Page 104 of Hidden & Held
Phoenix makes shushing noises as she rubs soothing circles on his back. “Don’t worry, we will find her. Promise.”
Liam nods, leaning back and trying to put on a brave face. He reaches for her hand, and she grips it tightly with hers. I haven’t seen her with children before. Something about it catches in my chest.
“Liam!” Lena rushes out behind a smoked-meat booth, a young firefighter in lockstep. She drops to her knees and instantly squeezes her son tight.
“Mommy! I’m sorry, I saw a corgi puppy and I followed it. She gave me lots of kisses, and when I looked up, I realized I wasn’t where I last saw you.”
“I understand; don’t do it to me again.” She squeezes her eyes shut, locking back the tears.
“I’m glad you found your boy. I better be getting back to our own booth.” The fireman leans down, getting eye-level with Liam. “Hey little dude, don’t scare your mom like that again, yeah?”
“I didn’t mean to, but it was a corgi!”
The fireman chuckles. “I get it, they are cute dogs. But your mom was worried.”
“I know, I won’t.”
The fireman holds out his fist and Liam bumps it proudly.
“Take care, hope to see you around,” he proclaims to Lena with a heated glance.
She pulls Liam closer into her side, the way mothers do when relief and frustration arrive at the same time and relief wins. Then she looks up, spotting me for the first time.
“Mr. Mercer.”
“Ms. Castellanos.” I nod. “How are things?”
She straightens slightly and tips her head to the side. “Better.” She glances at Liam briefly before continuing. “With the immigration attorney you recommended taking my immigration case on a pro-bono basis. The path to full citizenship is clear now that the account situation has been formally resolved.” She turns to Phoenix. “And Victor left Cascadia two weeks ago. The documentation that surfaced gave him strong reason to go quietly. So between you two, things are genuinely looking up.” She smiles genuinely.
“Good.” Phoenix reaches out and squeezes her hand. “You two deserve to breathe easy.” Lena gives her one more squeeze, and they meander off toward the hatchet-throwing booth, which is conspicuously close to the fire truck.
As we watch them disappear into the crowd, a seventy-pound yellow Labrador comes through the festival at full speed, ears back, tongue sideways, heading directly for the smoked meat stand with single-minded purpose.
“Biscuit, NO—”
The dog clips the edge of Phoenix’s knee, and she tilts sideways. My arm is around her before I consciously decide to move.
She lands against my chest, one hand gripping my forearm, the other finding my shoulder. The momentum carries us into something almost like a dip—her weight back, my arm across her waist, both of us slightly suspended by the near-miss.
She looks up at me as I look down at her, the world fading into the background. Her hair has moved slightly astray at her temple, cheeks pink from the evening air, and she is smiling at me the way she sometimes did before everything fell apart. The real one.
“I got you, Sugar.”
“I know,” she answers on instinct, not moving from my arms.
Her breath hitches slightly as my eyes drop to her lips without my permission. I feel her fingers tighten fractionally on my forearm.
A flash of light goes off directly beside us.
I blink. Phoenix blinks.
“Perfect.”
Turning, we see a woman wearing a yellow lanyard already reviewing the image on her camera with a satisfied expression.
“That is going straight into the newsletter,” she announces giddily. “I don’t even need to edit it.”
I straighten Phoenix carefully back to her feet as she smooths the front of her dress.
