Page 159 of Come Back to Me

“Exactly. I liked it when we were all under the same roof.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“Am I a scary pilot or a dork?”

“You’re both.” Cole huffs. “All right, all right. We’ll visit before training camp. I need to check in with Mia on dates.”

I fake-sniffle. “My dipshit brother is growing up.”

“Screw you.”

“Nah. Where’d be the fun in that?”

He blows a raspberry down the line. “I expect a photo of your dog pissing on an RCMP vehicle.”

“On it. Speak later, bud.”

“Yup.”

Parking in the visitor’s lot, I climb out. Brogan, who’s been chill as fuck, immediately cries and barks as I shut the door with a soft order of, “Stay.”

He jumps onto the passenger seat, barking louder as I round the box and head for his door. When he sees me standing there, he stops with the barking but keeps on whining.

“Brogan, no,” I command.

He starts panting—panic setting in before I even have a chance to open his door. When he tries to jump out, I block his path, aware that impulse training is in our immediate future.

“Brogan, sit.” With a yip, he obeys, but he continues panting excessively until I play with his ears. “You need to chill out, buddy. I can’t be with you twenty-four seven.”

His puppy-dog eyes have me caving quickly and I clip on his leash. He doesn’t like the muzzle I slip on next, but he doesn’t grumble, merely tips his head to the side as I fasten the buckles.

It says a lot for his attachment issues that I know I don’t need the leash. The muzzle’s another matter entirely.

So far, he’s been predominantly marshmallow sweet, but who knows if he thinks either of us is being threatened? I’m not willing to jeopardize Tee’s first in-person gift to me.

Ducking into the back seat, I grab the paper bag Mrs. Abelman loaded down with treats for Brogan and a couple drinks for me then lock the door behind me.

When we make it to my parking spot, I snag my phone as I lead Brogan to the back wheel of Reilly’s vehicle and watch him sniff it, then piss on it.

Midstream, I take a picture and send it to Cole.

Me: As requested.

Cole: Dude’s got the Niagara Falls in his bladder.

Snorting, I send him a laughing emoji, then tuck my phone away.

With Brogan at my side, we traverse the parking lot and the detachment entrance.

My day-shift staff are seated at their desks when I step inside the department.

Most of them turn as the door opens, so I remark, “Meet Brogan. He’s our new mascot.”

Sally-Anne frowns. “Is he K-9?”

“No. But he has attachment issues,” I drawl as I stride toward my desk, “and can’t be left alone. Updates? Any sightings of Amy Nygard?”

Marty nervously toys with a pen. “Not yet.”

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