Page 8 of No Broken Promises

I go inside and take off my utility belt and state police uniform for the last time. After a few days of much-needed rest, I'll be starting at the Birch Police Department, where I actually wanted to work when I got out of the Marine Corps. Unfortunately, my father doesn't play favorites and there hadn't been openings for both me and Linc at once, so I got one with the Maine State Police. Three months in, and one of my father's officers quit unexpectedly. That opened the door for me, and I took hold of it with both hands. After all, Birch County runs through my veins.

Daisy goes where I go, and thankfully, she'll be coming along with me to Birch PD.

After I secure my gun and set my phone on the charger, I sit down in the living room with a beer in hand. Just like every night, I stare at the picture on the wall.

Me, Linc, Danny, our sisters, and Parker all stare back at me. We were younger, happier, and ready to take on the world in that photo. Me and the twins were all wearing our dress blues, and the girls were in various stages of dressed up. All except Parker, who looked like she'd just crawled out of bed.

I remember her not even wanting to go, she'd been so afraid for us.

That was the morning after I'd told her to give Danny a chance. The morning after I'd cut my heart out and handed it to her.

After his death, my mom had the photo blown up for me, and I hung it in every room I had. The frame is black and heavy, and I've had more than one commanding officer try to have me remove it from my barracks wall while I was enlisted.

But I kept it up, and eventually they stopped harassing me about it. Either that, or one of the other men in my unit made sure they knew exactly why that picture was hung up.

Every night, I talk to Danny.

Every single night.

“Parker's dog died,” I tell him. Just like I'd told his brother. “Boo. He got hit by a car.”

I take a long swig of the ice-cold beer in my hand and wait for Danny to answer me. He never does.

“I escorted her and Nox to the emergency vet. Man, your son looks just like he was picked out of your ass. I don't know what's in the water for you Hayes boys.”

Again, there is nothing but silence until Daisy plods into the room, shaking off and lying at my feet like she always does. Then she puts her head on her paws and stares at the same picture I do.

“I don't know if I can keep my promise, Danny. Seeing her hurts, man. I see her, and I want to run in the opposite direction. I still love her. But how do I tell her it's my fault? How do I tell her that I couldn't stop you from dying?” I've told Danny a hundred times, maybe even a thousand, since he died that I can't keep my promise.

But still, I wrote letters to Parker that I never sent while I was overseas. I called my parents to check in on her. I called her uncle to check on her. After I returned, I drove by her house to make sure everything was okay.

As much as I wanted to break my promise, I couldn't.

“We miss you, Danny,” I tell him. “I miss you, and it doesn't ever really get any easier. People I love keep dying, and it hurts, man. First you, then Cassie. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Daisy whines at my feet, and I fight to keep my emotions in check.

“Come on, girl.” I rub between her ears. “Let's go to bed. The dead will stay dead for another day.”

I finish my beer and then brush my teeth.

Climbing into bed, I have to shove Daisy off my pillow, which she tries to commandeer every night since I've come home. “Move over, you oaf.”

She groans, if that's what a dog does, before moving about six inches off my pillow and plopping back down.

“Fine,” I tell her. “I'm not sharing my blankets with you.”

The glare she gives me says very clearly that if I don't share my blankets, she'll piss on my floor.

Which she does in the middle of the night when I shove her off the bed.

4

PARKER

There will never be enough coffee in the world to get me through the morning after Boo died. I lie on the couch, eyes on Danny’s dog tags, until the sun creeps into the sky.

“I hate you,” I whisper, unsure of whether or not I am talking to him or myself.

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