Chapter 3
Ethan
The soft glow of dawn filtered through the blinds, casting faint golden streaks across Ethan’s childhood bedroom ceiling. He stretched, muscles protesting from the previous day's work, and exhaled slowly. The familiar scent of the house, the faint wood musk, the ocean air from the cracked window, and the ever-present—wrapped around him like an old friend.
He turned his head toward the corner of the room, where Ranger lay curled in his kennel, nose tucked beneath one massive paw. The Belgian Malinois twitched slightly, his ears flicking at the distant sound of morning birds. Even off-duty, his body was primed for action, constantly aware, always ready.
"Still on the clock, buddy?" Ethan murmured, pushing himself upright.
Ranger let out a heavy sigh, shifting but not opening his eyes.
Ethan smirked. “Slacker.”
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the cool hardwood sending a slight jolt up his bare feet. He ran a hand through his hair, stretching again before standing. His room was small but full of history, his history.
The glow-in-the-dark stars that formed a constellation still clung to the ceiling from when he was twelve, faded now but not forgotten. The walls bore remnants of his teenage years—framed medals from high school wrestling, a few military certificates from his time in the Air Force, his guitar, and a modest shelf filled with books on poetry, law enforcement, and, oddly enough, a few well-worn superhero comics.
A small desk sat beneath the window, cluttered with paperwork from side jobs and a few scattered bills. Money was tight. Too tight. But worrying wouldn’t make it stretch further.
Ethan grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the dresser, tugging them on before padding barefoot across the room. As soon as he unlatched the kennel, Ranger was up, stretching long and shaking out his fur before nudging Ethan’s thigh with his nose.
"Morning to you, too," Ethan chuckled, rubbing the dog's head. "You ready to hit the gym?"
Ranger huffed, already trotting toward the hallway.
Ethan grabbed a T-shirt and followed, stepping softly past his parent's bedroom. His dad’s light snoring drifted through the door, steady and deep. Good , Ethan thought. He hardly slept these days with the pain in his back.
The garage was cool in the early morning air, the scent of metal and sawdust lingering from unfinished projects. Ethan flicked on the light, illuminating his workout haven. The space was a careful blend of work and training—on one side, his father’s tools and equipment, on the other, his modest gym setup.
A weight bench sat against the wall. Kettlebells neatly lined up beside it. A pull-up bar was bolted into the ceiling beams, and a sandbag hung from a corner, worn from hours of training. A manual treadmill—the kind that only moved when you did—stood near the workbench.
Ethan cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders. Ranger settled near the entrance, watching, waiting.
“You could at least pretend to work out with me,” Ethan muttered, starting his stretches.
Ranger yawned dramatically.
Ethan shook his head. “Yeah, yeah. We can’t all be naturally athletic.”
The steady rhythm of his workout soon filled the garage—pushups, pull-ups, circuits that burned through his muscles in the best way possible. As he worked, his thoughts wandered. Last night’s shift. The bills that are due. That guy that he pulled over—Mark Jensen. He looked like he’d been crying before Ethan even approached him.
Something about the encounter stuck with him, but he shook it off, focusing on his next set.
Halfway through his routine, the scent of breakfast drifted in—eggs, turkey bacon, and something faintly sweet.
“Smells like Mom’s up,” Ethan murmured, grabbing a towel. He wiped the sweat from his brow, looking down at Ranger. “Go check on her.”
Ranger didn’t hesitate, bolting out of the garage like he’d been waiting for permission. Ethan smirked, following at a slower pace.
The kitchen was warm and inviting, sunlight spilling through the wide window above the sink. His mother stood at the stove, delicate but determined, flipping eggs with practiced ease. Her robe hung loosely over her frail frame, her hair covered with a soft headscarf.
Ranger was at her side instantly, sitting like a sentry, eyes trained on her every movement.
“Morning, sweetheart,” she greeted, her voice full of warmth.
“Morning, Ma,” Ethan said, stepping forward and kissing her cheek. “You shouldn’t be cooking.”
She waved him off with a small laugh. “You always say that, and breakfast still appears every morning.”
Ethan crossed his arms, eyeing her carefully. She looked too pale today, the dark circles beneath her eyes a little more pronounced. But she was smiling.
“You hungry?” she asked.
Ethan hesitated. “Are you ?”
She sighed, setting down the spatula. “A little. I’ll eat, don’t worry.”
That wasn’t exactly convincing, but he didn’t push. Instead, he turned toward the dining table, where his father was already seated, a cup of coffee in hand.
“Morning, Dad.”
His father glanced up, offering a small smile. “Morning, son.”
The table was small but sturdy, the same one they’d had for years. His mother had refinished it last summer, adding a protective layer over the already-worn wood. The chairs were mismatched—some newer, some older—but they fit. This house wasn’t perfect, but it was home .
As Ethan sat, his dad cleared his throat. “Listen, son… I, uh—I just wanted to say thank you.”
Ethan frowned. “For what?”
His dad’s fingers tightened slightly around his coffee mug. “For stepping up. For helping us. I know you have your own life to live, and it’s not fair that—”
“Dad.” Ethan cut him off, shaking his head. “Stop. I’m not forced to do anything. I love you both. It’s my turn to take care of you .”
His father’s jaw tensed, his eyes briefly dropping to the table. “It should be me taking care of this family.”
Ethan softened, reaching over to squeeze his dad’s shoulder. “You do . Every damn day.”
A quiet beat passed between them. His mother set his plate down, smiling as she sat.
Ranger, as always, stayed at her feet, his body pressed protectively against her chair.
Ethan watched as his mother reached down absentmindedly, scratching behind Ranger’s ear. The dog sighed, content, completely devoted.
