"I go home. To Texas. To Iron Creek." He stops pacing, turns to face me. "Wade needs help with the business. They're expanding. Two new huge contracts, training programs, security details. It's good work. Important work."
"That sounds great, Dean. Really."
"It is. It's everything I've been trying to figure out." He crosses the kitchen in three strides, taking my hands. "Either way, I won't be in Pine Valley."
There it is. The inevitable ending I should have seen coming.
"I understand," I say, and I'm already pulling my hands back, already building walls. "It was fun while it lasted."
"No." His grip tightens. "That's not—Callie, I want you to come with me."
I don't understand at first. Like he's speaking a language I almost recognize but can't quite translate.
"Come with you," I repeat slowly.
"To Iron Creek." He's talking faster now, words tumbling over each other. "I talked to Jake yesterday. He said they need a vet. A good one. Someone who understands working dogs, who can handle behavioral consultation, training protocols, the whole operation. You'd be perfect."
My brain short-circuits somewhere around "I talked to Jake."
"You talked to your brother."
"Yeah, he called yesterday morning and I mentioned?—"
"You mentioned me. To your brother. About moving to Texas. About changing my entire career."
"I wanted to know if it would work. Logistically. Before I?—"
"Before you asked me?" My voice is too calm. Dangerously calm. "You made plans. With your family. About my life. Without talking to me first."
He blinks. "I wasn't making plans, I was just?—"
"What were you doing, Dean?" I step back, needing space. "What exactly did you tell Jake?"
He runs a hand through his hair. "That I met someone. That you're a vet. That you might be interested in?—"
"Might be interested in abandoning my practice, my home, my entire life to follow a man I've known for less than two weeks to Texas?"
"It's been longer than two weeks."
"Thirteen days." The number comes out sharp. "I've known you for thirteen days."
"Time doesn't matter when?—"
"Time absolutely matters."
We're both breathing hard now, facing each other across my kitchen like we're on opposite sides of something unfixable.
"I thought you'd be excited," he says, and he sounds genuinely confused. "This is perfect. We'd be together. You'd have challenging work, resources you don't have here, a whole operation to build from the ground up. It's everything you love."
"What I love," I say carefully, "is my practice. The one I built. Here. In Pine Valley. My friends. My community. The life I chose."
"You could build another one."
"In Texas," I say flatly.
"Yes."
"Where your family is."
