Page 4 of An Unfinished Memory

“Wilder.” Ray’s gruff greeting wasfull of affection. He’d been the school resource officer when I was in high school, and he’d taken me under his wing. He cheered me and my siblings on at games, yet understood when we were wild little pricks and redirected us with a stern word and the threat of calling our father, Barnaby Knight.

I would’ve traded Ray Dahlen for Barns any day.

“You around this weekend?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. I’ll be at the ranch, but do you wanna help me tow Emily Miller’s car to town? Jeremy stopped me tonight.”

“Give me a call when you head out.” He perked up. As sheriff, he didn’t have much downtime, and when he did, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He’d rather be out lending a hand than sitting in his house.

I did a few more laps around town to give Carla time to clear my block before I pulled up in front of my place. The two-story house had been built ten years ago with a front porch and a fenced-in backyard. The grill sat on the back deck, unused for more than a couple of years. The yard was neatly mowed, the bushes in the front precisely trimmed, but the flower beds were empty. A dream home for a family. The big house a young couple had planned to spend the rest of their lives in.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Coming home was the worst part of my day.

I logged out and let dispatch know I was officially done for the night.

I went into the house and didn’t bother with the lights since I’d grab a longneck and sit in front of the TV until I fell asleep. Maybe I’d eat something for dinner. Maybe I’d stand at the fridge and wonder why I never had more than beer. Delilah would bring a pie by tomorrowand claim it was for the trouble. Dealing with her and Guy was no trouble. Depressing, but I was glad to help.

In my bedroom, I dug my phone out of my pocket. Eliot was texting updates. I tossed the phone on the bed, uninterested in hearing about what a good fucking time they were all having.

She’dbe there too. A big reason why I didn’t pass on the trip in the first place like I should’ve.

I changed out of my uniform and stayed in my boxer briefs so I wouldn’t have to get undressed to get back into my uniform. I wasn’t on call tonight, but being asked to help with something like a bar fight wasn’t unusual.

I grabbed my phone, got a beer from the kitchen, and sat on the couch with a groan.

Fuck’s sake, I wasn’t even forty yet.

In a few weeks, I would be.

Another groan escaped. My thirty-ninth birthday had been…exactly like right now. A beer and ESPN, fielding calls and texts from my siblings that were reallyHow are you?check-ins.

I looked around the house. I’d taken the pictures off the wall when the ink dried on the divorce papers. Just like I’d left my ring in my sock drawer.

My phone buzzed again. Eliot’s name flashed on the screen. I’d expect incessant texts from my brother Austen about what I was missing, but he wasn’t able to get leave from the Army. What the hell did Eliot want?

I took a long drink from my beer and read the first message.You still have time. The streetdance goes until 1.

Should I try?—

No. Goddammit. I knew what I’d be going for, and I wasn’t one for torturing myself beyond the boring nights in front of the TV.

Fucking street dance. It was better I sit my ass on this couch. I didn’t need those memories, fuck you very much, and Eliot knew it too.

The next message was a picture. In the middle of the image was Cody looking like the brother I’d grown up with in a black T-shirt, jeans, boots. The wife who’d gotten the stick out of his ass, Tova, was wearing a giant grin and a bright pink dress that highlighted her baby belly. I was about to flick out of the picture when I spotted a couple dancing behind them on the roped-off street.

I set the beer down with a thud and enlarged the image.

Some cowboy asshole I’d never seen before had a delighted grin and was gazing adoringly at his dance partner. The woman was goddamn smiling at Cowboy Asshole while cinched to him. Her dirty-blonde hair was woven into a braid that circled around her head. She was wearing her favorite pair of boots for dancing and a yellow summer dress full of daisies I’d never seen before.

The woman was Sutton Knight. My ex-wife.

I tossed the phone down, the picture still on the screen.

The divorce had been final for months. She was moving on. I should do the same.

I glowered at the image. She was nothing but a speck on the screen, but I suddenly had the eyesight of a bald damn eagle. Her smile. Pink lips with tinted gloss. Legs that used to wrap around my waist.

How’s my dog, Sutton?

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