Page 6 of No Broken Promises

Every night before bed, I let Nox tell his father how his day was. What he did and what he wants to happen the next day. I never listen to the conversation, not that I don’t want to hear, but because that is Nox’s time. His only chance to know his father is through other people’s memories and those blackened metal dog tags. The tags I’d scrubbed over and over again, unsuccessfully trying to clean them. The only piece of Danny they’d given back to me, besides the folded flag that sits in a frame on my wall. I don’t need them for myself, but for the son he never got a chance to know.

When I finally get Nox into bed it is well after three in the morning, and I know we won’t be going to sleep. Nor will I be going to work, either. Instead, I stare at the collar, which we immediately hung next to Danny's dog tags, and I cry until there is nothing left.

Just like I did every night for months after…

“Is this ever going to get easier?”

Five years later, and I still know the answer is no.

Never.

3

REMY

Daisy barks in the back seat, not happy about our current situation.

“I can't just leave,” I tell her when she whines impatiently. “I'm sorry, Daisy. We can't just go.”

My K-9 partner does not like being in the back seat of the cruiser. She actually doesn’t like cars at all, or any enclosed spaces. But she is a working dog—the best in Maine—so she puts up with it.

She’s been that way ever since her accident overseas. Even though she's retired from service in the Marine Corps, she isn’t done working, which she lets me know every single morning—loudly.

“It'll just be a little longer, I promise.”

She sticks her snout between the seats and huffs as she sets her nose on my shoulder.

“I know, girl. But it's not just anyone. It's Parker. And Nox. We have to watch out for them. You know how I feel about her. How I’ve always felt.”

Yes, I knew the second I stepped up to the vehicle that it was Parker Hayes in front of me. The same Parker I'd known since kindergarten, when she'd flipped upside down on the monkey bars, not caring in the slightest that she was wearing a dress. Her response at the time had been to kick Linc in the shins when he teased her for wearing underwear with flowers on them.

She had the same long brown hair, although it had been secured on top of her head in a ponytail that had seen better days. And her dark-brown eyes had been red and swollen, sure. None of that matters… she’s still gorgeous. Even more so now that she’s grown into a woman with real curves.

But she isn't my Parker. No matter how much I crave her lips on my skin or the number of nights I dream about her in my arms. Even though it was beyond clear that Boo was dead, I maintained my best professional voice and led her to the emergency vet.

That's how, at midnight, I find myself sitting in the parking lot with my lights off on the cruiser, waiting for Parker and Nox to leave. I will follow them home. Like the stalker creep that I've apparently turned into when it comes to her.

I also make sure that I drive by her place every other day or so. Just to make sure that she isn't in any trouble. Not to make sure she hasn't vanished into thin air. Nope. Not me.

I have a promise to keep, and I'll do it even if I hate every second of it. Even if it drives me crazy and cuts into my chest and tears my heart out over and over again, I’ll do it. I owe Parker that much.

Daisy's ears perk up a moment later, and I watch as the sliding glass doors to the emergency vet open. A very tired-looking Parker walks out, holding Nox by the hand, and Daisy whines again.

She knows Parker and Nox, and no doubt wants to go say hi and sniff them. She loves Nox. Everyone who meets the kid loves him. He is a clone of his father, his uncle, and every other male in his father's family. The Hayes genes run deep.

Speaking of Nox's uncle. I pick up my phone and hit Linc's contact, waiting for the line to connect.

“What?” he barks into the phone on the second ring.

“It's me, asshole.”

I follow Parker out of the parking lot and set my phone in the cradle, using Bluetooth to talk to my best friend.

“I know,” he counters. “That's what caller ID is for. Now why are you calling me in the middle of the night?”

I don’t pull any punches. “Parker’s dog is dead.”

Linc doesn’t say anything, not for a long minute. When he finally does, his voice comes out broken, hoarse. “You sure?”

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