I'm Bryce. I'm the county sheriff, and I have pulled men out of burning trucks without my hands shaking once. That morning I couldn't work the radio.
The call came at 4:12. The old tide bridge had dropped its whole middle span into the river, and there was a car down in the water.
Colm: Sheriff. Stay back behind the tape.
Colm has worked beside me nine years, and he has never once told me to stay back.
The car sat nose down in the black water with the current leaning on it, and the whole river looked like it wanted to keep it.
Colm: Plate comes back to Anwen.
He said it soft, like soft would help.
Colm: Bryce. I'm sorry.
I went down the bank past the divers. Water came into my boots and my pants, and I kept going, because moving was the only thing keeping me upright.
They had her on a stretcher under a gray blanket. That was all. Just a gray blanket with a small shape under it.
One hand had slid out from under the edge. Her plain gold ring was still on it, turned a little to the side, the way she always wore it.
Bryce: That's her. That's my wife.
My voice came out flat and wrong, like it belonged to a man standing behind me.
A man behind the tape in a wet coat said the bridge had been rotten for years, everybody knew it, and maybe she should have looked where she was driving.
I don't remember crossing the mud. I remember his collar in my fists.
Bryce: Say one more fucking word about my wife.
Bryce: Say it. I'll put you in that river and nobody will find the rest of you.
Colm got his arms around me and pulled me back, and I let him, and that was somehow the worst part.
Bryce: Get off me. Fuck. Get off.
By noon the whole county knew. By six I sat in my own driveway with both hands on the wheel, and I could not make myself open the door.
The kitchen light was on and the woman who watched the girls was at the stove. She started to tell me how sorry she was, and I walked past her like she was furniture.
Marla was on the floor in her yellow raincoat with a puzzle half done. Minta stood in her red boots with her arms crossed, like she already knew.
Marla: Papa, where's Mama?
Seven years old, and her voice was so small I felt it in my teeth.
I got down on my knees so I could be the same height as them. I was not going to say it looking down at my daughters.
Bryce: Come here. Both of you.
Minta: She's coming home, right?
Bryce: Your mama's gone.
Bryce: There was an accident on the bridge last night and she didn't make it. She's dead, girls. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
Minta said no and kept saying no. Marla made a sound I will hear until the day I die, then she climbed into my lap and held my face so I couldn't look away.
Bryce: Listen to me. You are my girls. Not the pack's, not the county's. Mine.
Bryce: I will keep you safe, and I will be here, and I will not leave you. I swear it on her ring.
My wolf wanted to go down under the house and howl until the boards came apart. I held him still and kept my voice low and kept my hands on my daughters.
I have power in this county. Men stand up when I walk into a room. It meant nothing on that kitchen floor, where I did not even know how to fix a braid.
Anwen was the one who knew what to do. Now it's me.
Just me. God help them, just me.