He’d loved her and her eccentricities, and he would have tried to work through anything, but the life he was living now was more authentically him than the life he’d shared with her. He’d been the square peg that had never been to Florence or Montenegro or Santiago, and he didn’t grow up golfing or attending polo matches. All those things she’d loved about him at first, she’d been growing to resent.

The truth was that for the last several years, he’d been happier without her than he’d ever been trying to fit in with her family.

Gabe was midstep when the dog tumbled into the murky water. After creating a splash that reached all the way over to him, the hound disappeared underneath the water. Gabe was moving through water deep enough that it reached the top of his jeans, and every step was an effort to stay on track to the pen. He pressed forward, holding his breath for the dog to reappear. He was navigating around a dip in the ground when he was pulled to a halt from behind. He turned to see that Olivia was out of rope. She was holding onto the end, shaking her head helplessly. The rope was wrapped around the tree and stretched out as far as it could go. He still had another eight or ten feet till he reached the pen.

And without the tree as a brace, if he lost his balance, he’d sweep Olivia off her feet and into the water in a fraction of a second. And that was without the added weight of the dog in his arms.

Gabe searched the flooded pen again, hoping to find that the dog had resurfaced. Relief swept over him when the dog’s face popped above water and he began to tread frantically. The rushing water was stronger than the dog’s paddling strength, and in the space of a second or two, the terrified animal was swept against the fence. As much effort as the animal was extending to stay above water, it was obviously something he wouldn’t be able to maintain long.

Barely conscious he’d made the decision to do it, Gabe yanked at the knot on the rope till it released and tugged it free of his belt loops. He heard Olivia yell in protest, but the rush of the water was too loud to make out her words.

Adrenaline propelled him through the water the last of the way to the pen. Grabbing onto metal fencing, he traveled along the side to the door and felt for the submerged latch. Perhaps the water had been lower when the kids first came by, but they’d been right about the pen being locked. A medium-weight chain was wrapped around the latch and secured with a dead bolt.