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L ynda checked her watch and yawned. It was just after one o’clock in the morning. Outside, the storm that had hit Sapphire Bay wasn’t as wild as it had been, but rain still fell heavily against the clinic’s metal roof.

Inside, the clinic hummed with the reassuring sound of the emergency generator. It kept the essential equipment running despite the power outage that had plunged most of the town into darkness.

Lynda carefully cradled the smallest puppy against her chest while recording the animal’s vitals in a notebook. With a white patch on her chest, she’d nicknamed the female pup Star.

All five wolfdog puppies had been cleaned, warmed, and fed, but they still had a long way to go until they were healthy. “Star’s temperature is still a little low,” she murmured, frowning at the thermometer. “It’s better than before, but not where I’d like it to be.”

Matt looked up from the examination table where he was checking another puppy’s gums. “Their glucose levels are improving, at least. The formula seems to be agreeing with them.”

Lynda nodded, gently placing Star back in the incubator they’d set up. She adjusted the warming pad beneath the tiny body, making sure it provided even heat. The puppy curled into a tight ball, its breathing quick but steady.

“They’re all underweight,” she observed, moving to help Matt with his assessment. “I’d guess they weren’t getting enough milk even before their mother died. She might have been injured earlier than we thought.”

“I agree,” Matt said. He handed her a clipboard with the chart he’d been compiling. “I’ve calculated their weights against standard wolfdog development charts. They’re about three weeks old but developmentally closer to two weeks.”

Working together, they reassessed each puppy’s condition, checking for signs of dehydration, testing reflexes, and listening to the little hearts and lungs.

All five puppies were still malnourished and suffering from mild hypothermia, but didn’t have any underlying conditions that would prevent them from recovering.

Matt washed his hands, and then dried them on a paper towel. “Until we find more volunteers, it’s just us to look after them. We could take shifts—one of us resting while the other monitors the pups. There’s a cot in my office. It’s not the Ritz, but it’s comfortable enough for a few hours’ sleep.”

“I’ve slept in worse places during emergency calls,” Lynda assured him with a smile. “Remember, I’ve worked at a practice that specialized in large animals. I once spent the night in a barn during a blizzard, helping a horse through a difficult labor.”

Matt smiled back. “I’ve had my share of those nights, too. I can take the first shift.”

A timer beeped, letting them know it was time for another round of feedings.

Lynda stretched. “I’ll help with this meal and then get some sleep.”

“Sounds good to me.” Matt prepared the bottles of special formula while Lynda carefully lifted two puppies out of the incubator.

“I’ll take those two,” Matt said. He settled into a chair holding a puppy in each arm, and expertly positioned the tiny bottles.

Lynda smiled as she lifted another pup out of the incubator. There was something endearing about seeing Matt holding the puppies and coaxing them to feed. As a flash of lightning illuminated the clinic, she sat opposite Matt.

“The generator should hold,” he said, noticing her glance toward the window. “It’s never failed me yet.”

“This reminds me of hurricane season in Florida,” Lynda said as she gently encouraged one of the puppies to suckle. “I spent a year at a wildlife rehab center in the Everglades right after vet school. We’d be up all night during storms, making sure the animals were safe and calm.”

“Did you go to Denver after that?” Matt asked.

Lynda nodded. “I was offered a job I couldn’t refuse. At the time, I was specializing in exotic animals. The clinic needed someone with my training, and the pay was good. I meant to stay a year or two, but then I met Ray, and...” She shrugged. “Life happened.”

Matt nodded, understanding in his eyes. “That’s how it goes sometimes. One decision leads to another, and suddenly, you’re on a path you never planned.”

“What about you?” Lynda asked, carefully shifting the puppy in her arms to a more comfortable position. “Did you always want to practice in a small town?”

A shadow crossed Matt’s face. “I had a thriving practice in Seattle before moving here. Maria—my wife—was born in Sapphire Bay. We came back to be closer to her family when she got sick.”

Lynda looked up, surprised. “I didn’t know you’d practiced somewhere else.”

“I worked in Seattle for twenty years,” Matt confirmed. “Large clinic, six vets, all the latest equipment. It was very different from here.”

“Do you miss it?”

