Page 9 of Tides That Bind

So why did I take the Bar? To tell my father, who might thinkI’m a good for nothing asshole even somewhere beyond the grave,go to hell.

I lift my head from the monitor when a familiar bark echoes from outside. I can picture the four feet running back and forth along the crashing surf, kicking up sand. The noise repeats, now punctuated by short whines. I shake my head and chuckle. Tides is always nervous at the beach.

Leaving my desk, I tug the wayfarers from my head, shielding my eyes from the sun when I get outside.

“Want one?” Nate finishes half a donut in one bite.

My fingers sink into the still-warm, donut and my mouth waters at the crispy Fruity Pebbles on top. “I thought only cops on sitcoms took donut breaks.”

Nate chuckles. “Art imitates life sometimes. Don’t tell Harper though. She’s after me about my cholesterol.”

“I’m sure that’s my fault.”

Shaking his head, Nate rolls his eyes.

Even when there isn’t a problem, Harper will find one and blame me for it. It’s amazing she doesn’t have a constant tension headache considering how hard she searches for tits on an ant when it comes to me. But I was here first. She’s the one who married my best friend.

“Better tamper with the evidence then, officer,” I tell Nate, giving his chest a pat to wipe crumbs from his uniform.

Nate leans against the railing, his focus on the crashing waves but his voice still directed at me.

“Any news yet?”

I feel more relaxed when Nate opens the subject instead of Caroline, and maybe that’s because I never planned to tell her I took the Bar again at all. She only found it because I used her address, thinking I could intercept the mail there easier than at Harper and Nate’s considering how much Caroline travels.

That didn’t work in my favor.

But Nate? At this point, after what feels like years of helping me study, he might be better equipped to sit for the Bar than me.

I shake my head.

“Third time is the charm. Bet on it. You passed.”

Nate might be trying to convince himself more than me. I don’t know if he has it in him to help me studyagain. But who am I kidding? If I fail again, Nate will be knocking on my door at eight-thirty, armed with a thermos of coffee and bags of chips and candy, ready to sneak into the university library. He’ll read aloud from study guides until his voice is raw.

Like my sister, Nate knows my neurodivergent ass reads better through a sense other than sight.

He looks at his watch. “Go check.”

I groan.

“Riley, come on. If you don’t check, you won’t know if you passed.”

I raise a finger. “I also won’t know I failed either.” I think this is a fair point to make as a possibly licensed attorney.

“Can we focus on the potentialpositive?”

“I am.” I lick my fingers clean. “If I don’t know I failed, that’s a positive.”

Nate’s eyes drift into the shop and I can read his mind.

“I’m locked out of my office,” I lie.

He takes a step closer to the door.

“My computer is broken.”

Now I’m following him.

---