Page 47 of Just One More Thing

Hank is stretched out beside me, sound asleep, snoring like an old man. I rub behind his ears, slow and absentminded. “I’m really thankful for you,” I tell him. “I don’t say that enough.”

His ear flicks, so I know he’s listening.

“You make everything better. And I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I look out at the water for a second longer, then down at his heavy head resting on the dock. “I love you.”

He scoots just enough to press more of his weight into my leg, lets out one big breath, and settles deeper. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “I know.”

I turn the volume up a notch and hit repeat.

My head feels as thick as the humidity. The longer I sit here, the heavier both get. Then I hear footsteps coming down the dock behind me. Hard soles. Familiar pace.

“Uh-oh,” Charlie says. “Otis is playing.”

His voice carries easy over the water. The kind of voice that doesn’t rush into anything. Charlie is like a big brother to me. If he told me the sky wasn’t falling, I’d believe him even if it was already halfway down.

“What’s going on, my friend?”

I don’t turn right away. Just reach into the cooler, pop another beer, and hold it out behind me. He lowers himself beside me and waves it off. “Still on duty.” I bring it back and take a pull instead.

Charlie looks out across the bay. “In all the years,” he says finally, “I think the department’s responded to your place maybe twice.” He glances at me. “You gonna tell me why tonight made it three? Because of what today is?“

I take another drink.

Don’t answer.

Charlie doesn’t push. He just waits. That’s what real friends do. They don’t fill the silence. They sit with you inside it.

After a minute, I glance over. “Thanks for remembering.”

He gives me a look. “Jake.”

“I mean it.” I stare down at the label, peeling at the edge with my thumb. “And sorry I didn’t call you back today.”

“You never have to apologize to me. I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you.” He exhales and reaches over, giving my shoulder one firm squeeze. “Your parents were better parents to me than my own ever were. I’ll never forget today.”

There are only two people left in my life who’ve seen me lose it all the way.

Ryan, when Mo left.

Charlie, when my parents died.

I stare out at the dark line where the water meets the sky and let that sit there between us a second.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Charlie asks.

Beside me, Hank wakes up just enough to lift his head, give a low snort, then drop it across my thigh, anchoring me in place. “My day was already…” I shrug. “A lot. Tonight just added to it.”

“Does that have anything to do with who I saw leaving the restaurant?”

I pick at the label again. “She came to see me.”

“That’s big.”

“It is.” My voice comes out quieter than I mean it to.

He waits, so I keep going.