Page 52 of Knot By Design
Rufus trots back, tail wagging so hard he smacks my knee. He’s enormous, a slobbering golden retriever who has never understood the concept of personal space. I scratch his head automatically.
“Good boy,” I mutter, though he’s anything but.
Maisie pats his back absently. Rufus plops down beside her, resting his giant head on her tiny knees.
I pull in a long breath, the cold biting my lungs, the faint smell of sugar and exhaust mixing in the air.
Amber’s house looked like a war zone when I showed up. Clothes on the stairs, toys scattered, Luke shouting from the kitchen about how “this wasn’t what he signed up for.” Amber shouting back that he never signs up for anything.
They’ve always been that way—fire and fire.
I don’t know why I keep thinking I can put out their flames.
Maybe because I’ve been doing it since we were kids.
She was the loud one, the beautiful disaster, always chasing the next thrill. I was the quiet brother with my nose in a book, patching things together behind her.
Mom used to call me her “little old man.” Dad called me her shadow.
And when our parents died in a car accident twenty-two years ago, I became her safety net.
Every time she fell, I was there. Paying rent. Fixing cars. Making sure Maisie had shoes that fit.
The last time Amber disappeared, Maisie was four. She left a note with just three words:I’ll get better. I kept it in my wallet until it turned soft from the fold.
Maisie stayed with me for six months. Six months of cartoons and pancakes and bedtime stories I didn’t know by heart but learned anyway.
She was bright then. Talkative. Laughing.
Now she’s quiet. That’s what scares me most.
“Uncle Jude?”
“Yeah, bug?”
“Are we going home soon?”
I hesitate. “Let’s not worry about that right now. Eat your ice cream. Mom just needs to rest.”
She nods but doesn’t look convinced.
The snow’s coming down heavier, thick flakes sticking to the windshield.
Fox Hollow’s two hours away. I drove here after Amber called, crying about Luke, thinking I could fix it. Now, watching Maisie sit small and silent beside me, I realize I can’t fix anything.
“I should’ve stayed back,” I murmur.
Maisie looks up. “What?”
“Nothing, sweetheart.”
Rufus sneezes, spraying both of us with melted snow. Maisie laughs for real this time, a quick burst of sound that makes my chest loosen.
“Gross,” she says.
“Yeah, he’s disgusting.”
Rufus wags harder, proud of himself.
