Page 163 of Come Back to Me

“They needed a home!”

“Callan’s building it for them!”

“That isn’t a home. It’ll be a haven. That’s not the same.”

Deciding a referee might be required, I call, “Tee? You ready?”

“We haven’t finished discussing this,” Zee points out.

She hikes her ever-present purse onto her shoulder. “If I see a puddle, I’ll clean it up!”

“Why did you have to get me one who leaks all the time?”

Tee snorts. “They didn’t have a box you can check off for no leaking. Anyway, you can’t argue that she’s better than the app for knowing when your levels are off.”

That has my sister-in-law muttering, “Know-it-all.”

A quick glance at Tee from the corner of my eye tells me she’s smirking. And her smugness doubles down when the Bichon Frisé Zee’s nicknamed Puddle, who’s slumbering at the side of the swing, yips.

A moment later, Zee’s blood sugar monitoring app sounds an alarm.

“I mean, I hate to say ‘I told you so,’” Tee drawls as she sources a packet of trail mix from her ‘suitcase.’ “But I have no problem being right.”

Zee flips her the bird before tearing into the wrapper once it flops onto her lap after bouncing off her shoulder.

Now Tee’s engaged in a stare-off with Zee, looking fit to weaponize a cashew nut, I inform Callan, “The marshals are liaising with the security firm.”

“I was hoping you’d make that happen.”

“Yup. Should have handled it sooner, but with the new security team in, I wanted their take.

“The ranch is on the list of patrols as of today. Though, we may have to ditch some of your protocols, seeing as they’re only legal inside of places like the CCP.”

Callan’s nose wrinkles. “Private land.”

“That you know exactly what I’m talking about is problematic.” Tee loses the stare-off when she jumps into my truck. As Zee pumps her fist in celebration, I tell Callan, “I’m a cop, baby bro. You win some; you lose some. Just make them less illegal, all right?”

“Seventy percent illegal?”

I roll my eyes. “Fifty.”

When I climb behind the wheel, I find Tee riffling through her things again. “Mrs. Abelman told me you asked for this.” This being a paper bag, one loaded with goodies, that she withdraws from her Mary Poppins’ purse.

I slide my shades back onto my nose before I set off. “Figured we could grab lunch.”

“You figured, huh?”

“Wishful thinking,” I proffer hopefully.

“You’re clearly a fan of miracles.”

I clear my throat. “A man can dream.”

“Dream... Strong verb choice. I like it.”

“I thought yesterday and the letters…”

“You have one problem. Well, two, actually.”

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