him,” I rasp. “He was the first of my graduating class to…” Her hand flitters over my knee when I struggle to get the words out. That alone is a comfort. “Then, Paulie, you remember him from our letters?”
“‘Course I do. You watched him...”
Burn alive.
I manage to bite out, “Paulie and Ricky were an item so things were rough.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Paulie was messed up at the end. After we lost Ricky, morale was so bad. I came home for a visit, and everything fell apart with Bast. It was a real clusterfuck. It should be better today with Bast, though. We’ve texted a couple times. Broken the ice some more.”
Not as much as I’d have liked, but I get it. He’s running himself ragged on the ranch.
“I-I wish you’d told me about your injuries,” she mutters, plucking out some more ham for Brogan. “I’d have come to you in the hospital.”
“I couldn’t have stood that. I learned something about myself as I had to go through that long, intense healing process, Tee. I’m a proud man.”
“You’re an idiot, is what you are.”
“That too. There was... I didn’t know if... The second I sent the letter, I regretted it.”
“As you should have.”
“I had to send?—”
“Why?!” she growls.
I hesitate over my answer. “I saw you when you came to the BBQ. You were fucking furious at me. And hurt. So hurt. I had no way of knowing I’d see the fallout from the letter with my own eyes. Not when I’d sent the damn thing months earlier. I was left missing you and wishing I’d never sent it, all without realizing you didn’t know I’d cut ties.
“I was so fucking happy to see you. You’ve no idea. But I couldn’t… If you’d known I was Butch, you’d have tossed me in the BBQ?—”
“You were scared I’d hurt you?!”
“No! Hell, I can duck. Even with a fucked-up leg and a crutch. What I’m saying, badly , is that I didn’t want you to deal with the fallout of my own insecurities or my stupidity, so I determined to let you go for your own sake.
“Time passed and having you so close without knowing me like only you do was fucking painful. I had to tell you. I couldn’t live with this half-relationship. A part of me hoped we might be able to start afresh, but why would I want that when we were already so fucking good together?
“You’re so much better in real life, Tee. One of the reasons I wrote the letter was still in play, but you’re you . I couldn’t resist you. The real you. As much as I picked up on in our letters, I could never have anticipated how you were more impactful in person.
“In the letters, you were 55% fireball, 45% sass. But in real life, you were 100% fireball, and I’ve never wanted to be burned so fucking much.
“When you pushed me in the water and then took my damn truck, it was such a classic T move that I’d have laughed if I didn’t know how badly I’d treated you.”
I cast her a quick look, hoping that my words are getting through to her. When I see her pouting, I take a deep, relieved breath, certain that we’ve turned a corner that isn’t dog-related and requires no pens and paper.
“You deserved the dunking.”
“I did. Totally.”
“You’re lucky I came back.”
“I am. So lucky.”
She sniffs. “My nonna asked me why I wasn’t shouting at you. She said that when I received the letter, I must have wanted to ream you a new one, so why wasn’t I getting in your face?”
“I didn’t expect you to retreat. That was even worse. Anyone else, I’d have waded straight into battle with you.” Because we’ve reached the lake, I park then shift to face her. “Do you know that you make me question life? Shit I never fucking thought about before, you bring it to the front of my mind. I need you to understand that you’re unique and you make me choose to be a better man.”
She blinks.
“And not because you’re hella smart, but because you’re fucking awesome. Everything about you. One of the reasons I said goodbye was because I knew you enough to recognize that you’d have planted yourself by my bedside and you’d have cursed at me until...” I swallow. “There were some dark days, Tee. I didn’t want you to have to be there to see that. It wasn’t your responsibility. I wasn’t your responsibility.”
She studies the sandwich in her lap for so long that I lose hope of her replying, then: “You told me you loved photography.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Have you picked up a camera since you came home?”
“No.”
“Okay. I’ve decided on a multifaceted ceasefire with options for multiple offerings at an apology.”
I release a second relieved breath.
This is Tee—of course she has a strategy for an apology. “Hit me with it.”
“You can always say no.”
“If I wanted to say no, I’d have said it when I received your letter. Tell me.”
“Orgasms.”
“That I can do.”
“Yes, yes, you can,” she purrs. The drop in her tone has me hiding a grin.
“Liked it, did you?”
“You know I did.”
“The screams gave it away.”
“That’s not all.”
“I’m listening to the multifaceted apology strategy.”
