Page 92 of Cryptic Curse

I nod.

Falcon walks back inside and returns less than a minute later with two bourbons.He hands me one.I take a sip, hold the liquid on my tongue for a moment, absorbing its heat.It’s smooth, expensive, and aged to perfection.

I nod, more to myself than to him, and lower the glass.He doesn’t say anything, just watches me from over the rim of his own drink, waiting.

Waiting for the truth he knows I didn’t drive all this way to keep.

Sammy runs up to me, panting.He’s larger than Sydney now, but still a pup.He wags his tail, and I lean down to let him lick my face.He reminds me of Jimmy when he was a pup.

I love dogs.Always have.Something about them cuts through all the noise.They don’t pretend, don’t lie, don’t play games.They either trust you or they don’t.And if they do, it’s all in.No hesitation.No conditions.Just loyalty, raw and honest.The kind you don’t find often in people.

They don’t care what you’ve done, who you’ve disappointed, or how much of a mess you are inside.If you show up—really show up—they’ll meet you there, tail wagging like it’s the only truth that matters.

And sometimes, that kind of love feels like the only thing that’s ever made any sense.

Not that I didn’t get love from my parents.

It may have been problematic, and it came with a slew of conditions, but it was there in some form or another.

And of course I always felt love from my sisters and brothers.Even from Eagle, despite all the hell I give him.

But nothing matches the unconditional love from dogs.When a dog looks at you with its big brown eyes, somewhere inside you know that everything’s going to be okay.

At least usually.

Even Sammy’s frisky dogginess isn’t helping me at the moment.

Falcon takes a sip of his drink.“So I know you didn’t come all this way just to pet the dog.”

“Nope.”I shoot the rest of my drink, letting it burn my throat.

The burn isn’t fiery, but smooth.Falcon only drinks the good stuff.

He was a wine drinker before he went away to prison.

Not sure I’ve seen him drink wine since he’s been home.

That’s another story.

I slowly sink into a bench on Falcon’s deck.“Eagle and I went to the old barn earlier today.”

Falcon’s eyebrows nearly fly off his face.“What?”

“Yeah.I suppose we should have told you.”

He crosses his arms.“Damned right you should’ve told me.”

“I would have, if I’d known we were going to find… Well, what we found.”

He sits down next to me, his eyes wide.“You’re freaking me out a little, Hawk.”

“I’m going to need a refill,” I say, lifting my empty glass.

Falcon walks back inside and returns with the bottle.He pours me two fingers.“That enough?”

I shake my head.“Not even fucking close.”

I lift the glass to my lips, but I don’t shoot it.Two fingers is a lot to shoot, though I could easily do it.Instead I take a long sip.Let it burn my throat again.

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