“I know you did.” I kept my voice even. “I thought you meant the backyard. That’s my fault. I should have been paying better attention. But even if you see Jolly outside, you can’t leave the yard without telling me exactly where you’re going. Okay?”
The tears came then. Real tears, the messy, gulping kind that shook his whole body.
“I thought he was lost. I thought Jolly was lost and nobody was going to help him.”
Ben moved then. He crouched down in front of William, and his voice was the same one he’d used at the assembly. Direct, calm, carrying weight without force.
“William. Jolly is a trained K9. That means he knows how to stay close and how to come home. He would never just run off on his own.”
William wiped his nose with his sleeve. “But I saw?—”
“You might have seen another dog. There are a lot of dark-furred dogs around. But Jolly was with me today, working at the station. He was safe the whole time.”
“He was?”
“The whole time. And you know what? If Jolly ever did get loose, I have ways to find him. That’s what I’m trained for. So if you ever think something’s wrong, you come get me or your mom. Don’t go looking on your own.” He paused. “And between you and me, why would Jolly want to run away when his best friend is right here in the backyard?”
Something in William’s face loosened. Not all the way, because the fear was still there, the aftershocks still running through him. But enough that his breathing slowed and his grip on my shirt eased.
“He’s still my best friend?”
“Without a doubt. Just look at him.”
William looked at Jolly. Jolly’s tail thumped twice. A confirmation that required no translation.
William slid off my lap and crouched beside Jolly. He wrapped both arms around the dog’s neck and pressed his face into the fur.
“Goodnight, Jolly,” he whispered. “I’m glad you weren’t lost.”
Jolly leaned into him and closed his eyes.
I looked at Ben over William’s head. He gave me a small nod.Go. I’ll be here.
I carried William upstairs. Gave him a bath, helped him change into his pajamas, tucked him in with the covers pulled high. He didn’t even ask to read a story. Jolly’s red ball was still on his nightstand where he’d left it that morning.
“Mom?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
“I’m sorry I scared you.”
I brushed his hair back from his forehead. “I’m sorry I wasn’t listening. We both learned something tonight, okay?”
He nodded. His eyes were already heavy, the adrenaline crash pulling him under. I sat on the edge of his bed until his breathing evened out, until his hand went slack on the covers, until I was sure he was asleep.
Then I went back downstairs.
Ben was on the front porch, leaning against the railing, arms crossed. A quick glance toward the street told meDonovan was gone and Jolly nowhere in sight. He’d taken the dog home and come back.
“He’s asleep,” I said.
“Good.”
I held the door open. “Come inside.”
He looked at me for a beat, then pushed off the railing and followed me in.
We ended up in the kitchen. I leaned against the counter. He stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets. The house was so quiet I could hear the dishwasher cycling through its rinse.
