and pale skin yesterday. Not even that or her compact size could mask the strength Dan had sensed inside her. Something about Brooke compelled Dan to both take care of her and stand beside her. “I thought you were heading back up north again.”
“Figured a walk wouldn’t hurt.” Rick rolled his shoulders. “My old joints could use a stretch.”
“You don’t walk, Dad.” Now Ben would want to walk, too—perhaps even tonight. Soon Dan would be offering to pet sit or walk the dog himself. No doubt, Ava would be delighted to know he was getting more exercise. And he could use the exercise. Still, dog walking wasn’t exactly what Dan had in mind.
Besides, his tenant had promised Dan wouldn’t even know she or her pets were there. Now he was staring at her dog and thinking about her.
“Never too old to change things.” Rick reached into his pocket and pulled out a doughnut, his eyebrows lifting up and down. “Besides, I’ve got treats for Luna and me.”
“Dad.” Dan stretched the word into a warning. Doughnuts were not in his father’s restricted diet. Nor were pastries part of Dan’s diet, if he intended to prove Ava wrong and show her that he did, in fact, take care of himself. And prove he wasn’t going to be another statistic.
“The way I see it, the walk offsets the calories and sugar.” Rick zipped the pastry inside his pocket as if afraid Dan would demand he hand it over. “I’m sharing with Luna. Ben, don’t tell Brooke.”
“I can’t tell Brooke anything because Dad won’t even let me meet her.” Ben’s mulish tone deepened the scowl he aimed at Dan.
“I didn’t want to bother her last night. The lights weren’t even on in the apartment.” Although Dan had checked on Brooke. Saw the bedroom light on after he took out the trash. Saw it was still on after midnight when he’d walked out to his truck to get his phone charger.
Ben leaned out the window toward his grandfather. “Did you know Dad told Brooke that Luna can’t use the grass?”
The horror in Ben’s voice made it sound like Dan had ordered the dog to be chained inside its crate indefinitely.
“There’s nothing saying that your father can’t change his mind,” Rick said.
Not happening. Dan had come up with that rule after Brooke had failed to invite him into his own apartment. After he’d brought her groceries. Every single day strangers let Dan inside their houses. Granted, those strangers were usually in medical distress. But Brooke had been distressed, too. He’d seen that much in her tight grip on the door handle and heard it in her breathless voice. The woman needed help, even if she didn’t recognize it.
His response to being shut out of his own rental unit was childish, of course. But he stood by his new rule. And his plan to avoid her.
“Dad also claimed that Luna would scare me. But I’ve played with bigger dogs at Sophie’s doggy day care.” Ben rolled his eyes. “Grandpa, you have to make Dad change his mind.”
Dan wanted to change Brooke’s mind about him. He wanted Brooke to trust him.
“That’s the thing with Sawyer men.” Rick rubbed his chin. “Once we make up our minds, we get set in our ways.”
“But you started walking, Grandpa,” Ben argued.
“Okay. We’re going to be late.” Dan ended the conversation before his son and father teamed up and tried to outmaneuver him. He had to be sharp with this pair. His tenant had distracted him. That would need to stop. Brooke didn’t want his help. Fine. Dan wasn’t all that concerned if she trusted him or not. “Dad, keep it to one doughnut.”
Rick nodded. Yet his hand landed on his other pocket, giving him away.
Dan rolled up Ben’s window and glanced at his son. “If you reconsider your stance on not eating vegetables besides broccoli, then I’ll reconsider my grass rule.”
“Brussel sprouts aren’t worth a maybe, Dad.” Ben adjusted his seat belt. His voice lifted with curiosity. “But if you promise to let Luna in the backyard, I’ll try cauliflower.”
“A dog ruining the grass isn’t worth you only trying a new vegetable.” Dan slid a dose of encouragement into his tone. “If you promise to eat cauliflower every week for the rest of the school year, then we might have a deal.”
“Dad, you don’t even eat cauliflower every week.” Ben laughed.
Dan stopped in the drop-off lane at Ben’s school. “Does that mean we don’t have a deal?”
Ben opened the door, grabbed his backpack and shook his head. “Guess Grandpa was right. Us Sawyer men are just stuck in our ways.”
Ben hurried to catch up with his best friend, Wesley. The pair scooted to the side of the entrance and waited. A blond-haired girl with her walking stick extended joined them. Laughter ensued before the trio disappeared inside the school. Ben and Wesley met Ella every morning outside the school—the same place at the same time. One of the boys would be there to help Ella if she needed it throughout the day. That was their daily routine. Dan pulled away from the school, waving to the principal and several teachers in the car line. The same as every morning. Dan wasn’t stuck in his ways.
He just liked his routine. Every time he’d ever detoured, bad things happened. World-tilting, life-altering things. Things that curdled his stomach, crumpled his knees and damaged brotherly bonds.
One Saturday, he’d rearranged his work shift to join Valerie and three-year-old Ben for an impromptu visit to the redwood forest. Inside the national park, Dan had walked to the bathrooms. Valerie and Ben played hide-and-seek. He’d been gone five minutes and Valerie screamed Dan’s name. Ben had wandered into the forest. Valerie had lost their son. And Dan had lost years off his life. If he’d gone to work that day as scheduled, Ben and Valerie would’ve gone to their playdate as planned. And Dan wouldn’t know how to describe mind-numbing terror or full-body panic.
Sure, they’d found Ben pretty quickly. But the outcome could have been so much more tragic. Dan had a mental list of such events. Following a schedule kept life predictable like he preferred. Like he relied on to keep Ben safe. Why would he want to change things and risk disrupting the life he’d built? The life he liked.
One stop at the drugstore to replenish the Band-Aid stock for the school nurse, Dan ran through his schedule and pulled into his driveway. He had time to return those phone calls, take a nap, then finish his errands.
The dark-haired woman rushing toward him had him slamming the truck into Park. The blood staining her light blue sweatshirt had him jumping out of the truck. Brooke.
A quick assessment of Brooke from head to toe confirmed the source of the blood was the bundle she cradled. Dan moved toward her. “What happened?”
“It’s Archie.” She adjusted the towel around the cat and revealed a bandage saturated with blood on the animal’s stomach. “Can you help us?”
Blood matted Archie’s entire belly. Dan suddenly noticed the cat’s eye had been stitched closed and his left ear was missing completely. How was this cat going to survive the drive to the vet’s office? Dan clamped his teeth together to keep his negativity to himself.
Brooke covered the
