In other words, Harrison was just as pathetic a man now as he’d been a month ago. The only difference was he knew it now.

So he’d use his three days, dammit. He’d use them hard. Since the day he’d walked into her kennel, Sophie had pushed him and encouraged him, supported him and yelled at him.

But more than that, she believed in him.

No one had ever believed in him before, and he wasn’t sure how to repay her. All he had to offer her was this one small thing, this one small success. He’d give it to her too. He’d give it to her if he had to sit here in front of the fireplace every day for the rest of his life, encouraging Bubbles to draw just a little bit closer to the flames.

They might burn you, little one, but that’s the cost of being warm. That’s the cost of being alive.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” his dad said with a shake of his head. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. You’re fighting a losing battle.”

“Believe me, Dad, I know,” he replied. “But I’m going to fight it anyway.”

* * *

“What do you mean, you’re not coming?” Derek Williams, a man Harrison would normally be glad to see standing on his front porch with a giant cooler and a fishing tackle box, frowned and set his burdens down. “It’s our annual trip. If we don’t go before the fire season starts, we won’t have another chance.”

“I’m sorry.” Harrison could hear the skittering of tiny claws over the hardwood floors and angled the door more closely shut behind him. “I wish I could, but I have a thing.”

“A thing?” Derek lifted one of his brows and tried peering around the door. “What kind of thing?”

“A personal thing.”

“False. You’ve never had a personal thing a day in your life. You’re the least sociable man I’ve ever known. What are you hiding back there?”

“Nothing,” Harrison insisted—a lie that was quickly followed by a small thump as Bubbles made it to the door. Damn. She must have gotten through his kitchen barricade. That was the problem with rodent-size dogs: they could worm their way through the unlikeliest places.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing.” Derek put a hand on the door and gave it a nudge. Fortunately, Harrison was expecting it. He was also a good forty pounds heavier than the other man, which meant his hold on the doorknob remained fast.

Like most of his friends, Derek was part of the wildland fire crew, composed of equal parts muscle and nerve. Also like most of his friends, Derek was a persistent bastard. The two men had traveled through the fiery gates of hell together so many times it was impossible to maintain anything resembling emotional distance.