She gave an exaggerated sigh of relief. “I forgot to ask before we started for home. I have a dog. He’s extremely . . . enthusiastic.”

Michael eagerly stepped around her, then laughed when a golden retriever crawled across the floor on its belly, commando-style, its tail wagging triple time.

She shook her head, smiling at the dog. “I told him ‘down’ and he knows hand signs.” She showed Michael the correct sign, then shrugged. “Technically, he’s still down, but he’s very excited to meet new people, so he crawls like that.”

Michael dropped to his knees, patting his thighs, laughing again when the dog bounded to him. A second later his face was getting bathed by the dog’s tongue. He buried his face in its soft coat and hugged its neck.

“He smells good.”

“He should. He had an appointment with the groomer today. She has one of those vans that comes to your house. We’re friends, so I gave her the key. She takes Hawkeye into her salon and makes him beautiful.”

Him. The dog was male. And named Hawkeye. “You named him after the Avenger?” he asked. The hard-of-hearing Avenger who wore hearing aids. It was the name he’d have chosen for a dog if he ever got one of his own.

“I did. I’ve been deaf in one ear since I was born. I thought Hawkeye was a great name for my dog, even though he has amazing hearing.” She leaned down to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “Right, boy?” She looked over her shoulder and signed the dog back to the down position. The dog instantly obeyed, but its tail never stopped wagging.

Coach Diesel was coming through the door, Joshua tucked into his big arms, the little boy still asleep. Dr. Dani quietly closed the front door after him, looking at the dog with her finger pressed to her lips. She pointed Coach toward the stairs, then gestured for Michael to follow her. He did, Hawkeye scrambling to walk at his side.

Dr. Dani had a room for each of them. Nice rooms with soft beds. Posters on the walls. Everything looked new. And safe. She pulled the blanket on the bed back and Coach put Joshua in it so gently that Michael’s throat hurt. No one was gentle with Joshua. No one but me.

He lifted his eyes toward the ceiling. Thank you, he thought. If there was a God, he should be thanked, because this day could have ended up so much worse. Yes, the cops had talked to him about Brewer’s murder, but he’d had a fancy lawyer and Coach and Dr. Dani hadn’t left his side. The cops seemed to believe him. He wasn’t in juvie, so he called that a win.