Chapter 12
Half asleep, I turn on the coffee machine when Lucas flies into the kitchen, dumping a dozen action figures on the floor.
“What are you doing?” I ask, stepping over Black Panther while Tides pushes Iron Man across the tile with his nose.
Lucas beelines to a lower cabinet. “I need a bag.” His voice is muffled because he practically crawls into the enclosed space. “I’m bringing these to Logan’s house.”
“All of them?”
Falling back on his knees, Lucas begins to pack the toys, stopping to take Ant Man who has slid under the table, from Tides’s mouth after the dog retrieved it. “Yeah. Oh! Mom! And my roller skates. You said I could.”
I did say that after calling the doctor who said he can be a kid as long as he wears wrist guards and a helmet.
“I have to get them from the garage. But you’re only going to be at his house for a few hours. Do you need all this?”
“Of course I do!” Lucas announces, standing. He looks down at the bag he carries that might snap in an instant.
The seriousness of Lucas's tone lets me know I shouldn’t argue, only get him a better bag to put all his belongings in.
“Here.” I take some cereal and pour him a bowl before grabbing the milk. “Eat breakfast. I’ll go get your skates from the garage.”
I cross the backyard still in my pajamas, my robe hanging open. I pull up the sleeve. The skin around my scar itches. I focus on rubbing around it and not the apartment above the garage or Riley’s Jeep parked outside before I open the side door and head to the shelving, opening a few bins before I find the one I’m looking for. When I turn, my eyes land in the corner of the garage on the surfboards—including the one Riley bought for Lucas's birthday.
The sight infuriates me, and I almost drop everything and drag every board out to Riley’s car so he can bring them down to work. He might live in a small apartment, but he certainly has space for this, what I now deem junk , at work.
But I don’t have the time or energy for that now.
With full arms, I go back outside, struggling to shut the door behind me.
“I got it.”
It’s not Riley’s voice that makes me jump. It’s the heat coming off his body from behind me that seems to wrap me up and soothe my fury when he reaches around to pull the door closed. I didn’t want to see him this morning, even though I turn to face him. I don’t want to use a soft voice with him, even though I do.
“Thanks.”
Riley reaches down, picking up a knee pad that I’ve dropped. He turns it in his hands, and it’s now that I notice his splint is gone, the hand that’s been hiding beneath it noticeably thinner and pale. I don’t have the balls to ask him how the doctor visit went.
“Playing hooky at the skate park today?” he asks.
“Lucas has a playdate after school. You don’t have to pick him up. I meant to tell you.” But I’ve been avoiding you at all costs.
“I can get him if you give me the address. ”
I shake my head. “No, it’s okay. His friend’s house is on my way home. I…I meant to tell you yesterday.”
Our eyes meet after I stop speaking, and I wait for a soft, small apology to flow out of Riley’s mauvy lips. Before me, they open and close, like he wants to. But he just nods. “It’s alright. I’ve…got work this afternoon.”
The mention of work makes me think I should bring up moving his surfboards, but I know that will lead to a fight. The air between us is thick, even though it’s a cool morning, packed with all the words we’re tiptoeing around.
Riley reaches to take one of Lucas's skates. “Let me help you.”
I refuse immediately. “I’ve got it.”
“Harper.”
A few steps away, I continue toward the house. I have to dip my chin to keep the helmet from falling off the pile, but my pride won’t let me turn around and accept this help from Riley.
I need something more. Lucas needs something more.
Back in the house, I kick the door shut, finding Lucas, finishing off the left over milk straight from the bowl.
“Brush your teeth and get dressed,” I tell him, plopping the skating gear down on a kitchen table. I nearly trip over Tides who comes to inspect the contents I brought in as I head into the mudroom in search of a tote bag for Lucas to use. Grabbing a canvas bag, I’m shutting the cabinet when the backdoor opens, and in stomps Riley.
We both pause, staring. For a second, I think here comes the apology, or at the very least, an acknowledgment that he was being an asshole.
But all Riley does is hold out one of Lucas's wrist guards I seemed to have dropped and toss it at me.
Much to Lucas's dismay, I’ve dropped him off at school in my pajamas so I run home to change and pack some lunch before I head to the studio. I’m relieved to find the driveway empty because at least I know for a minute I won’t have to see Riley.
I’m upstairs in my room, snapping my sports bra in place when Tides, resting on the dog bed he never sleeps on anymore, lifts his head and charges out of the room. By the time he’s downstairs, the doorbell rings.
I pad down the stairs, peeking through the curtain draped over one window flanking the front door.
I immediately shut it.
The last time Silas showed up at my door unannounced, he was with the police Chaplain. His voice from that night echoes in my mind.
“There’s been an accident.”
They hadn’t even recovered Nate’s body by that point.
Silas knocks. “Harper?”
I try to hold my racing breath so I can listen for more movement, for another voice.
Nate’s already dead, I remind myself. You were just at the school. This is a courtesy visit—a casserole visit.
