"Aw. You saved his life."

"Yes. And then he saved mine several times over, so we were quite the pair."

"He saved your life?"

Dell gave a mirthless smile. "I was a sickly, skinny ten-year-old, and far too dark-skinned for the very white neighborhood we lived in. Bear proclaimed himself a brother-in-arms. He once scared off three kids who tried to drag me into an alley."

She was smiling. "Good. Did Bear live to a ripe old age?"

Dell bent over Rose. "I don't know. We had to give him away when we went to the first foster home."

"Oh," she breathed with a world of empathy in her voice. She slid a hand to his back, and then she set her head on his shoulder. "I hate how bad things were for you, Dell. I hate how hard your life was."

"It's not hard now."

He felt her smile against him and wanted to turn and pull her in close.

"Dell?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever think about what would happen if I stayed?"

He went still, something kicking in his gut hard. And if he was being honest with himself, it was both hope and fear. "I didn't know that was an option."

She shrugged but was just as still as him, as if she was waiting for a certain reaction from him.

But which reaction exactly, he wasn't sure.

Then Rose whined and began to rustle frantically around, staring wide-eyed and terrified up at Dell. He rubbed her sides. "First one's coming."

Jade straightened but kept her face averted. Still, it didn't take a genius to tell that his nonreaction had been the wrong one. "How can you tell?" she asked.

Rose grunted, and the first puppy slid out.

"Well, that's a clue," she said.

Dell waited to see if Rose would lick and tear the amniotic sack off, but she seemed confused and unsure so Dell gently tore the membrane and allowed the fluid to be released. Rose dutifully took over bathing the newborn with her tongue while Dell tied off the cord and made sure the puppy was breathing.

Things moved quickly after that. Three more healthy puppies in a row, and then one that wasn't moving. Dell wrapped the puppy in a small warmed towel and dried it aggressively, trying to stimulate it so it would cry. Crying was the natural way to clear the mouth and trachea of amniotic fluid.

But the puppy didn't draw air.

"Oh no," Jade breathed, leaning over him. "Is she going to make it?"

Dell worked the puppy for over a half hour, but it was no good. There was no heartbeat. And when Rose started to push again, he set the wrapped stillborn down to help her.

Twenty minutes later, Dell had helped extract all the stragglers. One by one he and Jade dried the pups with sterile towels, cleared their mouths and set them back next to Rose to keep them warm. When Rose was alert and starting to nurse, Dell went to his office to call Michelle and fill her in.

By the time he finished and went back to check on Rose, it was nearly four in the morning. Not sure where Jade was, he picked up the stillborn and moved out the back door to sit on the top step with her, staring out into the black sky.

Adam showed up with a quiet greeting for Jade as he leaned over her and looked into the box. The corners of his mouth quirked at the blind, soggy puppies nuzzled up against Rose. His sharp, dark eyes counted them up. "Six."

"Seven. We lost one."

Adam let out a breath, barely discernible, but she was learning to read him now. Grief for the one they'd lost.

"Where's Dell?" he asked.

"He went to call Michelle."

Adam was quiet a moment, stroking Rose. "He takes it hard. Losing them. Always did."

"He feels things," Jade said. "Deeply."

"Deeper than the rest of us. Always did that, too. Along with the whole saying good-bye issue."

Jade met his gaze. "Good-bye issue?"

"Doesn't like 'em. In fact, he'll go out of his way to avoid them."

"Meaning?"

"Love isn't real, at least not the kind you get from people. Never get too close, leave 'em smiling . . ."

She inhaled. "But leave 'em."

He nodded. "So you do understand him."

All too well. But there was something in Adam's voice she'd never heard before.

Protectiveness.

Dell might be a grown man, but Adam was the older brother, if only by two years. "He has seen more than his fair share of good-byes," she said softly. He and Adam both had.

"And he makes sure to say them first if he can," Adam said. "But the animals are different. He'd never leave an animal first, never."

"He doesn't blame himself, does he?"

"Not for the animals, no."

Jade stood up and brushed off, wanting to go find him. "Are you saying he blames himself for all the human good-byes in his life? None of them were his fault."

Adam lifted a shoulder. "You know that self-blame isn't logical."

Yes, she knew. She knew exactly. She'd been blaming herself for a year and a half for the attack that hadn't been her fault.

"Our dad died in a car accident on the way to a job he hated with a passion but kept to provide a roof over our heads. Sol died while riding broncos on a day that Dell had missed his competition. Then I left him to go off to the National Guard because there was nothing other than jail in my future if I stayed. And you-"

"That's all ridiculous," she said. "Not a single one of those things were his fault. And me . . ." She wasn't sure she'd ever heard Adam string so many words together at once, but when he did, he packed a punch. "What about me?"

Adam didn't answer.

"He's not blaming himself for me leaving," she said slowly. "I was always going to go."

Adam just looked at her from those dark, dark eyes.

She stared at him some more, feeling her heart quicken as she took in everything that he wasn't putting to words. "I'm not abandoning him. We're not . . . He and I . . ."

One of the puppies mewled and Adam stroked a finger over the tiny body, whispering something softly to it until it stilled.

"I mean, it's not like we're . . ." Jade broke off.

