Page 5 of No Broken Promises

Nox cries even harder, and I nod over his head at the woman who is just doing her job. It isn’t her fault that our puppy just died.

“Let's go home, Nox.”

He shakes his head against my chest. I swear, whatever I thought had died inside hadn't really died. Not until that very second. Not until everything in my child refused to leave his dead friend.

“I have to say goodbye,” he says with the maturity of a child much older than his five years. “I have to.”

His voice takes on a determined edge that I haven’t heard before. I can’t stop him from saying goodbye, not when it means that he will get to see Boo one more time.

Pam smiles gently down at my son. “Come on, Nox.” She holds out her hand and waits for Nox to look at her. “I'll take you to him. And you can take as long as you want to say goodbye. Do you want to come with us, Mrs. Hayes?”

No. I absolutely do not want to. But I'll do it anyway. Nox needs me, and I have to do it. I have to give my son that.

I get up and Nox comes with me, reaching not only for my hand, but for Pam's as well. That's how we walk down the pristine halls of the animal hospital. Two women, holding the hands of a boy who sniffles and tries to hide his anguish. And if we pretend not to hear his quiet sounds, that’s perfectly fine.

Boo is on an examination table, no longer wrapped in the blanket I'd grabbed from the back of the couch. Instead, he’s lying there like he’s asleep. If he weren't covered in blood, sticking to his long black coat, I'd expect him to open one eye at me and roll onto his back for belly rubs at any second. Only Boo isn’t going to roll over for me ever again.

Inadvertently, I squeeze Nox’s hand, and then he lets go, dropping my hand.

The first step he takes toward Boo breaks Pam, too. She sniffles next to me as Nox takes step after step across the room. Five steps. Five excruciating steps, then he stands next to Boo, his back to me. His blond hair tousled and unkempt, Nox presses his face to Boo's, and there’s nothing to be done for me or for Pam at that point. She cries with me, and we both watch as Nox whispers something unintelligible to Boo before he turns back to me with red-rimmed eyes.

“Boo says that he wants to be buried with Daddy.”

I blow out a deep breath, wondering if my life will ever get any easier. When? I scream out in my mind, feeling utterly defeated, tears burning my eyes and falling unchecked to the floor. I wipe them on the back of my sleeve, not caring about the way I look.

“We can do that, when we get him back from the vet.” I glance at Pam, who is busy wiping her own tears, too. “As soon as we get him back, we'll go bury him with Daddy.”

The door behind us opens, and Dr. Smith comes in with a beleaguered sigh.

“Pam, can you let them know that it'll be about a week? Oh, Parker. I didn't realize P. Hayes was you.”

Wrenly Smith, one of my friends from high school, looks at me with a sad expression on her face.

“Yeah,” I tell her with a sniffle. “Thanks, Wrenly. For helping with Boo.”

“Oh, no.” Her eyes dart to the table, and then to Nox, before settling back on me. “This isn't the dog that Danny?—”

I cut her off with a nod. “Yeah.” I’m starting to sound like a broken record.

“I'm so sorry, Parker.” Wrenly clutches the clipboard in front of her like a lifeline for a drowning woman. “I'm so sorry. I'll get Boo back to you as soon as possible.”

Somehow I manage to nod, and that’s it before I have to go.

Catching up with an old friend over the lifeless body of my dog isn’t how I wanted to spend my night. Not in the slightest.

“Can I have his collar?” Nox's question throws me off guard. I look not at Wrenly, but at Pam, who'd fast earned every ounce of respect that I have left.

“Yes, sweetie,” she answers quietly. “Let me get that washed off for you. Why don't you go with your mom out to the waiting room and I'll bring it right out.”

“Make sure it's his,” Nox orders her suddenly. “It's important that I have his, so I can hang it with my Daddy's dog tags.”

Fuck.

My son is the only person in the entire world who can gut me with one sentence. Hell, the kid can do it with a single word. But him wanting to hang Boo's collar with Danny's dog tags on our living room wall is something I hadn't even thought of.

“You know,” I say when we’re sitting back in the waiting room doing just that… waiting for Boo's collar. “You're the smartest kid I've ever met in my entire life. Boo will be able to watch over us, with his collar right there.”

Nox nods solemnly. “Just like Daddy does. And we can say good night to him just like we do for Daddy too.”

---