“Harper? Can you open the door, please?”
I don’t want to, just like I didn’t want to that night.
Tides rubs against my leg and under normal circumstances I’d be annoyed that I have to use the lint brush on the leggings I just put on, but right now, I’m grateful.
“Harper?”
Stop being ridiculous, I tell myself, trying to ignore the pit in my stomach the way I ignored Silas’s calls. He’s doing what Nate would do if the situations were reversed. It’s a part of a code of duty.
I open the door. The sight of the familiar uniform stings and I wonder if it’ll ever stop.
Silas bends down, rubbing Tides. “I’ve been trying to call you. ”
“I’m sorry…I’ve been so busy with Lucas and work and…” I stop myself because I don’t want to explain that it’s just too hard to see Silas, or any of Nate’s former colleagues. “You actually caught me on my way out though. I’ve got a class soon. Do you want to pass by this weekend?”
Silas rises, brushing the dog hair from his hands. He peeks over his shoulder and I rise on my toes to get a better look.
A second squad car pulls up behind Silas’s. The engine remains running but no one gets out.
My stomach knots. “What’s going on?”
“Harper.” Silas takes a deep breath and his obvious unease does nothing to quell my anxiety. “I’ve been calling because we need to take Tides.”
Immediately I push Tides back and step in front of him. “What?”
Silas tries to hand me the letter and I slap it down.
“Dogs retire with their owner,” I remind him of the procedure. “They go to the family when a handler—”
“They go to the family of the handler when there’s only ever been one handler,” Silas says.
“That was years ago for five weeks because Nate had surgery,” I push out. “And it’s been over two months. Why are you doing this now?”
Silas shakes his head. “I’ve been calling for two weeks, Harper. You were sent an official letters about surrendering him. Legally, Tides is property of the town.”
“The hell he is,” I grit out.
“Harper.” Silas sighs. “We’re talking about a dog.”
Tides isn’t just a dog . As far as I’m concerned, after risking his life to save Lucas, I don’t care that he has four legs and sheds so much I have to vacuum him and not just the floor daily. Tides is part of this family. He belongs in this house.
I reach to slam the door in Silas’s face when he holds the envelope out. “This is a copy of the notice the sheriff’s office sent. It required you to surrender Tides back to the K9 department as of yesterday.”
I glare at the letter, realizing now what those unopened envelopes I found after Caroline had left contain—the only way to shatter what’s left of my family even more than it already is.
“And if I don’t?” Swallowing, I peek again at the other cruiser.
“You have a son, Harper. He already lost his dad. I won’t be able to process your booking fast enough to get you arraigned and out on bail before Lucas comes home from school.” Silas dips his head, looking me straight in the eye. “He’s a dog.”
“It’s amazing you’ve been coming around for years and don’t know my kid at all. Lucas would be more heartbroken to find Tides gone than me.”
Silas presses a hand to the door frame. “Tides is no longer able to stay in your custody. You don’t have to make this difficult.”
I lose my balance when Tides nudges his head between my legs, pushing them open when the other officer steps out of the car, shutting the door. The tenseness in his body matches my own.
“Silas, please don’t do this,” I whisper, wondering what I have to do, what I have to say, how long I need to play the widow card. But I know from the hard line his lips disappear into that I can play a more powerful, hurtful card.
“Nate would never forgive you.”
Silas’s eyes meet mine. My words don’t spark any emotion in them. Instead, they remain cold and disengaged. “Your husband lived a life dedicated to service. He knows what it means to finish your duty. Please stop making this difficult.”
I look down at Tides, at his rigid stance. My mind begins to spin and before I have the chance to process anything, Silas whistles. There’s minor hesitation of Tides below me, but he does step forward through my legs.
“I can see if his new handler would be willing to bring him by after he’s adjusted to his new home so Lucas can see him every now and then.”
Silas’s words make me cringe and I have to press my hand to the doorway to steady myself as I force myself to blink, to clear this image—this nightmare—from my sight. Because it can’t be possible that, for a second time, Silas has come to my home to be the bearer of bad news. It can’t be possible I’m standing here once again wondering how I’m going to have to explain to my son that he’s lost another one of his real life superheroes in the blink of an eye.
“W-wait!” I shout, but the other officer has returned to his car, and Silas has already put Tides in the back of his cruiser.
By the time I make it to the curb, Silas has shut his door. I slam my hand on the window. “You can’t do this to Lucas!”
I stumble when Silas pulls away from the curb, a screech coming from my fingers sliding against the glass. But I don’t go back into the house or collapse on the front steps. I don’t sit and cry. I refuse to accept that another piece of my family is being taken away in the cruelest twist of fate.
I run barefoot in the middle of the street, the pavement ripping my heels but the pain doesn’t slow my pace. It only makes me yell louder until my voice is just as raw as the skin of my feet. And still, that stinging is nothing compared to what I know is coming once again for us.
Because nothing could trump the agony that comes when you break your child’s heart by telling them of a final goodbye they never got to hear.