Mason rolls his eyes and takes a swig of Jacob’s beer. “Don’t tempt me.”

Dean gives Rory a quick kiss goodbye and the three of us set out, stepping into the night. It’s cool tonight, the air still holding onto the chill from the storm. Lights loom up ahead, and the horses in the pasture next to us stir, nickering softly in hopes someone will bring them food. I grew up with livestock and might have been the reigning 4H Champion in the cattle project for three years in a row.

That life is far behind me now, but it comes rushing back fast. Both Mom and Dad were softies, as Rory put it, and couldn’t say no when Jacob would bring home an injured animal. When I was in fifth grade and wanted a dog, Dad took me to the animal shelter and we left with three pitbull puppies. We had horses and llamas through my childhood, and in the back of my mind, I assumed I might end up back here whenever I had kids of my own, giving them a similar childhood.

Jacob punches in the security code and lets us into the clinic, flicking on the lights.

“Wow,” Rory tells him, looking around. It’s the first time either of us has set foot in this new building. “It’s gorgeous!”

“Thanks,” Jacob says, hurrying to get into the back. Rory and I might not treat animals, but we get it. The rushed panic that’s more productive than not. It’s like a switch is flipped and you’re in emergency-mode. We start prepping the OR, which is similar in more ways than I thought to the operating rooms I’m used to, though it’s lacking several machines for obvious reasons.

“Can one of you get that?” Jacob asks when someone knocks on the glass doors at the front of the clinic.

“I got it,” I say, carefully setting a set of clean surgical tools down. I’m still in my jeans and a t-shirt, a far cry from what I’m used to wearing when I’m putting my patients to sleep, managing not only their pain but their overall vitals.

Two people stand by the front doors, and a large dog is wrapped up in a blanket, weight supported by both women. I twist back the lock and let them in.

“Thank you so much,” the woman rushes out. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a messy bun, and mascara runs down her cheeks from her tears. “Oh, you’re…you’re not Dr. Harris.”

“I actually am,” I say, helping the two women inside. “I’m his brother.”

“Oh,” the woman says, struggling to hold back tears. “Is he here?”

“Yeah, he’s getting ready for…” I look at the dog, who looks like some sort of golden retriever mix. Blood is soaking through the purple blanket he’s wrapped in, and he’s in bad shape.

“Tigger,” the woman answers, tears rolling down her face.

“Let me help you,” I tell them and take Tigger from her arms, carrying him into the back. Jacob and Rory are in the surgery room. I bring the dog in and lay him on the table. Jacob gets right to work, and I help get the dog put under. The dog has an obvious broken leg and probably a ton of internal damage.

“I can tell you two are brothers,” the crying blonde woman says when I come out of the room. Two vet techs responded to the emergency call, and Rory is staying in to assist if need be. “You look alike.”

“I’m better-looking,” I say with a wink, and she smiles.

“Are you a vet too?” she asks, looking through the window at her dog.

“No, I’m an anesthesiologist.”

“Oh, wow. Lucky you were here.”

“Things have a way of working out like that. I’m—”

“Sam,” the other blonde woman says. She looked familiar right away, but I couldn’t place her. “You’re Sam Harris.”

“Yeah, and sorry, but you are…?”

“Lauren.” She brushes her messy hair back. “We went to high school together. I was a grade below you, though.” Pausing, she waits to see if it sparks any recognition. I slowly shake my head. “I was Lauren Wallace back then,” she says, and the name rings a bell. Lauren Wallace…Lauren Wallace…Lauren…yes, I remember her now. Vaguely…very vaguely.

“Yeah, I got it now. So, uh, how have you been?”

“Good.” She smiles again and inches closer. “I’ve been in Detroit and just moved back and am staying with my sister.” She looks at Tigger’s owner. “I got divorced last year,” she adds. “So I’m a single lady once again. What about you?” Her eyes go to my left hand. “Anyone special in your life?”

At the mention of someone special, my mind goes to Chloe and her rain-soaked hair. She is special, but she’s not in my life.

“Sam,” Rory calls, coming to the little window. She waves me in, saving me from having to answer Lauren’s question. I end up changing into scrubs and assisting with the rest of the surgery, fascinated with both the similarities and differences in a dog versus human surgery.

Dean and Mason are sitting in the waiting room when we’re all done, and Rory and I go up front.

“How’s Tigger?” Lauren asks, holding her sister’s hand.

“Dr. Harris,” I say, feeling almost weird referring to Jacob as a doctor when I go by the same name, “said he’s stable. He’ll be out to talk to you soon.”

“Why are you here?” Rory asks Dean.

“We came to check on you,” he replies with a frown. “Nice to see you too.”

Rory rests her hands on his chest. “You know what I mean. Is everything—”

“Adam is fine,” he tells her. “I already called your mom and let her know we got tied up.”

“Thank you.”

Someone knocks on the front door, making us all jump.

“It’s my husband,” Lauren’s sister, whose name I haven’t caught yet, says and gets up. One of the vet techs comes up front at the same time and lets him in, and then waves them back into an exam room, leaving Dean, Rory, Mason, Lauren, and me in the waiting room.

“You still want to go out and get that drink?” Mason asks me and then looks at Rory and Dean. “You guys too?”

Rory shakes her head. “I’m pooped. But Dean, go if you want to.”

“Nah, I’ll take you home,” he tells her, and Rory smiles.

“A drink sounds good,” Lauren sighs.

“You’re welcome to join us,” Mason says without missing a beat.

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“You wouldn’t be imposing. At all.” Mason waves his hand in the air. “It’s been a stressful night. You need to unwind.”

Rory catches my eye and shakes her head.

“Oh, I definitely do,” Lauren goes on.

“Do you, uh, need to call the mister and let him know?” Mason asks smoothly.

Lauren moves her head back and forth, pushing her hair back again. “There is no mister…not anymore. I got divorced last year.”

“You hear that?” Mason’s eyes light up way too fucking much. “She got a divorce last year. That must have been so hard for you.”

“It was.” Lauren lets out a small sigh and leans in. “I came back to Silver Ridge to hopefully get things right this time around.”

“Getting a drink is a good way to get the night started off the right way,” Mason goes on. “And like you said, you could really use one tonight.”