Page 37 of Tides That Bind

When her eyes meet mine, they swirl with tears. The sight makes me squirm uncomfortably. But I’m still confused, looking at the wound. Was she mugged and slashed with a knife?

“Who did this to you?”

Harper’s eyes widen. “Who?”

I cringe as much as Harper does when she removes the gauze pad, the sight of torn flesh too much. I can’t fist both hands, so my right, cast-free hand takes all the punishment and my short fingernails dig into my palm from the force.

“A dog, Riley. I got bit at the dog park.” Harper’s eyes trail from my balled-up hands to my twisted face. “Will you relax?”

“No.”

Harper sighs. “What are you going to do? Go after an animal?”

“I wouldn’t have mercy on a bumble bee that stung you.”

Harper flinches, as if my words have struck her with surprise. If I’m being honest, they surprise me too. But the shock is followed by streaks of shame. Because what if she got hurt when she was supposed to be under my watch? Nate would come back from the dead and beat my ass.

Harper takes a deep breath. “I got to Lucas, and then that dog lunged again at Tides and—”

“And what? You put yourself between two fighting dogs? You can’t possibly be that stupid, Harper.”

Harper straightens in bed. “Tides saved Lucas.”

“Yeah, well it would be a lot harder for him to saveyouwhen a Pit Bull has your arm between his jaws.”

“It wasn’t a Pit Bull,” Harper rebuts, as if that makes a difference.

I roll my eyes. “I don’t care if it was a fucking Poodle. You can’t be that stupid again. What if something happened to you?” My voice raises, on the verge of lecturing. I want to scream at Harper, shake her, even if she’s injured. “Your kid has already lost half of the most important people in his life.”

Instantly, I regret my words because Harper cowers. I’ve kicked her while she’s down, slapped her with a painful reminder she definitely doesn’t need.

“Not quite half.”

Hesitantly, I raise my head, finding Harper staring. I want to look away from her glossy, honey-brown eyes because I don’t know what to say. Guilt, it chokes the words right out of me. I’ve got nothing and I’mdoingnothing. I’ve done nothing but turn my back on two people my best friend trusted me to look after. The only thing I’ve done is abandon them.

And here Harper is, still looking at me like she’s grateful I came. But there’s more, and it’s worse. I swear, behind the tearyeyes, there’s something else floating there—hope. Hope that I’ll stay.

I clear my throat. “Harper, about the other day—”

“Riley!” Lucas's gasping of my name relieves me, momentarily, of many things—of Harper, of the heartache, the worry, and shame.

The same nurse pushes him in a wheelchair through the curtain. His small left arm is splinted, and he holds a red lollipop with the other. I stand immediately, my instinct is to run my hands from his head to his feet, looking for other bumps and bruises, to soothe the pain I can’t see.

“Hey, kid. Ouch. That hurt?”

I’m looking at Lucas's face, which is splotchy, clearly from crying, but otherwise he seems particularly distracted by the lollipop. “Yeah but you should see the other guy.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “Thedog?”

“No,” Lucas hums before his mouth melts into a cheeky smirk. “Mom.” He points over my shoulder, and I can’t help but look over at Harper and laugh.

“Very funny,” she mumbles, shifting and leaning against the raised bed.

A doctor appears. “No fracture, just a bad sprain.” He ruffles Lucas's hair. “You’re a lucky little guy. We’re going to just redo this splint, and you’ll be good to go with some Advil, ice, and no climbing trees. Mom and Dad—”

“I’m not his dad,” I clarify.

The doctor peers at me.

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