Page 34 of Awakening the Sheriff

“Dad.” Byron only gave me the barest of nods, and I couldn’t muster the energy to fight to engage him in a conversation, so I only nodded back.

“Byron.”

Surprise flashed in his eyes, but then he schooled his expression again.

“Let’s go,” I said. “Say goodbye to your mom.”

Milton hugged Mandy, but Byron didn’t, and I took some small consolation from that. As they marched out the door, carrying their weekend bags to the car, I turned to Mandy. “I’ll see you next week for winter break.”

“I have to work, so I can only have them the first half of that week.”

My fuse was getting shorter and shorter. “You can’t spring that on me with one week’s notice. I have a life too.”

Mandy compressed her lips, arching her eyebrows. “What could be so urgent and important that you can’t take care of your sons?”

Oh, that was rich coming from her.

“Besides, they’re old enough to be on their own for a few days. Stop coddling them.”

“May I remind you that Byron got arrested? Maybe not the best time to let him be on his own. But whatever. I’ll take them, as always. Let me know when to drop them off and pick them back up.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Was thethank youmeant to appease me? Because if that were the case, it wasn’t working. I had never wanted to bitch slap her more in my life, and I was not a violent person by any standard. Not that I ever would, but the urge was strong.

With a heavy heart, I stepped out of Mandy’s house and walked to my car. The cold winter air felt stifling, as if it was pressing down on me from all sides. Byron and Milton were already waiting in the car, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and concern. They’d undoubtedly picked up on the tension. I wasn’t a good enough actor to hide the turmoil inside me.

“Everything okay, Dad?” Milton asked cautiously.

“Not feeling so good, but I’ll be fine,” I choked out, forcing a smile as I slid into the driver’s seat.

As we drove home, an oppressive silence filled the car, punctuated only by the hum of the engine and the occasional sigh coming from the back row. My body felt tense, every muscle coiled tight as I gripped the steering wheel. The boys exchanged wary glances I caught in the rearview mirror, but none of us spoke a word. Usually, I would ask questions, try to get them to talk, but I couldn’t this time. I flat-out refused to break down in front of them. Byron would lose whatever little respect he still had for me if I did that.

My thoughts swirled like a storm, tormenting me. Doubt and guilt gnawed at my insides. Had I forced my desires on my family without considering the consequences? Had I been selfish in chasing my dreams at the expense of their happiness, completely blind to their feelings?

Maybe Mandy was right, and I had made the wrong choice. Maybe this whole move to Forestville had been nothing more than me chasing a foolish dream, which now threatened to cost me everything. I glanced back at my sons, who stared out the windows, AirPods in their ears and lost in their own thoughts. I loved them so much, but maybe that wasn’t enough.

By the time I pulled into our driveway, it was dark, and the motion-activated floodlight turned on, casting long shadows over our house. I put the car in Park and stared at the place that had once represented hope and a fresh start. Now all I saw were the cracks in the facade, the doubts that had wormed their way into my heart.

“See you inside.” Milton unbuckled his seat belt and opened the car door. Byron followed suit, and I couldn’t blame them. They grabbed their bags from the trunk and disappeared into the house without another word. Since our garage was small, it was easier for them to get out before I parked the car.

I remained in the car, my grip on the steering wheel almost painful as I stared at the flickering lights the boys had turned on in the windows of our home. I had to find a way to get through to them, to fix and mend what I had broken—or risk losing everything that mattered most to me.

13

AUDEN

The Winter Festival in Forestville was always a sight to behold, and we got lucky with the weather this year. An azure sky formed a sharp contrast with the packed snow on the ground, and the sun’s generous beams made everything glitter. Main Street was shut down for the two days of the festival, all traffic diverted through side streets, and the festival committee had once again gone all out on the decorations.

Strings of light connected each tree with the next, and the lamp posts had been wrapped in silver-and-white garlands. All the shops had lights dangling in front of their windows, and as picturesque as it was now, it would look even more cozy and inviting at night.

My daughters and I strolled down Main Street. “Look, Dad! She’s making a swan!” Dani exclaimed, her eyes wide with fascination as she pointed to an ice sculptor wielding a chisel and ice pick. The frozen masterpiece glistened in the sunlight, its delicate form emerging from the block of ice. The creativity and skills of those artists had always impressed me.

“It’s beautiful. But so is that Elsa.” I gestured at the next artist, who was creating the famous ice queen.

Dani snorted. “I’m too old forFrozen, Dad.”

Thank god for that. When she was younger, I’d played the movie for her so many times that I still knew the dialogue by heart. And the songs. Those incredible earworms had plagued me for days on end. “I know, but it’s still impressive.”

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