Page 47 of Tides That Bind

“You know, having a cop for a dad is sort of like having a superhero for a dad.”

I drop my eyes to my lap.

“Do you know what’s cooler?”

I feel Riley staring. “I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.” I sigh. “What?”

Riley doesn’t tell me until I look up and meet his eyes.

“When your superhero dad’s sidekick is a dog who can surf.”

“Tides can’t surf.”

Tides can do a lot of things. He can open doors. He can sniff out a kilo of cocaine being carted up the California coast taped to the bottom of a garbage truck. But Tidesinthe water at the beach? His name was ironic. The ocean scared him, the crashing waves sent him into an anxious tailspin. He’d bark at people going in, as if he was giving them a warning to stay far, far away.

My stomach drops. Maybe he knew something all along.

“We got him inonetime.”

“You did not.”

“Did too.” Stopping at a light, Riley takes his phone out, swiping at the screen before handing it to me.

My breath hitches when Nate steps into the frame, Tides held across the back of his shoulders. I instinctively want to reach out, to sink my fingers into the strong muscles of his back, to hold onto a memory I never had or was even a part of.

A familiar dull anger slowly washes over me. It’s another moment between Nate and Riley—and Finn, who I realize is filming. It’s another moment that isn’t mine to recall, to cherish, to hold onto so dearly. And now that I know what it’s only like to have memories of Nate, it’s devastating. Mine are limited. But Riley has so many more—the beginning, middle, and end.

The flat water on screen is nothing seasoned surfers would enjoy. But on this day, Nate, Finn, and Riley are there as friends. And friends always find a way to have fun.

Nate gets Tides to hop up on the board like he’s jumping on the couch before he gives the board a heavy push.

“Up, Tides. Up!”

I jump when Tides flings his head to the front seat at the sound of Nate calling his name.

“Atta boy!”

Nate hoots and laughs, cheering when Tides rides the small wave with a wagging tail back to shore.

I’m tempted to replay the video just to hear that laugh again, but instead pass the phone back. “When was this?”

“Last September. You and Caroline went away for that girls' trip.”

People who say you always regret the things you don’t do never lost someone they missed out on so much with.

“We should get going.” Riley taps the clock on the dash. We’re at Lucas's school.

I get out of the car, sliding my seat forward so Tides can hop out. “How do you plan to get a dog in exactly?”

Riley shrugs, pulling his board out. “If they gave me any trouble, I was going to say he’s my service dog.”

“Yourservicedog?”

“Yeah.” He takes Tides’s leash from my hand.

“Why would you have a service dog? I mean—”

“Requiring me to provide proof, and refusing me entry anywhere based on a lack of violates the American Disabilities Act. I’d be well able to seek legal discourse against the school board, and the city.” Riley smirks. “And considering I’m an attorney—”

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