Page 36 of Rescued By the Dog Trainer

The night moves past the window while the storm settles into a quiet snowfall.

I stay awake in the warm dark, listening to the wood crackle and pop in the iron stove.

In eleven years of military flight nursing, I learned to measure time in vitals and flight legs. Six hours to Ramstein. Eight hours to Andrews. Ten minutes to stabilize a chest tube before turbulence hits the flight deck. But lying here with Jason's hand anchored on my hip makes time lose its urgency.

His breathing stays slow and heavy. Every few minutes his thumb makes an unconscious movement against my skin, confirming I'm still beside him.

The weight of his arm feels real. The heat of his body feels permanent. For three years I carried two hundred and fourteen names in a locked drawer, waiting for one ending that would make the blood on my gloves mean something.

The ending might be right here in this room. All I have is a scar under my fingers in the dark.

The notebook can settle it. It sits in my nightstand drawer at Mabel's, under the Bible, five miles down a buried road. One page. One name. If the name is his, the song he hums is mine, and I'm the only one in this bed who knows it.

I lie still against his chest and want to be wrong.

I trace the line of his shoulder with my eyes to store every detail in my memory. The silver scar along his collarbone. The way his brow relaxes in sleep. The steady rise of his ribs with every breath.

When dawn hits the frosted window, the gray light turns the glass into silver. The wind outside drops to a low murmur against the eaves. The timber walls absorb the fire's last heat, keeping the room wrapped in quiet shelter. Every breath he takes against my shoulder grounds me deeper into the mattress.

I remain in place under the heavy quilts while the warmth soaks into my aching knee. Dawn is here. He's warm against my shoulder. Five miles down the mountain, a rubber band holds the answer shut.

TWELVE

Light

JASON

The morning light cuts through the frosted glass of the bedroom window, laying a pale yellow beam across the timber floor. Four feet of powder banks against the cedar siding outside to bury the lower fence rails of the training yard. The wood stove ticks in the corner while the iron cools down to an ember.

Juno lies curled at the foot of the bed against Maren's ankles. She stays still with her ears forward as she rests her muzzle on her paws in the warm darkness.

Maren sleeps with her forehead pressed against my collarbone. Her right arm rests over my ribs, with her bare hand resting over my chest as if keeping a grip on a static line.

The heat of her bare skin soaks into mine under three thick wool quilts. The scent of cedar, firelight, and the sweet heat of taking her apart twice last night fills the space under the heavy blankets.

I stay still under three layers of wool quilt. The noise in my head—the high turbine whine that usually starts before dawn—stays silent. For three winters I've built quiet like this for other people. I never planned on building any for myself.

Her eyelashes flutter against her cheek. She shifts her weight under the heavy covers, a quiet breath leaving her lips as her eyes open, clear and deep in the gray dawn light.

"Morning." I brush a loose strand of dark hair back from her temple, my thumb tracing the line of her cheek.

"Morning." Her voice is rough with sleep. She stays put as her palm rests flat against my chest over the steady thud of my heart.

I pull her flush against me, my hand sliding down her waist to lift her thigh over my hip. She gasps softly when I roll her onto her back under me, her hands tangling in my hair when I lower my mouth to hers.

The kiss is deep and unhurried—a tender morning contrast to the desperate wall-pinning heat of the night before. I shift between her thighs to press into her slick heat. She opens for me with a soft groan while her heels lock behind my calves to pull me in close. I push inside her inch by inch to give her time to stretch around me.

Our breathing turns heavy and slow in the quiet room. Every thrust is deliberate to fill her to the hilt. I drag my mouth from her lips and trace a trail of heat down the slope of her neck to the hollow of her collarbone. My teeth graze her skin before I move lower to take her peak into my mouth to suck hard.

Maren arches her back off the mattress. Her breath shatters into ragged gasps. My hands slide under her hips to lift her flush against me. The rhythm builds with steady depth, leaving no room for hesitation.

Her fingers dig into my shoulders. A breathless cry breaks from her lips while her core contracts around me in violent pulses. The impact shatters my restraint. I drive deep one last time and come hard inside her as the room spins away.

We collapse together on the mattress, clinging to each other under the heavy blankets while our lungs work to catch air.

"Now that's a proper way to start the day." I rest my chin on her bare shoulder, a slow grin pulling at my mouth. "Beats coffee by a mile."

"You're unbelievable." Maren laughs softly, a quiet sound against the dark room, and smacks my chest with the flat of her palm. "And Juno has been watching you for the last ten minutes."