Page 65 of Falling For You

"Not this one," I said. "I'm just practicing. Barb won't let me touch the actual thing until I get the stitches right."

Travis watched my hands for a minute. I could see the gears turning.

"Can I try?"

I handed him the needles and the yarn. "One in each hand. Right needle does the work. Left one holds the stitches. Keep the tension loose."

Travis took them. I watched him wrap the yarn the wrong direction, try to pull through, and the whole thing seized into a knot.

He held it up. "I think I ruined it."

I pressed my lips together. The same voice I used when Birdie cracked an egg and got more shell in the bowl than anything else. "You'll get there."

He tried again. It got worse. He stared at the tangle for a long moment.

"Yeah no. Not my calling."

I clapped him on the shoulder. "At least you tried, brother."

I went back to my stitches. Barb let me touch the real thing two weeks later. Andy was already working on her side by then. Neat, even rows that Barb inspected and nodded at without saying anything, which from Barb was the highest compliment you could get.

We finished it on a Sunday afternoon at Barb's kitchen table. Barb cut the yarn, wove in the last end, and held it up. None of us said anything for a moment. It was small. A little uneven where my stitches met Andy's, but it was done.

Birdie put it on that evening. Soft, fitting her just right. Barb had made sure of that. Birdie looked down at herself and then up at me.

"Mommy Lillian made this?"

"Yes, but An—" Andy held my arm.

"Yes, your mommy Lillian made this for you." She looked at me and gave the smallest shake of her head. This was Lillian's. That was all Birdie needed to know.

Birdie twirled around the living room with her arms out, the sweater spinning with her. "I love it!"

Barb turned away and pressed her fingers to her eyes. She didn't want anyone to see, but I saw. Andy was watching Birdie with a look I'd never seen her give anyone.

Birdie was still spinning when I reached for Andy's hand. I wanted to tell her what this meant. What she meant. I'd figure out how.

CHAPTER 26

The Ask

ANDY

Jeremy and I were three blocks out when dispatch sent us to a residential burglar alarm on the west side. Monitored system, front door sensor tripped, homeowner not on-site.

We pulled up to a two-story with a stone facade, tall windows, and a security company sign staked near the front walkway. The alarm was still going. Underneath it, a dog barking. Deep, constant, furious.

Jeremy looked at me. "That's a big dog."

We drew our weapons and approached on foot. The front door was closed but unlocked.

I pushed the door open and the barking got louder.

The burglar was on the kitchen floor. A man in dark clothes, face down, one arm tucked under his chest and the other wrapped around his head. There was blood on his forearm where the sleeve was torn through. A Rottweiler stood over him with its front paws planted on either side of his back, teeth bared, growling low and steady. A set of lockpicks sat on the tile near the doorway.

He wasn't going anywhere. The dog had made that decision before we got there.

"LVMPD. Stay on the ground. Don't move."