Page 59 of Into the Fall

I have it bad.

“Hey, at least he’s ambitious,” I said. “What about Linda? Her ten-layer poodle looks like it got mixed up with a mop.” The poodle-pastry’s head drooped to one side, eliciting a gasp from Linda and a zoom from the camera. “Well, there it goes, the leaning tower of Poodle,” I quipped. “Do you think the judges will throw it a bone for effort, or is it going to the doghouse?”

“Definitely the doghouse,” Neil murmured, and I kissed his cheek.

“You’ve got to admire the effort,” I replied, my gaze drifting back to the screen as the judges began their rounds.

“If we ever get a dog, remind me to hide the baking supplies,” Neil murmured, and warmth filled me. A dog. Our dog.

As the evening wound down and a yawn escaped Neil, stretching his weariness across his face, I nudged him. “Time for bed, huh?” I suggested, standing and extending my hand towards him. He took it, allowing me to hug him close. Neil’s breathing was ragged as he buried his face into the crook of my neck, and I thought I felt a sob, a soft cry that I took and held close as I encouraged him into the bedroom.

The warmth of the small house enveloped us when we moved toward the most comfortable bed in the world. As we settled under the covers, Neil was tense as he buried his face against me again.

“Tell me about your dad,” I whispered into the darkness, feeling Neil stiffen at the question.

He was quiet for a long time. “He was always a good dad when we needed him, strict and sometimes too hard, but mostly fair. He wasn’t always there, but then he covered a lot of territory before Collier Springs got their own office. He and mom were a unit… shit… are a unit.”

“I get it,” I reassured him.

“He wasn’t good when I came out. Took it badly. He’d seen some stuff and assumed it wouldn’t be easy for me.” Neil’s words trailed off when he was lost in the bad memories. “I always wanted to be a sheriff and follow in his footsteps. He thought that would never happen for me if I was out as gay.”

Listening, I tightened my hold on him, stroking his back in soothing circles. “But you proved him wrong,” I murmured, pride swelling in my chest for the man Neil had become.

“Yeah, I did,” he replied, a note of defiance threading through his fatigue. “My dad was a strong, confident man. A good dad, really, just … not at that moment. I miss him already.” I felt his chest rise and fall with a deep breath, the prelude to shared confidence. “When I was eight,” he began, his voice a gentle thread in the stillness, “my dad did this thing.”

My curiosity piqued, and I tightened my embrace, encouraging him to continue. “What?”

Neil’s smile was audible in his voice. “It was my eighth birthday, and I was completely obsessed with space—all the stars, planets, the whole universe. And my dad brought an astronomer from the local college to our house, with a real telescope and everything.”

“Seriously? That’s amazing,” I responded, impressed.

“It was,” he confirmed, his tone wistful. “We set up in the backyard as dusk turned to evening. Looking through that telescope for the first time, I saw the moon’s craters, Jupiter and its moons, and even Saturn’s rings. It was like the universe just opened up for me.”

I could almost see the awe on young Neil’s face, his world expanding beyond the confines of their small town. “What did your dad say about that?” I asked, my voice low in the quiet room.

“He didn’t say much then. He just stood by my side and watched. He told me later that seeing the excitement on my face was more thrilling than anything the telescope could show him.” Neil’s voice softened, filled with a fondness that seemed to smooth out the edges of his usual reserve.

“He sounds proud of you,” I murmured.

“He was. No, he is. He’s still in there, and I know he’s proud.” He paused for a moment. “That night, he wasn’t just the tough sheriff or the disciplinarian—he was justDad.” Neil’s breath was steady, and his body relaxed against mine as if the memory lent him peace.

The silence that followed was filled with our soft breathing, the night wrapping around us like a blanket. I thought about Garrett Windham, who I would never really know as the man he used to be, the indomitable force of a man who had shaped Neil for better or worse. It was a complex legacy, one Neil navigated with the grace and strength he’d inherited.

Neil’s breathing evened out, the tension easing from his body.

“It’s going to be okay,” I whispered into the darkness, unsure if I was comforting Neil or reassuring myself.

He shifted, his hand finding mine under the covers, squeezing it gently. “Yeah, it will be,” he whispered back, and at that moment, I believed it. Everything felt possible in this small, peaceful house with Neil by my side.

“Quinn talked to me today,” I began, and Neil let out a soft hum to let me know he was listening. “He’s thinking of working to set up a safe place for people caught up in cults. Maybe on Lennox Ranch, or maybe not, I don’t know.” There would be implications for the town if that was what was going to happen, and I was probably overstepping if Quinn hadn’t yet talked to the town representatives, Neil included.

“Sounds good,” Neil murmured, tired.

“Wants me to work with him.”

“Yeah?”

“Use my skills to help people get out.”

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