Chapter Ten #2
“Deefer,” a voice said, easy. “Where are your manners? Leave the man alone. He is not Dev, and he does not have any treats or sugar cubes for a good boy like you.”
Aiden George stepped out of the night with a leash loose in one hand and a cap pulled down. Hoodie, running shoes, posture relaxed enough to be a choice.
“If I’d known you were here, Deefer, I would have definitely snuck a sugar cube or three in my pocket,” Oren said with a grin. “Morning.”
“Technically,” Aiden said. “And that dog needs no more treats. Damn Dev is already spoiling him rotten.” His tone said he was more than okay with that. “You going out casual or trying to outrun whatever’s chewing on you?”
Oren huffed, not a laugh. “A bit of both, just thirty minutes. Then I call Marsh for a fence walk.”
“Mind company?” Aiden asked. Deefer pranced excitedly, obviously ready to be on the move, tail moving nonstop.
Oren shook his head and moved. Aiden fell in beside him without pushing pace or conversation. Deefer ranged ahead a few yards, quartering the road, nose working. The sound of his shoes on gravel was weirdly comforting—purpose written in soft percussion.
They ran the north bend in silence.
Aiden spoke first. “Heard last night didn’t go great.”
“From who?”
“Bateman,” Aiden said. “Said the room ran hot.”
Oren let the corner of his mouth move. “So, they brought you in to talk to me?”
“I brought me,” Aiden said. “Dog needed a run. And I know the look of a man who’s going to pick up the whole barbell just to prove he can.”
They cut onto the service track that paralleled the fence. Deefer hit a spot by a post and sneezed, then moved on with disdain. Not interesting.
Aiden kept pace. “I’m not here as an ex-military officer or a bomb tech,” he said. “I’m here as a member of a triad who spent a lot of time trying to be the hinge. Not the point man. Not the hammer. The piece that lets the door open and close without tearing itself off.”
Oren ran another thirty yards and let that land. “How’s that working for you?”
“Harder than it should be. Worth it anyway.” Aiden glanced at him. “You’re not the alpha in yours. You know that. But you carry everything like you are. That’s a gift until it isn’t.”
“I wasn’t holding out on them,” Oren said. The words came out quicker than he liked. “I just needed enough time to get my head around it, so I didn’t hand them a ghost and not have a solution of how to deal with it.”
“I get it,” Aiden said. “I also know shadows grow in the space where nobody says the thing out loud. Smoke, too. You give shadows time and they start drawing their own conclusions.”
Oren slowed to a standstill, and felt his jaw go tight, then made it relax. “I didn’t want to make it real.”
“Real doesn’t wait for permission.” Aiden’s tone stayed steady. “Here’s what I learned the stupid way—clear beats clever. ‘I saw him. He had a gun. His eyes were wrong.’ That’s clean. That tells your men what to do. You can think about the why while you’re walking the fence together.”
Deefer doubled back and bumped Oren’s knee with his nose like a nudge. Oren’s hand found the dog’s head on instinct. Warm, solid, a little damp, absolutely present. Deefer approved and moved off to investigate a weed with serious personal investment.
Aiden smiled without taking his eyes off the road. “He likes you. He’s not picky, but he’s not wrong much, either.”
“I didn’t do it to hurt them,” Oren said. The words felt like gravel. “I just—needed a minute.”
“Take the minute,” Aiden said. “But maybe don’t take it alone. That’s the trick piece. You don’t always have to be your own sounding board. You let the other two stand next to you and look at the same thing. You’ll still get your minute. It’ll just do more good.”
They reached the south run and slowed to a walk. Oren put a hand on the fence and felt the cool in the metal. Find the door. Close it.
Aiden nodded as if he had heard the thought. “You’ll find where he’s been. You’ll fix it. You’ll also fix last night. Start by saying it out loud. No speeches. Just the parts that matter.”
“Dale’s going to want to fight me about timing,” Oren said.
“He’s allowed to want whatever he wants,” Aiden said.
“You’re allowed to say, ‘copy that,’ and then give him what he needs.
Ty needs the truth fast so his brain can stop inventing threats to fill the quiet.
Dale needs to know where to stand. And you need to stop trying to be all three of you at once. ”
Oren breathed that in and felt it settle. Not comfortable. Useful. “Copy that,” he said.
“Good,” Aiden said. “Now, say it to them.”
They turned back toward the barracks. The first thin hint of morning pushed at the tree line.
Deefer caught a moth and let it go like the gentleman he was.
Oren, who did not get attached to dogs because he knew he couldn’t give them the home and life they deserved, mentally filed chocolate lab under future mistakes he’d like to make.
“You sticking around?” Oren asked.
“For a bit,” Aiden said. “We came up to help if you want it. We’ll back off if you don’t.” He looked over, measuring without making it feel like a test. “I’m thinking you guys are in it for the long haul for what it’s worth.”
“We most definitely are,” Oren said. “Thanks.”
“Anytime,” Aiden said. “Call Marsh. Walk the fence. Then go find your two and get the balance between you right.” He tipped his chin at Deefer. “We’ll do another lap while you shower. Try not to steal my dog before we leave.”
“No promises,” Oren said, and got half a smile for it.
By the time they reached the barracks door, Oren’s head had stopped buzzing. The problems hadn’t changed. He had, a little. He pulled his phone out and queued Marsh’s number. Fence first. Then Ty. Then Dale. All three in the daylight.
He scratched Deefer behind the ear because he hadn’t earned a dog yet, but he could admire one. Deefer closed his eyes like a saint. Aiden shook his head like he knew exactly what was happening.
“You’re so going to get a dog,” Aiden said.
“Probably,” Oren answered, then stepped inside to make the call.