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Morgan

Four Weeks Later

The Nashville hotel room feels different this time. Last time I was here, I hated Max Dalton.

Now...

Now I know him too well. The sound of his laugh. The shape of his mouth when he’s teasing. The way he watches me when I’m not looking.

And I can’t stop thinking about him.

Or how much I miss him.

I unzip my bag and start unpacking my competition outfit while remembering how he talked me into staying the whole week after that secret ice cream night. How Amanda covered for me without asking. How Max and I squeezed in "training sessions" that involved more kissing than actual dog work.

Max offered his place for my stay during the competition, but the Gaylord Opryland ’s closer to the venue—and Spooky’s already settled here.

Max texted me earlier wishing me good luck. He's doing press interviews all morning—something about the NHL's charity initiatives. We're supposed to meet for dinner, then tomorrow we both compete in the solo division.

Now he's texting again.

Max : May the best handler win. We both know who that is.

Me : Cocky much?

Max : Just confident in my partner.

Partner. The word shouldn't make my stomach flutter. But it does—because I know he means me, not Stanley.

Is he maybe thinking of letting me win?

Nah. He wouldn’t do that.

…Or would he?

It’s strange, going head-to-head with the guy I’ve been tangled up with all month. I bet half the people watching will assume we’ll just share the prize money if either of us wins solo.

They’re wrong.

I need to win.

For the van. For the clinic. For every dog I can’t save without it.

And Max? He doesn’t need the money. I think he’ll understand.

I'm hanging my dress for tomorrow's opening ceremony when my phone rings.

"Amanda?"

"Don't freak out."

I freak out. "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine. Just some tests at the hospital. Probably nothing."

"Probably nothing doesn't land you in the hospital. I'm coming—"

"No, you're not. The competition's tomorrow."

"Amanda—"

"Morgan, I swear if you bail on this, I'll—" She coughs. "Sorry. They want to check some blood work. Really, I'm okay—probably just a flare-up.”

Before I can argue, another call beeps through.

"Hold on," I tell her.

It's Katie, our receptionist. "Dr. Morgan? We need you. Highway accident, three dogs involved. One's in critical shape. I tried Dr. Amanda first—no answer."

My chest tightens.

“We need you. You’re the only one who can do this kind of field trauma, Dr. Morgan. The owner's hysterical."

I switch back to Amanda and tell her about Katie’s call. "Also, how bad are your tests?"

"Go save the dog," she says softly. "I'm not dying. That puppy might be."

"Amanda—"

"Morgan Elizabeth Bailey, if you come find me at the hospital instead of saving that dog, I will never forgive you." Another cough. "Besides, there will be other competitions anyway."

"The van money—"

"Ask Max."

"What?"

"He's rich—I mean, hockey players are millionaires, right? So he's doing this just for the fame, and he's already famous. And he loves you. Ask him to compete solo and donate the money if he wins."

"I can't—"

"Why not? He's a good guy, right? That's what you keep saying."

"Yes, but—"

"So he'll want to help. And if he doesn't..." She pauses. "Then maybe he's not who you thought."

My throat tightens. "I don't ask men for help."

"No, you just push them away before they can disappoint you." Her voice softens. "Take the leap, Morg. For once, let someone prove you wrong."

The words hit home. She's right—I've spent my whole life expecting men to fail me. Maybe it's time to give one a chance.

"Fine." I start throwing things in my bag. "But if this backfires—"

"Then I'll help you hide his body. Now go ask Max and then save that dog."

I text Otto about keeping Spookie until I return for the couples division—the dogs are already with him for pre-competition conditioning. His reply is instant.

Otto: Ja, of course. Zat's no problem.

Then I call Max.

"Hey beautiful," he answers. "Missing me already?"

"I need a favor."

I explain the situation. The dying dog. Amanda. I remind him about the van money. Then I take a leap and ask.

Silence.

"Max?"

"I can't."

I blink. I must’ve heard wrong.

My heart drops. "What?"

"The prize money—I can't give it away. I'm sorry."

"No, I get it." My voice turns cold. "Stupid me, thinking you actually cared about saving animals."

"It's not that simple. Someday you'll understand—"

"Understand what? That this was just a game to you? That when I actually needed something real—"

Silence.

“You asked if you could protect me,” I say, eyes glittering but dry. “You literally asked.”

I take a breath. “And I didn’t answer. Stupid me—I should’ve said yes. Then you wouldn’t have had an excuse not to be there for me when I asked.”

My voice cracks on the last word, but I don’t stop. “You know what? I think you wouldn’t have been there anyway. But it hurts more because you asked.”

“If I could—”

"Save it." I zip my bag. "I'll be back for the couples division. We can fake it for the cameras, win that money, split it like we planned. But whatever else was happening between us? It’s over.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“I have a dog to save.”

I hang up, my hands still shaking.

Amanda was wrong. Men don't change. They take what they want—your body, your heart, your trust—then show their true colors when it matters.

My phone buzzes with texts from Max. I ignore them all. I can’t deal with this now.

Focus on what matters , I tell myself, heading for my truck. Save the dog. That's what you do. That's what you're good at.

Everything else? Just another lesson learned.

But this one hurts more than I expected.

Because for a minute there, I actually believed...

No. Dogs don't lie. Dogs don't let you down.

Men? They always do.

I grip the steering wheel harder, pointing my truck toward home. Toward a dog who needs me. Toward the one thing I know for sure—some dreams aren't worth the heartbreak.

Even if this one felt different.

Even if he felt different.

Even if, for the first time in my life, I thought maybe...

But it doesn't matter now.

I have a life to save.

And a heart to unbreak.

At least I'm good at one of those things.