And there he was — Max. Her mother’s old K-9 partner. He was the last real piece of her mom left.
Not a memory, not a photograph. Max — a little grayer around the snout, eyes sharp and steady. He sat calm and still, but his tail barely moved. His gaze swept the crowd once before locking on Lily. She felt a chill ripple through her. For months now, she had only felt alive at night, whispering to Max through the fence behind the station long after everyone else had left.
She’d tell him what she couldn’t tell anyone else — how much it hurt, how she still waited for her mom to come home. Max never responded, but he listened. That was enough.
A cheerful man in a blue suit stepped forward. “Today, folks, a little piece of Willow Creek history! Our own Max, five years of loyal service, now retiring after Officer Parker’s passing.”
“He’s ready for a new home. Let’s show him some love!”