“No competition or medal tables. Orgasms don’t equal an apology. You were an idiot, but you’re a man so I should have expected it. I come, you come?—”
“I’m never going to say no to that,” I rasp, but what I don’t say is that I intend to get her addicted to me.
She’s right. I’m a man. I’ll fuck up in the future. If I give her what no one else can, not just orgasms, but jokes, understanding, acceptance, comfort, and love, she’ll forgive me my sins. She’ll remember how good we are together. I might have dozens of lake-dunkings in my future, but I’ll take it.
I won’t lose her.
I can’t.
Not again.
“If I have a question, you have to answer it.”
“Agreed.” I grimace then tease, “Be gentle with me?”
Her snort tells me how well that’s going to go.
“I want to see some pictures you’ve taken.”
“Fine. They’re not that good,” I warn.
“I don’t care. I want you to take photos of me.”
“What kind of pictures?”
Her smirk clues me in. “You have to make me sexy.”
“You’re the sexiest woman in the fucking universe, Tee. That shouldn’t be a problem.”
Just the thought of taking pictures of her like that…
Mind.
Blown.
She hums—ten seconds.
She likes my answer.
Honestly, her humming is becoming the soundtrack to my life.
“What else?”
“Dinner with Nonna at some point, but I want this on the down-low.”
“‘This’ meaning ‘us?’”
“Yes.”
I scowl. “Why?”
“Because if we don’t, Mom will pressure me into being normal, and I don’t want to be normal.”
“So we’re fake not-dating?”
“Exactly.” She beams at me. “Everyone knows I’m mad at you?—”
“Yes, I saw Dora from The Coffee Shop glare at me this morning. Assume that’s you?”
“Of course. Nonna gets around. She hasn’t said why we’ve fallen out, only that we have.”
I roll my eyes. “Great.”
“Don’t worry. She won’t spit in your coffee.”
“Jesus.” I rub my brow. “Okay. Fake un-dating. Is that it?”
“I want you to come to a crystal store with me.”
“Done.”
She beams a smile at me, and all her whacky rules—though I expected worse—make it so worth it for that genuine sign of happiness coming from her.
“Any other rules?”
“I don’t do rules. I do checklists.”
“Fine. Is the checklist complete?” At her hum, I understand that the ‘checklist’ is buildable. Honestly? I’ll fucking take it. “So, what first?”
She stares at me like I’m crazy. “Sandwiches first. Then Elena.” The ‘duh’ is silent.
“Jamie told me you sent Elena some music.”
“Yeah. I never realized she’s so bad that we wouldn’t be able to talk to her straight away. I’ve been sending her unpolished tracks every couple days, hoping it’d help.”
Aware that I’m about to dice with death, I rumble, “You know, even if you don’t talk to me ever again, I’ll still reach out to the Majors about your music.”
Her expression goes into lockdown. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”
“I am?”
“Yes. Or I’d smack you for that one.” Her lips purse. “You think I’m talking to you because of that?”
“No. But … if you decided that I’m a lost cause, you can end this and I’ll still do whatever you need to help your career. I just wanted you to know that, Tee.”
“You underestimate how much I learned about you as Butch.”
“I do?”
“Yes. I was in love with Butch.” Her fingers tighten around the paper bag. “Do you think it’d have hurt so much when you cut ties if I wasn’t?”
Our gazes meet. “I loved T too.”
“Past tense?”
I shake my head.
She purses her lips. “So if Butch and Calamity Jane are in love...”
“One plus one equals two.”
“We’re still fake un-dating.”
“Even though we love each other?”
Something flickers in her eyes. “Even though.” She picks up her sandwich. “Is your bedroom near Callan’s?”
“All the kids’ bedrooms are grouped together.”
She hums.
Five seconds.
God, I hope I hear that hum for the rest of my life.
“Probably a good thing it’s still warm out.”
“You need to do something about the box.”
“Either that or make you forget it’s uncomfortable.”
She grins. Short and sharp. “That too. But I’d still like something to cushion my ass.”
“You can be on top.”
“My knees, then.”
We share a snort and turn to look at the water.
“I expect lake sex.”
“Then we’d better hurry up,” I drawl. “It wasn’t the warmest before.”
“I don’t apologize, by the way.”
I tuck in the paper bag. “I expect no less.”
None of this is going how I figured but... it’s Tee. So why would it?
* ? Saskatchewan Liquor and Gaming Authority