Page 40 of Fragile Sanctuary

Shep went quiet again. I couldn’t tell if it was because of surprise or him taking time to choose his next words carefully. “She was in the hospital for a month. Skin grafts, rehab, the works. Toughest person I know, fighting through that kind of pain.”

An invisible fist shoved against my chest. Twisted. “How old was she?”

“Just turned thirteen.”

So damn young. Way too young to endure that kind of loss and trauma. But I knew better than most that the Universe didn’t pull any punches when it came to pain. It could lash out when you least expected it. And take out the most undeserving in its wrath.

12

RHODES

A warm,furry body pressed against my leg as I sat perched on a stool at the Bloom counter. I looked down into pleading eyes. “Biscuit,” I warned. “Egg sandwiches are for people.”

He let out a short but piercing bark.

My eyes narrowed on him. “That is not how to get what you want.”

Biscuit plunked his butt on the floor, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

“That’s better.” I broke off a piece of bacon sticking out of my breakfast creation. “Down.”

Biscuit immediately dropped his belly to the concrete.

I let go of the piece of bacon, and the dog caught it easily.

“You’re going to give that dog bad manners,” a deep voice warned.

At the sound, Biscuit was instantly up, snarling and barking. He put his paws on the counter, trying to see overit to the other side.

Trace simply arched an eyebrow, his sheriff’s star shining as he shifted to get a better look. “At least you’ve got an early warning system now. Thinking about keeping this one?”

“I foster them. The whole point is to get them ready for their forever families.”

Trace leaned against the counter, his gaze still on Biscuit, who had finally stopped growling but was sticking close. “You don’t want to be a forever family?”

Twitchiness swept through me, but I did my best not to show it. Trace saw too much as it was. “I like helping them on their path. If I had a pet at home, they might not get along with my fosters. It could create all sorts of problems.”

Trace made a humming noise in the back of his throat.

“So,” I said, searching for something—anything—that would deflect Trace’s analytical focus on me. “You talk to Arden lately?”

I was the worst sister ever. Throwing Arden under the bus was lower than low. But everyone was always a little worried about her. Maybe because she was the youngest, maybe because of what she’d been through.

Trace stiffened. “Something wrong? Someone bothering her?—?”

I shook my head quickly. “No, no. Nothing like that.”Shit.I should’ve known our most protective sibling would freak. “I just haven’t seen her in a while. I need to go over there. Maybe I’ll bring her a plant.”

Trace relaxed, the tension bleeding out of his muscles. “You know you’re not going to see her unless you go over there.”

That was a bit of an exaggeration, but it was true that Arden rarely left the guesthouse on Cope’s massive property. She served as a sort of caretaker for the place while he was up in Seattle playing hockey, but it was a mostly made-up position. A way to give her someplace safe and quiet to make her art.

But she did venture out for family dinners or to go into town for supplies. Just not much else.

“I’ve been falling down on the whole sister gig,” I muttered.

Trace reached over, squeezing my shoulder. “Never. But you are falling down on letting us know what’s going on.”

It was my turn to stiffen.

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