Probably the fiftieth one that one of us has filed with the police in our lives. I’ve stopped worrying. I used to. But this cycle became too painful and too damaging, so I cut out my ability to care. I just…stopped one day. I can’t worry about them, about what they’re doing, wondering if they’re still breathing. I wait each day for the final phone call. The one telling me the waitingis over. They’re gone now. Permanently. But I don’t worry anymore. I just wait.
It’s easier for me. I’m far away, in another country. I can cut the worry off way easier than my brother can. Miller was able to do that when he was ten. Unfortunately, Kane is the best of the Black children. He is on the front lines. He always cared the most, anyway.
Four weeks with no word or sighting of dear old Mom and Dad.
The only thing more heartbreaking than seeing your loved ones in the throes of addiction is suddenly not seeing them at all. Then, you have to wonder. Then, you spend every second scrutinizing every face on the street, seeing them in each and every one for a brief moment. You slam on the brakes when you see someone with the same walk, the same bump in their nose, when you see a side profile that looks slightly like theirs. You can’t breathe until you confirm they’re okay again. Life seems to pause for you, but the world keeps spinning.
I’m sympathetic toward Kane, because someone has to be. Miller has long since stopped considering himself a member of the Black family at all. Kane has Remi, his wife, and he has his kids, but nobody who gets it like I do. Nobody who actuallyknowsthe people he’s looking for. Deeply. Personally.
Kane
Just did. Will keep you posted.
He will. He’ll drive me crazy about it. He’ll text non-stop until he finds them and then I won’t hear from him for months, until they do this again. I’m not sure why he thinks I want to be involved in this. I don’t. I do it for him because I think he needs me to be there for him when shit gets this bad. I don’t want this tie to my family. Again, I cut that string of emotion off yearsago. He and his wife could never tell me anything else about our parents, and I’d be happy with that.
But since it gets Kane to talk to me, I let it continue. I might not worry about my parents anymore, but I will always worry about him. He’s my little brother. The only one I have left.
I send a thumbs up in response. He texts again almost instantly.
Kane
I’ll call the morgue in the morning.
CHAPTER THREE
boston
“You know,my life was much more peaceful when you’d run back to California during the off-season.”
Forker, who is sitting at my dining room table, beams up at me like that was a compliment. He brings the cup of espresso I just made him to his lips, leaning back in his chair to cross his ankle over his knee. He’s lounging in my kitchen like he owns it.
“Peaceful is boring, Boston,” he says, resting his arm around the back of his chair. “You can thank Arden for this magnificent change in your life. I refuse to leave her for an entire summer and she can’t get the time off work.”
I’m not complaining, even though I pretend like I am. Having Fork in town is an asset for me. It means we can practice together throughout the summer months, which will only strengthen our on-ice dynamic. The Dangeous Duo is already a force to be reckoned with, but a whole summer dedicated to our game will make us unstoppable.
“I’ll write her a card,” I mumble, dropping into the seat across from him with my own cup. I meet those stupid blue eyes that always spell trouble. “I’ll also ask her to remind you of yourmanners. Maybe then, you’ll stop walking into people’s houses at the ass crack of dawn without knocking.”
Forker’s grin turns blinding. “I knew you’d be awake.”
I give him a stern look. “And the not knocking part?”
“Keeping you on your toes.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. There’s no changing Carter Forkerro. “Are you here to kidnap Wanton for a few days?”
He has the gall to look offended, but after a second, he gives up his performance and nods. “Red has a couple of days off. Work has been rough. I figured a Wanton sleepover is what the doctor ordered.”
Wanton is the dog I adopted last season for Forker’s girlfriend, but he lives with me. I know, it's confusing. He was a troubled little guy who spent way too long in the animal shelter, and after one look at him, I knew he was coming home with me. It took about one month for him to turn into a completely different dog. He’s now my token goon, just like Forker is. He runs around the farm creating chaos and destruction with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.
He’s a happy little shit stirrer.
It also turns out that he loves men once he trusts them. Not as much as women, but he wasn’t the lost cause that they painted him out to be. Carter and Arden steal him about once a month, and I’m okay with it. It was a part of the original deal, and I think the other dogs enjoy the break from his personal brand of crazy, too. Beneficial for everyone involved.
“Yeah, of course. He’d love that. But…youdoknow we have plans on Saturday, right?” I ask, studying his face.
He narrows his eyes. “I’m not stupid. God, you fuck uponetime?—”
“What are you going to do with him?” Because he’s not taking my dog unless he’s figured out how to work around his plans while he has him. Wanton regresses in kennels. He isn’t gettingshoved back into one, and if they haven’t tried him alone in their condo—Saturday isn’t the day to start testing him.