Matt considered the question. “Sometimes I miss the resources. The specialists were a phone call away, and the advanced diagnostic tools were better than I can provide.” He glanced around the small, simple clinic. “But I’ve never regretted the move. This clinic and the town suit me better.”

The puppy in Matt’s left arm finished its bottle, and he expertly shifted it to his shoulder, patting gently to release any air bubbles. “Maria used to help me in the clinic when she wasn’t teaching,” Matt said quietly. “She was brilliant with the animals.”

Lynda felt a tightening in her chest at the love and respect in his voice. “You must have made a great team.”

“We did,” Matt agreed. “When she was diagnosed with cancer, we sold the practice and moved back here. I opened this clinic so I could work flexible hours and be with her during treatments.” He sighed.

“She worked at the elementary school for a year before it became too much. After that, she insisted on helping at the clinic whenever she had good days, right up until the end.”

“I’m sorry,” Lynda said softly, meaning it. “How long were you together?”

“Twenty-eight years.” Matt’s smile was sad but genuine. “Not nearly long enough.”

They fed the puppies in comfortable silence for a few minutes, each lost in their thoughts.

“What about you and Ray?” Matt asked eventually. “How long were you married?”

“Thirty years,” Lynda replied, surprised at how distant that life now seemed. “We met at a conference. He was brilliant and charismatic. Everyone wanted his attention, but somehow, he noticed me.”

“Of course he noticed you,” Matt said with unexpected firmness. “You’re extraordinary, Lynda. Anyone would notice you.”

The sincere compliment caught her off guard, and warmth rose to her cheeks. “Well, he certainly didn’t think so by the end of our marriage,” she said, trying to lighten the moment. “He traded me in for a younger model.”

“His loss,” Matt said.

Their eyes met over the tiny creatures in their arms, and Lynda felt something shift between them—a deepening of the connection that had been building since the first day they’d met at the shelter.

Here in this quiet clinic, surrounded by the storm outside and the gentle sounds of the puppies, she felt strangely at home.

“We should get these little ones back in the incubator,” she said, breaking the moment before it became too intense. “And we need to set up a feeding schedule.”

Matt nodded, standing carefully with the puppies in his arms. “I’ll wake you in three hours.”

“I’m not tired yet,” Lynda protested. “Why don’t you rest first? I’m still too wired from the rescue.”

Matt studied her face, then conceded. “All right. Wake me up in three hours or if you need anything. Anything at all.”

After they’d settled the puppies back in the incubator, Matt showed her where everything was—extra formula, clean bottles, and medical supplies. He grabbed a blanket from a cabinet and hesitated at the door to his office.

“I’m glad you were here tonight, Lynda. I couldn’t have done this alone.”

“Yes, you could have,” she replied honestly. “But I’m glad I was here too.”

After Matt disappeared into his office, Lynda settled into the chair beside the incubator, a cup of fresh coffee warming her hands.

She watched the rise and fall of five tiny chests, each breath a small victory against the odds.

Outside, the storm continued to rage, but it couldn’t touch the calm center she’d found here.

Lynda thought about what Matt had told her.

His wife had been his partner in every sense.

They’d built a wonderful life together, and his career had given him something to focus on after her death.

It explained so much about him. The wedding ring he still wore, the slightly distant look that sometimes crossed his face, and the dedication to this small-town clinic that seemed beyond professional duty.

She understood loss—the way it reshapes you, and forces you to rebuild around an absence. But Matt had done more than survive his wife’s death. He’d honored her memory by staying here, by helping the community in a place she’d loved.

There was something beautiful in that, Lynda thought. Something worth admiring.

Star, the smallest puppy, whimpered softly, and Lynda immediately reached in to check on her. Her tiny body was warmer now, and her heartbeat was stronger. Lynda smiled, gently stroking the fuzzy head with one finger.

“Be strong,” she whispered.

As the hours passed, Lynda continued to check on the puppies. Occasionally, she’d glance toward the closed office door, thinking about the man resting beyond it, and wonder at the strange turns life could take.

Three months ago, she’d come to Sapphire Bay for a brief reunion with her friends. Now, here she was, in the middle of a storm, helping save orphaned wolfdog puppies alongside a man who was quickly becoming far more than just a colleague.

Lynda sighed. This was one time when the life she’d never planned turned out to be exactly where she needed to be.