“No, ma’am,” he replied. “I could do good my whole life and not be absolved for what I did to that man and his family. But I don’t know that trying to pretend it never happened will ever change anything.”

Jess stood. She walked to the window, went to pull open the shade, the room suddenly feeling claustrophobic. Then she thought better of it, kept the shade drawn.

He was still watching her; she could feel his eyes on her. Didn’t turn around, didn’t look at him. Didn’t know what she’d say if she did.

“Let me ask you something,” Burke said. “Why is it you think I came here?”

She didn’t turn around. Fiddled with the edge of the shade, just for something to do.

“You have to be pretty crazy to come two thousand miles just to see after a dog, right?” he continued. “I mean, it ain’t exactly normal behavior; I can admit that.”

“I’m glad you said it,” she said. “Because it isn’t.”

“But see, training one little runt dog to help out a wounded marine is about the only good thing I ever did with my life, and that’s hardly an exaggeration. I’ve got a lot of bad things I’ve done that I can’t change, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let the one good thing get wiped away.”

She turned around finally. He was sitting as she’d left him, leaned forward, his hands clasped together, staring down at the floor again. He didn’t look like the big, rough ex-convict who’d showed up at her house unexpected, the tough guy who’d smirked at her from in front of her shotgun. He looked like someone else now, someone less—and at the same time, someone more. He looked vulnerable for the first time she could remember.

He lifted his head, caught her looking at him. Seemed to read her mind; he went red, a little bit, and turned his eyes away.

She watched him a little longer, tried to think of something to say, and then Lucy rolled over on the bed, snorted loud, and started snoring, and it broke the moment and they both laughed.

“Like trucks downshifting on the highway,” Burke said, rubbing his forehead. “She ain’t exactly a lady, is she?”

The dog was sprawled out, took up half the bed, the night’s trauma clearly forgotten, and Jess couldn’t help but smile.

“We should get some rest,” Burke said. “If you can spare a pillow, I’m just fine bunking down on the floor.”

Jess started to protest. “That’s not—”

“No, I insist,” he said. “Someone comes in here, they’ll trip over my big ass, and you pick ’em off with the shotgun.”