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Blake’s skin pricked as she went on and on about everything she had planned for him, and finally, his temper snapped. “I don’t want any exposure. I did what needed to be done, and that is it. I’m not a trained monkey to sing and dance for you or anyone else.”

“Kline!” Sparks barked. “My office.”

Eve stared at him as if he’d suddenly grown horns, and he couldn’t blame her. Most of his friends’ girlfriends thought he was this quiet, mild-mannered guy with a sad past.

That wasn’t the whole picture, though. He hated to be pushed and had a bit of a temper—even he could admit that. So did every guy here, and right then, Sparks and Martinez were watching him as if they wanted to unleash theirs on him.

He walked past Eve and Martinez, following Sparks into the office, and closed the door behind him.

Sparks’s thunderous expression had eased slightly, and he waved his hand. “Sit down.”

Blake did it, mostly because he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what Sparks had to say and he’d be less likely to throw a punch if he was sitting.

“I get that you don’t like being in the spotlight, but I’ve been getting questions from the higher-ups on whether or not you even belong here.”

Blake stiffened. “What does that mean? I’m here. I work with the kids and teach them how to train the dogs. Exactly what more do I need to be doing?”

“For starters, you’ve been at the program a year, and yeah, you help out, but if you haven’t noticed, our squads are getting bigger, and we actually need you to take on your own. And you need a dog, man. You need to at least pretend as if you give a damn about this place and want it to succeed. You’ve been going through the motions for a year, but it’s time to commit to something.”

The muscle under Blake’s eye ticked furiously. “What are you talking about? I’m committed. My apartment just won’t let me have dogs, is all.”

“You bitch and moan about that shit hole

all the time, but you won’t leave because I think you’re afraid to actually settle in here. As if your whole life is just temporary now, but eventually, man, you will meet someone new and things will be good—”

“I don’t need a life coach, Sparks.”

Sparks’s expression darkened. “Fine. As the director of Alpha Dog, I’m telling you that part of your job here is to train a dog to use for demonstrations. That your job means you do everything in your power to spread the word and make sure it succeeds. So, you’re going to suck it up and do the interview. You’re going to be charming and say whatever Eve wants you to. And, you’re going to start looking for a place that accepts dogs and get with the program, or the next time the general wants to transfer your ass, I won’t go to bat for you.”

“I never asked you to,” Blake snapped.

“You didn’t have to. We’re all friends, and we’ve been through a lot. But while the rest of us have been slowly putting our lives back together, you—”

Blake slammed his hand down on Sparks’s desk, cutting him off. He knew that he was disrespecting his friend and his boss, but at the moment, he wasn’t thinking rationally. He was thinking about the blood pounding in his ears and that Sparks and the rest of his friends couldn’t compare their baggage to his.

“Don’t try to act as if we’re all the same. Just because we were in group therapy together doesn’t mean you know how I feel or have any say on how I conduct my personal life. You want me to pretend I’m some perfect guy that saves lives and has nothing but patience, fine, I can play, but don’t start dictating how I choose to continue living after my wife was murdered.”

Sparks leaned across the desk, his dark gaze full of pity, and Blake hated him for it. “I’m not telling you that. I’m worried about you, as are the other guys. In fact, the general suggested you go back to mandatory therapy sessions three times a week—”

Blake shoved his chair back then. “I don’t need a fucking shrink. I’m not a head case.”

“No one is calling you that, Kline . . . Kline!”

Blake stormed out without looking back, needing to breathe more than anything.

Escaping to the kennels where they kept the dogs, he walked past several barking animals, pausing in front of a huge bloodhound mix named Charge, who bayed at him as he leaned against the fenced door. The black and tan dog had to weigh nearly a hundred and fifty pounds and was taller than a purebred. His fur was wiry, even on his long, droopy ears.

Sadly, the dog was yet another reminder of a past he’d rather leave buried.

When he’d first been offered the position at Alpha Dog, it had been based on his experience with search and rescue dogs, like the ones his dad had trained while Blake was growing up. He hadn’t worked with a dog in ten years, not since he was a senior in high school, but his dad was a trainer people had respected and loved. He’d been famous, winning national competitions, and Blake had been proud to learn from him.

His mother had been an elementary school teacher, but no less cherished by their small Texas town. They’d been driving home early from a weekend trip and been hit straight on by another car. They hadn’t even made it to the hospital alive. Blake had struggled for years to remember the last thing he’d said to either one of his parents, but he just couldn’t.

All he knew was, like with Jenny, he’d never imagined that the last time they spoke would be the final time.

Blake walked straight into an empty cage next to Charge and sat at the back, sucking in calming breaths as evenly as he could manage. The thought of going in to speak to someone one-on-one was worse than group therapy. At least in group, he could hide behind the guys who wouldn’t shut up.

One-on-one, the focus would be all on him.