Peaches bounds toward her without hesitation but stops short when she sees Daisy holding up her leash like a prize. She then opens her mouth to show that she’s got Daisy’s car keys. How did she even get a hold of them?
"Nope. Not this time," Daisy mutters, dodging to the left as Peaches attempts a strategic zigzag. "You are not running off with those keys again."
Peaches barks once, tail wagging furiously, and bolts around Daisy’s legs, causing her to spin in a circle like a malfunctioning wind-up toy. "I swear, if you make me chase you across this park like last time?—"
She lunges and catches Peaches' collar mid-dash, managing to wrest the jingling keys free. "Victory!"
Daisy straightens, breathless, and notices the couple still laughing nearby. She grins. "Dog yoga. It's a thing."
Then she offers me a half-wave and turns for the gate, Peaches trotting at her side, head high with mischief. Daisy doesn't look back.
I think I've really fucked up.
Today started like any other shift—until it didn’t. A three-car pile-up on Route 1. One fatality. Two kids were injured. The kind of call that guts you from the inside out. I did everything I could. I always do.
But nothing prepares you for telling two crying kids that their mom isn’t coming back. She was still alive when we got there—barely. She was pinned, crushed, her eyes already glassy. We worked on her for what felt like hours, but she coded just as we got her out. And those kids—they saw it. I watched the life leave her body. I saw their faces and something in me cracked.
When I got back to the station, I couldn’t stop shaking. One of the captains clapped a hand on my shoulder, his voice gruff but knowing. "Whatever happens in life, McAllister, it's what youdoin life that matters." Then he jerked his chin toward my phone. "Now go call the girl before she thinks you don’t give a damn."
And the only thing I could think wasI need to hear her voice.
So, I call, and it goes straight to voicemail.
I call again. Still nothing.
I try texting. Nothing.
By the fourth try, panic has my stomach in a vise. I don’tdopanic. I handle emergencies for a living.But this? Not knowing if she was okay? Needing to hear her voice? It's unraveling me in seconds.
So, I do something I haven’t done since I was a teenager with a busted skateboard and a broken wrist—I run. Not metaphorically. Iliterallyrun through town like a madman. I check Waverly Blooms first—locked up tight. No lights on. I swing by Seaside Sweets, thinking maybe she needed sugar therapy, but there was no sign of her there either. My next stop is the historical museum, though I have no idea why she’d be there, and I’m sweating through my shirt now like a lunatic.
Just when I’m ready to give up, I head toward the beach as a last-ditch effort. And there she is. Barefoot in the sand, her sundress fluttering around her knees, Peaches darting in and out of the surf. She's laughing at Peaches. Glowing like the sun.
I almost drop to my knees from relief, the sight of her and Peaches intact hitting me like a gut punch of gratitude. But the surge of emotion curdles into something sharp and hot—anger, fear, frustration all tangled up together. Instead of collapsing, I stomp across the sand like an unhinged lunatic, fueled by the sheer terror of thinking something had happened to her and the maddening helplessness that came with it.
"Daisy!"
She turns, eyes wide. "Ashe? What the hell?—"
"Why didn’t you answer your phone?" I cut in, breathless, shaking. I probably look like a wild animal. Great look, Ashe. Real smooth.
She blinks, her brow knitting. "I… I left it upstairs charging. Why?" Her tone shifts, unsure now, like she's not sure if she’s in trouble or if something horrible has happened. "Ashe, what’s going on? You're kind of scaring me right now."
"I called you three times! After the call we just had at work—I thought something happened. I thought you were—" I drag a hand through my hair. "You can’t just disappear. Not after?—"
Her expression hardens, eyes narrowing as her voice sharpens with disbelief. "Excuse me? I can’tjustdisappear? Isn’t that rich coming from you? Because if memory serves,youvanished like a magician with commitment issues."
I flinch at her tone and her anger, but she's not wrong.
"You don’t get to demand my attention when you won’t even return the favor, Ashe. You kissed me. You held me. Then you shut me out so fast I got whiplash. And now you want me to jump every time you call? That’s nothow this works."
"Daisy, I care about you. I?—"
"Thenshow me." Her voice wavers, but her spine is steel. "I’m not going to keep chasing after someone who only wants me when it’s convenient. I deserve more than halfway, Ashe. If you want me in your life, you’ve got to meet me there. Fully. Or not at all."
I open my mouth. Close it again.
The wind picks up, tossing her curls across her cheek. She doesn’t brush them away. Just looks at me like she’s already walking away in her mind.
