I looked at her, really seeing her for the first time tonight. The hair, the tight jeans, the red lips, her bare feet with red-painted toes. “Holy shit. You’re gorgeous.”

She smiled. “Thanks. Told you your sister was magic.”

“It’s not just your hair, Sawyer. But I do like it.” I took a fistful of newly golden-streaked strands and tugged gently. “A lot.”

A laugh escaped her, loosening the knots in my gut even more. “I’m glad. And I’m so glad you called me back.”

“I almost didn’t. I was afraid I’d end up being a dick to you. But I wanted to be with you.”

“I wanted to be with you too. And you’re entitled to a bad day.”

She continued stroking my hair, my neck, my shoulders, and pressing soft kisses on my forehead. It was soothing and sweet, and it made me want to tell her things.

“I had to go to the hospital today to interview a suspect.”

“Was he injured or something?”

“No. He’d brought his six-year-old daughter in.”

Meg’s hands stopped. “Why?”

“She was screaming in pain and wouldn’t stop. I think it was the noise that bothered him more than her suffering. Turns out she had a kidney infection.”

“Poor baby.”

“We were called because of all the bruises on her body. New and old. And burn marks.”

Meg’s arms tightened around me. “No.”

“This fucker hurts her,” I seethed, the fury making my blood boil all over again. “I know he does. But I have to interview him with respect, and be polite, and try to get him to think he can trust me so he’ll admit to all the fucked up shit he does to his own kids. The girl isn’t the only child in the house.”

“Oh, Noah. That’s heartbreaking. No wonder you were so upset.”

“And the entire time, all I want to do is beat the living fuck out of this guy so he knows what it feels like.”

“I wish you could have.”

“Me too. That fucker deserves worse than jail time for hurting a child.”

“Do you think he—” she stopped, unable to even voice the thought.

“I don’t know for sure. But I suspect it.” My stomach turned over. “I kept thinking about my niece, Violet. She’s exactly that age. If anybody ever—”

“Oh honey, no. Don’t even think it.”

“I swear to God, Meg, I’ve seen a lot of things you wouldn’t believe. Violence. Tragic accidents. War. I’ve watched men die right in front of my eyes.” I forced the tremble out of my voice. “But nothing fucks me up like someone hurting a child.”

“I know.” Meg rubbed my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“It just reminds me how fucked up the world is. I don’t even know how people can bring kids into it. My sister is crazy.”

“Come on, it’s not all bad. And we’ve got heroes like you to protect us. Did you arrest the guy?”

“No. A detective was brought in. She’ll get more detailed photos, a sexual assault exam, and bring the suspect to the PD for a more thorough interview. But I don’t need any of that. I knew in my gut that guy was guilty, and there was nothing I could do about it.”

“That has to be so frustrating. You must have wanted to put your fist through a wall.”

“I nearly did, I was so wound up. And I was a total asshole to everyone the rest of the day. After my run, I went out for a beer, and I kept hoping someone would throw a punch so I could get in a fight.”

“Well, I’m glad they didn’t. I like your face. And you like your job. Both of those things probably would have been in jeopardy if you’d hit someone.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

She took my face in her hands and forced me to look at her. “But I don’t blame you for being that worked up. And I’m sorry.” She kissed my lips, then my forehead before cradling my head against her chest again. “You just want to protect everybody. You’ve always been that way. And it messes you up inside when you feel like you can’t.”

I sat still, trying to stay right here in the moment. Taking comfort in her touch, the smell of her perfume, the sound of her heartbeat. The way she understood me. Listened to me. “I remember sometimes when my dad would have a bad day, he’d come home and pick a fight with my mom. Or blow up at something she said.”

“Why?”

“Because unlike those ridiculous TV shows you watch, the good guys don’t always win. He’d be angry and frustrated and want to beat the shit out of somebody, just like I did tonight, but he was the sheriff so he couldn’t, and it would all bottle up inside him until he got home. I guess it was where he felt safe to let off the steam.”

“What about your mom?”

“Oh, she knew what he was doing. Sometimes she gave it right back to him, if he was being a real dick, and sometimes she just let him rant. She’s got thick skin. And most of the time, my dad was pretty calm, even when people around him were pissed off and belligerent—it’s part of what made him such a good cop. He knew how to keep control. But every now and again, he just needed to blow up.”

“Must have been tough for you guys as kids.”

“They didn’t do it in front of us. And Asher wore noise-canceling headphones a lot of the time, so I don’t think he ever heard them. Nina would put on music in her room. I’d just leave the house sometimes, go for a run.” I paused. “After I met you, sometimes I’d head over to your house.”

“Really? You never said anything about your parents fighting.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t really want to talk about it. And it always passed. My dad would apologize, and my mom would accept. He’d bring home flowers the next day. Red roses, always.”

“That’s sweet.”

“It was. They were good together. Understood each other. I wish they could have had more time.” I felt my chest get tight thinking of the injustice of it. “Their big plan was a trip to Ireland for their fortieth wedding anniversary. My dad would have been retired by then.”

“Oooh, Ireland. I’d love to go there someday.”

I frowned. “I’m trying to get her to take the trip anyway, but she’s so damn stubborn. And she uses Asher as an excuse, but I’d told her a million times Asher would be fine here. Or I’d go stay with him at her house.”

“Well, it’s got to be hard for her, if it was a dream she had with your dad. She has to learn to let go of that and reframe it as a new dream. That’s scary, and she might even feel like she’s being disloyal to your dad if she does it alone.”

“But she’s got to move on,” I said angrily. “My dad wanted her to be happy. He made me promise I wouldn’t let her stop living, and I feel like I’m letting him down.”

“You can’t force someone to be happy, Noah. You have to let them decide to let go of whatever is holding them back. It’s painful to see someone you love choosing fear over happiness, but it has to be her choice. All you can do is make it clear you’ll be there to help when she’s ready.”

“I know. I’m just fucking . . . frustrated with everything, including myself.” I shut my eyes. “I don’t even know why you’re bothering with me tonight.”