"You're smart," Adam said in the same soothing voice he'd just used on the puppy. It was shockingly effective. "You'll catch up eventually."

Oh God. She was pretty sure she'd done that now. Just because she and Dell had never put a label on their relationship didn't mean that it didn't exist. Of course it did. True, it was different from any other relationship she'd ever had. It was also true that there'd never been a man in her life who could drive her crazy in one moment and then make her tremble in the next like he could. He was her best friend. Her lover.

And she was desperately afraid he had become much more than that.

But just because she understood that didn't mean he did. "He doesn't do relationships," she said. "You know that." And she was discovering something that she hadn't known about herself-she liked him too much to do anything less. Too bad she had no idea what to do with that.

"So you really are going."

"I always was." What she didn't say was that her own reservations about leaving were keeping her up at night. But given Dell's reaction-or lack of-to her trying to talk to him about it, it didn't matter all that much. "It's not like I'm suddenly abandoning him because we didn't work out. We did work out, as much as he allowed us to. We both knew this was coming." She stood up. "I'm going to go find him."

He wasn't in his office or anywhere that she could see, but the back door was ajar. She found Dell on the top step in the dark night, his big body hunched protectively over a small, still bundle in his hands.

Heart squeezing, she sat at his side. "Hey." She nudged him gently with her shoulder, and he nudged back but said nothing.

"Rose is okay," she said quietly.

"Good."

"And now I'm wondering about you. Are you okay, too?"

"I just always take a minute with them. Afterward." His voice low and a little raspy, like it hurt him physically to lose any animal, no matter how short a time he'd known them.

He hadn't taken his hands or his eyes off the carefully wrapped puppy, and Jade couldn't take her eyes off of him. Without being consciously aware of moving, she scooted closer, setting her head on his shoulder.

For a moment he didn't move, then slowly he shifted and leaned into her. She slipped her arm around his waist and he shifted even more, turning into her, pressing his face to the crook of her neck.

She went still as her heart squeezed. Always it'd been him offering her comfort, safety, whatever she needed, but now for the first time he was taking those things from her.

She didn't dare move, not even when her toes and fingers and nose and nipples got so cold she could no longer feel them. In fact, she wanted to never move again. She wanted to preserve this quiet closeness between them that felt almost more intimate than when they'd been naked.

But Dell pulled back and straightened. "You're frozen. Get back inside."

He was already regretting the brief moment of weakness. If she wasn't still so touched that he'd trusted her enough to see it, she'd have rolled her eyes at the utter manness of the move. "Dell-"

"I've just got to take care of him first, then I'll be right behind you." He stood and pulled her up.

"Need help?" she asked, knowing what he'd say even before he shook his head with a quiet thanks and vanished.

She went back inside, looking around at the animal center that was as much a part of him as any of his long, perfect limbs. It was a visceral reminder how much more than a good-time, funny, charming guy he was. He had this huge capacity to care, and something else, too.

He hadn't just picked a job for himself the way most people did. The way she had. He hadn't let other people's wants and goals guide him.

The way she had.

No, not Dell. He'd instead chosen a life that suited him to the core. One that gave him pleasure and was an innate part of him.

She hadn't done that. Not until she'd come here, to Sunshine. To Belle Haven. She went to her desk thinking she was here, she might as well get something done. She'd barely booted up in the semidark front room when Dell came back through.

"You're not working," he said.

"Well, I-"

He pulled her out of her chair. "You're going home to bed."

Back to being the alpha pack leader. "I'm okay, Dell. What we haven't established is if you're okay."

He didn't move but she felt him draw in a deep breath. "Why wouldn't I be?"

She wanted to say because he acted like he was all alone in charge of everyone and everything, when in reality, the people he had in his life wanted to take care of him every bit as much as he took care of them. She wanted to say how sorry she was for how he'd grown up, but that would go over about as well as hugging him right now would.

Screw it, she thought, and ran a hand up his arm, over his broad shoulder, over his throat to his jaw, which she brushed with her fingers.

Reaching up, he took her hand in his and squeezed her fingers gently, then brought them to his mouth and lightly brushed his lips over her palm. "I'm okay, Jade. I'm always okay. You don't have to worry about me."

She stepped into him, her breasts brushing his chest, their thighs touching. "Did you always know?" she asked quietly. "That you were meant for this?"

Bending his head, he lightly rubbed his lips to hers. "Kissing you?"

"Yes," she murmured. "No." She let out a low laugh and stepped back. "No." God, he was good, too good, at distracting her. "At this. Your job. Being a vet."

"Actually, for most of my growing up years, I was pretty sure I was meant for nothing good."

She opened her mouth to vehemently oppose that but he kissed her again. "I'm lucky, Jade," he said against her mouth, his hands going to her hips to hold her against him. "I didn't get screwed up, at least not too bad. I might be commitment shy and not big on traditional relationships, but thanks to Sol, I got into college and figured my shit out and ended up with a skill that works for me."

"And it's a bonus that you love what you do."

"Yeah. A lot. I highly recommend it."

"Working with animals?"

"Loving what you do."

She lifted her head and looked at him as he stroked his fingers over her jaw and into her hair, which he tugged lightly so that she couldn't pull away. "You ever going to try it?" he asked, his mouth whispering over hers.