"I, uh..." I clear my throat. "This is Maverick. He's eight weeks old. German Shepherd. Smart breed. Good temperament."
"I can see that." She hasn't moved from the doorway. "Why is he in my clinic?"
"He's a new recruit," I say. "For the Iron Creek K9 program."
Her expression doesn't change. "Congratulations."
"He needs a vet." I take a breath. "Someone who knows working dogs. Someone who can train him right. Someone who..."
"Dean."
"Hear me out," I say quickly. "Please."
The please does it. She nods once, arms still crossed, but she nods.
Maverick chooses that moment to flop onto his back, exposing his belly and looking ridiculously adorable. Little traitor's working the room better than I am.
"I was wrong," I start. The words I've practiced feel clumsy now, but I push through. "About everything. The way I asked you—no, scratch that—the way I told you to come to Texas. Like it was simple. Like you'd just pack up your whole life because I wanted you to."
Callie's jaw tightens, but she doesn't interrupt.
"I didn't ask. I assumed. I made it about what I wanted, what I needed, and I didn't stop to think about what you'd be giving up. Your clinic. Your life here. Everything you've built." I run a hand through my hair. "I'm really good at making plans. Flight plans, mission plans, five-year career plans. But I'm shit at asking people what they want to be part of those plans."
"Dean—"
"I'm not finished." The words come faster now, easier. "I talked to Jake. My brother. Told him I couldn't come back to Iron Creek if it meant losing you. And you know what he said?"
She shakes her head.
"He said I'm an idiot." I laugh, but it comes out rough. "He said there's room for both of us. That the business needs a good vet more than it needs another handler. That if I showed up without you, he'd kick my ass from Texas back to Colorado."
Callie's arms loosen slightly. "Your brother said that?"
"Well, the ass-kicking part is implied, but yeah." I take a step closer. Maverick waddles after me, tail still wagging. "I don't want Iron Creek without you, Callie. I don't want the uniform without you. I don't want any of it if it means not having this—us—whatever this could be."
"This has been a week," she says quietly. "Not even. How do you know?—"
"Because I know what it feels like to want something and not have it." I meet her eyes. "I know what it's like to make the safe choice, the smart choice, the one that makes sense on paper. I've been doing it my whole career. And then you showed up and made me want something I couldn't plan for. Something that scared the hell out of me."
She's watching me like I'm a puzzle she's trying to solve.
"I'm not asking you to give up your life," I say. "I'm asking if you want to build a new one. With me. Not me first and you following. Together. Partners."
The silence stretches. Maverick sits down on my foot and starts gnawing on my shoelace.
"Say something," I finally add. "Even if it's no. Especially if it's no. Just?—"
"I was scared," Callie interrupts.
I shut my mouth.
"When you asked me to come to Texas, I panicked." She uncrosses her arms, one hand rubbing her opposite elbow. "Because I wanted to say yes. I wanted it so badly it terrified me. And that's not—that's not how I make decisions. I'm careful. Methodical. I don't just uproot my life for a guy I've known for a week."
"But?"
"But safe isn't happy." She takes a breath. "And I've been choosing safe for a long time. So long I almost forgot what it felt like to want something enough to risk it."
Hope flares in my chest, sharp and bright.
