Page 22 of Wag More Bark Less

“Since when?”

“Since Mom . . .”

He didn’t have to finish that sentence. We both knew how it ended . . . since Mom died.

Mom had been in great physical health and was taken out on her way home from a bookstore convention in Denver by a daredevil driver who had twice the legal limit of alcohol in his system.

I’d turned down the trip because I wanted to get back to my duty station with a few days of leave to myself before I had to get back to work. Never mind that I had everything pre-packed for our upcoming field exercise and there was no critical reason to return to base. Instead of changing my flight and extending my stay to make the trip with her, she went alone. A decision I would regret for the rest of my life.

“What aren’t you telling me?” I demanded.

“There’s nothing else to tell. Dad’s getting his annual physical, and he’d rather you didn’t bring it up when he gets in. It’s routine.”

“You sent Opal to the back of the store to tell me it’s nothing?”

“I sent her to fetch you coffee because I knew you’d overreact.”

“I’m not overreacting.”

“You squeeze that clipboard any harder, you’re going to snap it in half,” Connor said, his tone still as calm as when I arrived.

I set the clipboard on the counter and flexed my hand. “So, what’s the plan with this place, then?”

“With the hardware store?” Connor asked, eyebrows drawn.

I often wondered but had yet to question until now. Admittedly, it was out of left field. But now that I’d asked, I wanted to know the answer. I wanted a plan.

Mom had only been gone four years, and despite a period of uncertainty this past summer, her bookstore was now in the good hands of our sister. But we never discussed what would become of the hardware store once Dad could no longer handle managing it. Or, God forbid, something happened to him.

It seemed logical that Connor would take it over, but I didn’t know what plans my little brother had for his future. To be fair, we hadn’t acted much like brothers lately. I made it to most family dinners at the farm, helped Connor renovate his place when I had time, and attended every softball game Opal played, but it was no secret our relationship had an underlying current of strain.

But if I could make amends with Kira after what went down last summer, I could figure out how to have a normal relationship with my brother. He was the easy sibling to get along with. Couldn’t be that fucking hard, could it?

“Are you going to run this place if something happens to Dad⁠—”

“For fuck’s sake, Luke. Would you stop trying to force me into retirement?” The sound of Dad’s voice startled me. How had I missed his heavy footsteps on the old, creaky floor behind me? Was I that exhausted, or was I wound so tightly that I missed him sneaking in the back door?

“There something you want to tell us?” I fired back, refusing to accept I was overreacting.

“Nope.”

“Here you go, Uncle Luke.” Opal offered up a store mug filled with steaming coffee the color of the caramels Walter always kept in his pocket, just the way I preferred it.

“Thanks, kiddo.”

I took a long, slow sip, feeling a second wind coming on as the sugary sweet nectar went down.

“We should get started,” Connor said, handing Opal his clipboard and a purple highlighter.

“This conversation isn’t over,” I said sternly, stuffing the box cutter in my jeans pocket before grabbing a hand scanner for myself.

“There’s no conversation,” Dad said firmly.

“Bullshit—”

“I have an appointment for a root canal next Thursday,” Dad snapped at me. “Do you want to come hold my hand for that? Or will you be too busy plotting ways to oust me from the store I built from the ground up?”

“For fuck’s sake,” I mumbled under my breath. The coffee, despite being a particularly strong batch, was no longer enough. “I’m not trying to oust you.” I scrubbed a hand down my face, wishing I had an emergency to get me out of what was going to be a long fucking day.