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“Faith!”
Faith paused with her hand on the handle of her door and waited for Michael to catch up. Turk barked happily when Michael arrived, hoping that he could help cheer Faith up. Michael paused to ruffle Turk’s fur reassuringly, then looked up at Faith. “Faith, you know I love you—” he began.
She turned away and opened the car door. With surprising quickness, Michael stood and slammed it shut. “Faith, don’t be stupid.”
“I need a moment, Michael,” she said tersely, hating the tears that continued to fall. “Can I have a goddamned moment? Please?”
“Promise me you won’t be stupid,” he said, keeping his hand on the door. “Promise me you won’t go off on a wild goose chase and get yourself hurt or killed like last time.”
Faith’s eyes snapped to his, but her angry retort died on her lips when she saw the worry in his eyes. Michael had rescued her from the first Donkey Killer when she was moments from death. Back then, she had left on her own, too impatient with procedure to wait for the manhunt to begin properly. Her reward for her impatience was months-long paralysis and an ongoing struggle with depression and PTSD that had nearly cost her career and her relationships. Michael had pulled her from the brink of disaster the first time, but he didn’t want to watch her tempt fate again.
She sighed and released the door handle. “All right,” she said softly. “I won’t do anything stupid. I promise.”
Michael nodded and took his hand off of the door. “If you need anything, call me,” he said. “I’m sorry, Faith.”
She wiped tears from her eyes in short, angry swipes. “He was your friend too, Michael. We’re both sorry.”
“Yeah,” Michael said. “Yeah, we are.”
His face tensed, and he looked past her shoulder into the distance for a moment. He looked back at her and forced a smile. “We’ll be okay.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, “but Gordon won’t.”
His smile faded. “No. No, he won’t.”
They stood in silence for a long moment. In another life, Faith would have thrown herself into his arms, and he would have held her and together they would have wept and mourned and healed.
But that was another life, and in this life, the best they could do was stand in silence a moment and wrestle privately with their demons.
It was Michael who broke the impasse, nodding and laying a hand on Faith’s shoulder. “I’ll see you Monday,” he said.
He squeezed briefly, and for a split second, Faith wanted nothing more than to forget everything and collapse into his arms and weep. Then he pulled his hand away, and the walls came up again.
“See you Monday,” she said, forcing herself to meet his eyes.
He smiled sadly and left. Faith watched him walk away until Turk whined and rubbed his head on her legs. She reached down and ruffled his fur behind his ears, then opened the door and let him inside.
Her mind was a blank as she drove home. She drove mechanically, and when she arrived home, she filled Turk’s water and food bowls mechanically. He left the bowls untouched and followed her, his eyes never leaving her as she microwaved a tv dinner—did they still call them tv dinners?—and sat on her couch.
She turned the tv on to a news channel. A tropical storm in California—the first in over eighty years—had flooded cities and covered highways in mud. A species of dolphin was past the point of no return and would go extinct within ten years. A war overseas was leaving cities in rubble and civilians dead and displaced by the millions.
The world went on.
Turk nudged her legs, and she looked down to see eyes full of a love and trust more pure than that of which any human was capable. She dropped to her knees in front of the couch and wrapped her arms tightly around him. She sobbed once, a hoarse, choking cry, then wept, tears soaking his coat as he stood strong and pressed his head to hers.
CHAPTER TWO
David came to her the moment she got out of the car. She threw her arms around him and burst into tears. She wondered how long she would weep like this.
“I’m so sorry,” he said gently as he rocked her back and forth in his arms. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Faith closed her eyes and breathed in his scent—leather and cinnamon. She squeezed her arms more tightly around him and breathed deeply and slowly. Her tears subsided, but she held him a moment longer before releasing him.
He smiled compassionately at her and brushed a lock of hair from her eyes. “You okay?” he asked.
Faith thought it odd and wonderful how the most foolish questions were the most welcome when asked by someone you loved. She smiled and kissed him softly. “Not even close,” she replied honestly.
He nodded in understanding and kissed her forehead. “Yeah, I don’t blame you,” he said. “Do you want to come inside?”
