Page 73 of Rescued By the Dog Trainer

He pulls me across his lap, taking every ounce of weight off my damaged leg. Holding me against him with a steady strength that asks for nothing.

When he finally pulls back, the room has settled into a deep warmth.

On the nightstand, my phone buzzes against the pine wood.

The screen glows with an out-of-state number: Mercy Flight Spokane — Aeromedical Operations.

Jason looks at the caller ID, then up at my face. His expression is quiet. Leaving the floor open beneath me.

I reach over, tap the green icon, and switch on the speaker.

"Maren Hale."

"Thank God you picked up. News reached Spokane about the blizzard down in the Rockies. Our board met this afternoon. The lead flight nurse slot on our critical pediatric transport team is yours if you can report for physical staging on Monday. Full medical waiver cleared for the knee on our fixed-wing turboprops. We just need your verbal acceptance."

Director Vance’s voice sounds crisp over the connection. Confident.

I look at Jason.

His hand rests flat on the quilt beside my hip. Palm down. Fingers closed. Steady.

"Director Vance, thank you very much for the incredible opportunity, but I'm declining the offer. Another offer came through that I can't turn down."

A beat of silence hums over the line.

"Are you certain? That's a primary flight position."

"I spent years keeping people alive in the air so they could reach their families." My fingers tighten over Jason's hand on the quilt. "Now, I'm staying where they heal. Thank you for the offer, but my home is here."

"Definitely our loss. I wish I could change your mind, but I have a feeling that won't be possible. Take care of yourself out there, and if you ever are looking for a flight position, our offer remains a standing invitation."

"Thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I've found my home."

"Good luck, Major." The line clicks dead.

The quiet that settles over the bedroom is immense.

Jason’s fingers slide over mine on the quilt, warm and heavy.

"What happens Monday?"

"Monday I walk down the hill to the clinic in town to sign the contract with Cole Blake. Three shifts a week starting in May once the retirement clears. And Wyatt told me before we headed up the mountain that the Jesse Marsh Refuge grant funded a full-time medical coordinator position for this program."

A faint smile touches my lips.

"Medical coordinator?" The corner of Jason's mouth twitches with quiet satisfaction. "That means you're going to be working with me."

"Every single day."

He pulls me back against his chest, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. His chin rests on my crown while the wood stove ticks in the corner.

Half an hour later, the room is warm enough that the deep mountain chill has lifted from my bones.

Dressed in Jason’s thick flannel shirt and dry trousers, I slide my feet into fleece moccasins. I brace my weight on the cedar dresser. The swelling in my knee has begun to ease under the cold pack Bella brought back, the throb manageable as long as I keep my heel straight.

I limp down the hall toward the clinic kitchen, Juno pacing at my side. Her shoulder presses against my right thigh, acting as a living brace.

Yellow light spills across the kitchen floor.