After he entered the station, he caught his father in his office. Hayes knocked on the door. His father’s head snapped up. “All done?” Dad asked.
“Yeah, the kid’s been processed.” Hayes tapped the file folder in his hands. “Got some paperwork but shouldn’t take long.”
“Good.”
Hayes moved to the seat across from his dad and sat, looking down at his clenched fists. For the past week, his thoughts were a loud roar in his ears, every question more confusing than the last. Until it finally occurred to him today that he could never go back. He couldn’t change a damn thing about his past. And maybe it was time to stop fighting that.
Dad’s voice softened. “Are you waiting for me to say something, son?”
“I can’t give you six months,” Hayes said, forcing the words out of his dry throat. He looked up at his father, whose head was cocked. “With all that’s happened, all that has gone wrong, I need roots that extend past six months.” Because he couldn’t live like he had been. Day to day, hoping and praying he’d survive the next one.
He had survived. And so had Maisie.
Sitting behind his desk, Dad steepled his fingers, his eyes searching Hayes’s. “Then tell me what you want.”
The answer, for how much of a struggle it had been to find it, suddenly became clear. He gestured at the file folders for new applicants on his father’s desk. “Is one of those available positions you’ve got for a detective?”
Dad gave a slow nod. “One of them, yes.”
“Before—” Hayes cleared the emotion clogging his throat, forcing himself to go on. “In the months before we lost Laurel, I had been told that I could take my detective test in Denver. Obviously, that plan was thwarted. But I’ve got the bachelor’s degree in criminal justice and the work history behind me.”
“You do,” Dad agreed. “Is that what you’re thinking? You want to be a detective?”
Hayes let all the guards down, showing his father all his weak spots. “I’ve been on the side of a victim. I need to be back on the other side.”
“I think that makes sense,” Dad said gently.
Hayes loosed a breath, tension melting away. “I can’t go back to being a beat cop, getting behind a cruiser, living the same life I did with Laurel.”
“You need something new? Something different?” A wide smile spread across Dad’s face. “Something you’re very good at.”
Hayes nodded. “No taking it easy on me. I earn my way, like everyone else.”
Dad snorted, leaning against his chair to fold him arms. “I don’t know why you always thought I was throwing a job at you. Because you’re my son, you’ll need to work ten times harder.”
Hayes didn’t reply, simply glad for it. It occurred to him then that he didn’t have to transfer to Denver all those years ago, in fear that his father would make it easy on him. He was glad the bar was set high. It would make him work to reach it. He rose and moved to the door. There, he squeezed the doorjamb and glanced over his shoulder. “Did you always know I’d come back to the force?”
“I hoped.” Dad’s expression went utterly soft, as did his voice, a rare thing for his father. “You’re a cop, Hayes, through and through, and I’m glad you remembered that.” His gaze shifted back to his papers then, dismissing Hayes. “Now go home and study your ass off. If you fail your test, you’ll have to answer to me.”
Hayes chuckled and left his office, finally feeling like he’d taken the right step forward.
15
Later that night, Maisie sat on her bed, sketching her memory of that day at the stream with Hayes. Soft, instrumental music played from her cell on the bedside table. Her small bedside lamp was turned on, a soft yellowish light warming the space. She’d taken some strong painkillers an hour ago, and with her finger finally pain-free, she had grabbed her sketch pad. Drawing awkwardly, but making it work, she let her pencil flow easily over the page, not exactly sure if she was getting the drawing right, but the stream, the mossy rocks, even Hayes sitting there, it all flowed from her pencil to the page. And creating something was keeping her mind off the fact that Hayes wanted to talk. She couldn’t explain why, but things felt…different. He felt different. And she wasn’t quite sure about any of it.
“Look at this.”
Maisie glanced away from her page, finding Clara barging into her room. “What is it?”
“Just look.” Clara offered the phone.
Maisie read the Google search, scanned the news articles, not believing what she saw before her. Great beer. Fun times. Three Chicks Brewery Outshines the Competition. “Holy shit,” she breathed.
“Yeah, holy shit is right,” Clara said, accepting her phone back. “You did that, Maisie. You know that, right? You pulled off something that even I hadn’t thought possible. You not only fixed the problem with missing that last festival, you blew our competition away. We went from a thousand followers on social media to over twenty thousand. Us. A small little brewery in River Rock.” Clara tucked her phone away in the pocket of her jeans and then took Maisie by the shoulders, squeezing gently. “You did that, just being you, creating in the way you do. I’m really, really proud of you, Maisie. Pops would have been too.”
“Thanks.” Maisie smiled, and yet somehow that happiness couldn’t quite reach her heart.
“And the best news yet,” Clara added, releasing Maisie’s shoulders to take a seat on the bed. “Today a distributor contacted me.”
“Shut up!” Maisie gasped.
“It’s true,” Clara said with a laugh. “I’m going into Denver for a meeting in a week.” Clara shook her head, obviously not believing all this either. “I didn’t even have to call them, Maisie. They called me. I hope you feel really good about this.”
“I do,” Maisie said. “Hell, I actually feel like I’ve gotten something right for once.”
Clara gave an understanding nod and then took Maisie’s good hand, squeezing tight. “Listen, you’ve done your part here, and I know that’s been important to you. Doing this for us. For Pops. But it’s okay, you know, if you want to branch out now, and see what else is out there for you. We all know that the brewery isn’t really your thing, and definitely not satisfying you, so here’s your chance, Maisie. Go do what makes your heart happy.”
Maisie lowered her gaze to their held hands. “You won’t be disappointed?”
“How could I be?” Clara countered. “You did your part. You’ve got no reason to feel like you’re leaving us hanging. Of course, it would be ideal if you wait to pull out your one-third in the company until we’ve gotten more successful, but if you absolutely need it, we’ll find a way to make it work with a loan or something.” She tucked a finger under Maisie’s chin, until Maisie lifted her eyes. “You got me an in with a distributor. Now it’s my turn to take the brewery to the next level. You’re an artist, a dreamer. Go create, sprinkle your sunshine where it’s most needed. Whenever we have big parties at the brewery, you can take control of those. You’ll always be a part of the brewery, if you want to be.”