Ethan smiled. Ranger was his partner. But when they were home, he was his mother’s protector.
The conversation shifted, his dad grumbling about one of the mechanics at the shop denting a customer’s car. Ethan was grateful for the normalcy because his mother teased him about it.
Ethan leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out slightly as he finished the last of his eggs. Ranger had finally settled at his mother’s feet, head resting lazily against her ankle, but his eyes remained sharp, always watching. Ethan smirked slightly at the sight—off-duty or not, Ranger took his self-appointed role as guardian of the house very seriously.
He took a final sip of coffee before setting his mug down. “Hey, I’m working late the next few nights, so don’t wait for me for dinner.”
His mom, already gathering plates, barely glanced up. “It’ll be in the microwave for when you get home.”
“Mom,” he sighed, shaking his head. “You don’t have to do that.”
She waved him off. “Of course I do. You work all day and still come home exhausted. The least I can do is make sure you eat healthy.”
Ethan rubbed the back of his neck. “You need to rest, not worry about feeding me.”
She looked knowingly at him as she carried the dishes to the sink. “And you need to stop acting like caring for the people you love is a burden.”
He sighed, defeated. “Fine. But at least don’t go out of your way —”
“I always go out of my way for my boys,” she interrupted, smirking slightly as she started washing dishes.
His dad chuckled from across the table, shaking his head. “You should know better by now, son. Arguing with her is a lost cause.”
Ethan grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, but his lips twitched with amusement.
His mom turned back toward him. “Speaking of, I have a doctor’s appointment this Thursday. Do you still insist on taking me?”
Ethan’s head snapped up. “Yeah, of course. Just tell me what time so I can clear it with my Sergeant.”
Her eyes softened. “I don’t want you rearranging everything just to take me.”
“Mom.” Ethan’s voice was firm but gentle. “You know I have to be there.”
She sighed, but he saw the warmth in her expression. “Fine. I’ll call and double-check the time today.”
He nodded, already mentally noting the scheduled shift.
His dad set his coffee down, rubbing his hands together. “Who do you have to clear that with? Still answering to Sergeant Moore?”
Ethan nodded. “Yeah, he oversees patrol. I check in with him and the lieutenant for scheduling.”
His father exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Moore’s a good guy. I ran into him at the grocery store last month—said you’re one of his best rookies they have trained in years.”
Ethan scoffed. “Well, of course, he did. I’m amazing.”
His mom rolled her eyes, tossing a dish towel at him. “You sound like your father.”
“Damn right, he does,” his dad muttered, smirking.
Ethan chuckled, pushing himself up from the table. “Alright, I gotta get moving.”
He ruffled Ranger’s ears as he walked past. The dog lifted his head, watching as Ethan stretched. “Don’t let Mom overdo it, alright?”
Ranger exhaled deeply, almost as if accepting his mission , then rested his head against her foot.
Ethan smirked. “Good boy.”
He climbed the stairs two at a time, his legs still loose from the morning workout, and pushed open the door to his childhood room.
The space was an odd mix of past and present.
The twin bed against the far wall was still covered in the same deep blue comforter he’d had since high school. His old wrestling trophies lined a shelf near the window, along with a few framed military certificates. A duffel bag sat near the closet, half-packed with extra uniforms, and his desk was cluttered with paperwork from the station, some from side jobs he picked up when the bills ran a little too high.
He exhaled and pulled off his shirt, stretching his arms overhead before grabbing a towel from the chair. He had earned his body—broad shoulders, a strong chest, and muscular but lean from years of training. His arms were cut with the kind of definition that came from real work, not just gym time. The tattoo on his left shoulder—the United States Air Force insignia—stood out against his tan skin, a reminder of a different chapter of his life.
Ranger returned to his room and followed him toward the bathroom, stretching as he did. Ethan pointed at the dog. “Stay out here. There’s no need to judge me while I shower.”
Ranger tilted his head, unimpressed. Pushing his way in.
Ethan sighed dramatically. “Fine. One day, I’ll have privacy again.”
The shower was quick—hot water, steam curling through the air as he let the heat work out the last of his morning stiffness.
When he stepped out, he wiped the mirror, briefly studying himself. His blonde hair, always slightly messy, was still damp, but there was no time to fix it. His jawline was sharp with a clean-cut beard, his face still youthful despite the stress he carried. He looked capable, reliable.
But in the moments when no one was watching… he looked tired.
He pushed the thought away and dressed methodically—his uniform crisp and fitted perfectly to his frame. He tucked in his shirt, adjusted his belt, clipped on his badge, and holstered his duty weapon. Every movement was muscle memory now.
Now sitting near the door, Ranger huffed as Ethan fastened his boots.
“I know , I know. I look good,” Ethan said, smirking. “No need to be jealous.”
Ranger thumped his tail once.
Ethan grabbed his utility belt, making sure everything was in place. Then he glanced at his keys, which were sitting on the dresser.
Brookings was small enough that not all officers took their patrol cars home. Ethan was one of the exceptions. Having Ranger meant he needed quick access, so his unit was parked outside in case of emergency search and rescue calls.
“Alright, buddy,” he said, slapping his thigh. “Time to get to work.”
Ranger shot up immediately, switching from relaxed to alert in seconds. Ethan could almost see the shift in the dog’s mind—from off-duty companion to working K9.
As they headed down the stairs, Ethan heard his mom humming in the kitchen. His dad’s voice rumbled low as they spoke about something mundane. Normal.
Ethan paused for a second, just taking it in.
He knew things weren’t easy right now, with the bills, his mom’s treatment, and his dad’s frustration over not being able to work like he used to.
But despite it all, they were still a family.
He smiled slightly. And that?
That made all of it worth it.