Rhett woke up that morning without her, feeling like hell. His head—and other body parts—ached, and the feeling didn’t go away, not with a long hot shower or an even longer ride on Remus before he finally made his way to the clinic to relieve Molly and check on the bears.

“So, have we decided on names?” Rhett asked, after examining the cubs. Their paws were healing, but it would take time before he would know for sure if there’d be new claw growth or if the trauma was too extensive.

“The kids have made a list,” Molly said, pulling it out. “Mary Kate and Ashley,” she said. “Zack and Cody. Fred and George.”

“From Harry Potter?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Let’s go with that.”

“Yay!” Molly said. “We can get them little Gryffindor scarfs for Halloween! Can I print out Hogwarts letters for them and put it on YouTube?”

He shook his head, laughing. “You can do whatever you want social-media wise, you know that.”

“Awesome!” Molly said. “We’ve got over 30,000 new followers since I posted the video of the possums.”

“That’s great,” he said. “Let’s bring them out to the larger enclosure for awhile,” he said, picking up the cub formerly known as Cub A, the bolder one, who was now Fred. “I want them to get some fresh air.”

Molly followed suit with George, and they brought the cubs out into the large grass enclosure where they kept the mid-size animals. There was a climbing deck still installed from last year when they had Simba before he went to his forever habitat. The bears perked up at the smell and sight of grass, and given the opportunity to explore, tentatively began to move around the enclosure.

“I’ve gotta go help Dr. Ryan with the Johnson horses today,” Molly reminded him. Dr. Ryan was one of the other vets who worked at the clinic, a fantastic older farm animal vet whose depth of knowledge awed Rhett. She knew everything, it seemed, her years of experience and stories so inspiring. But she only came in only three times a week since she still did a lot of house and farm calls, her specialty being equine health.

“Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll be fine with these guys, and the clinic’s got a full staff today.”

“Have fun,” Molly said, heading off.

As he watched Fred and George tussle with each other, some of the tension eased from his body. They were improving already—though he knew it helped that he had been careful not to separate the cubs. They clearly had a strong bond, and he’d seen it time and time again, when an animal, especially a wild one, was robbed of a faithful companion, how their health—physical and mental—would often suffer.

Just like with humans, he thought. Just like it’ll be when Nat leaves.

He shouldn’t have taken her to bed again. He shouldn’t have succumbed the first time. But he had. And he’d keep doing it for as long as she let him because… God.

Being with Nat was like touching inspiration itself, like science and art and beauty and his future all in the palm of his hand at once, the power of her entrusted to him, given to him, like she knew he’d care for it and nurture it and worship her and her power and her strength and her self, her beautiful, true self.

You are so fucking screwed. There is not even a word for how screwed you are. Your heart is gonna shatter into a million pieces and you’ll never recover. You’re going to be an old, sad man who becomes a hermit in the woods.

He was so wrapped up in his panic that he didn’t even hear the footsteps coming up the path before it was too late.

“Still playing with your pets, I see,” said a deep voice behind him.

Rhett froze, and it took him a moment to turn around in the bear enclosure.

A tall man with a thick shock of salt and-pepper hair falling across his forehead, wearing an impeccable Armani suit, was standing outside the cub’s enclosure. He was looking like he was trying hard not to breathe through his nose.

“Hi, Dad,” Rhett said.

“Rhett,” his father said. “I hear you’ve gotten married.”

How the hell? Jace. Of course. Fucking Jace. He had always been the family gossip.

Rhett closed his eyes, breathing deeply, trying to calm the frustration rising in his chest. He stood up, brushing his dirty hands on his jeans before opening the enclosure and stepping out of it.

“Come up to my place behind the lodge,” he said. “We can talk.”

“Oh, we’re going to talk,” Hank Oakes strode ahead of him, where one of the four-wheelers from the sheds was already parked. His father’s frowned deepened when Rhett was the one who swung into the driver’s seat, but he hopped in the back.

Rhett drove the four-wheeler down the dirt road, grateful the whir of the engine was too loud for them to talk. It was a short reprieve, but it was appreciated. When he pulled up to his place set in the circle of oaks near the pear orchard, it was way too soon.

He loved his father, but he had never been anything like him, and that had seemed to pain and frustrate him. While he would’ve loved to be able to relate to their dad like Heath or Jace did, he never could. He wasn’t ambitious or driven like them or the rest of their family… not in the same way. What he worked for, what he strived for, was all in service of this place and the animals. It fed his happiness in a way no other kind of success ever had.

His father had always struggled to understand that. And as they walked inside his house and stood in his living room, the distance seemed to yawn immeasurably between them.

“Do you want a beer?” Rhett asked.

“It’s one o’clock in the afternoon,” Hank said.

“Okay, Dad,” he sighed, going over and sitting on the couch, gesturing for him to take a seat. “Come on. Let’s get it over with.”

Hank’s face tightened. “I didn’t exactly relish the way I got the news,” he said, sounding a little helpless. He slumped down in the leather chair across from Rhett. “Why didn’t you call me when this guy Durbin started pulling a power play on you?”

“I called Jace,” Rhett said.

“I’m your father, Rhett,” Hank said.

“And you would’ve called Jace,” Rhett pointed out. “I was just saving you a step. I didn’t want to bother you. I know you’re busy.”

Hank sighed. “I want to know about your life.”

Sure. Now that he was a success. When he was just a small-town vet specializing in wild animals, his father had struggled mightily to relate to him, mystified by Rhett’s enthusiasm and dedication to preserving wildlife, to being as hands-on as possible.

Hank Oakes was a hands-off sort of man. He gave people money. He bought companies and ran them. But he didn’t build much of anything from scratch anymore. That had been more of his grandfather’s deal. He’d been the founder of the Oakes Sporting Goods empire and the reason that River Run belonged to Rhett.

Rhett tried hard not to resent his father for refusing to help bring River Run back to its former glory and then some. He always thought his father had been a little pissed that his grandfather had left such valuable land to him, rather than to the family trust or one of his more ambitious cousins. But it had been left to Rhett because Gramps knew that he loved the land and would do right by it… that he’d do something more with it.

And so he had. With no help from his family. He loved his brothers, but it had taken adulthood to put them on equal footing. The curse of being the baby, he supposed.

“It’s okay, Dad,” he said. “I took care of it.”

“You got married,” his father said bluntly, staring at him.

“It’s not a big deal,” Rhett said, but it sounded weak even to his own ears. Of course it was a big deal. Nat… she was a big deal. Her presence in his life, the effect she had on it, on him, on everything.

He was so fucking screwed and he knew it, but he couldn’t admit it out loud. And certainly not to his father.

“Rhett, you do understand who this woman is, don’t you?” Hank asked.

“She’s a friend, Dad,” Rhett said firmly, wondering if his father knew what dangerous ground he was on. He was not about to let Hank malign Nat or cast her as some sort of gold digger. Christ.

“She’s a really good friend. We’ve known each other for years. She’s helping me so I can get this issue ironed out with Durbin once and for all. The marriage is just a failsafe until I figure out why the guy’s trying to move in on the water rights. Keeps the water source available to me and the refuge and the bathhouse, which is a big part of the business now.”

“Are you serious right now?” his father demanded. “Natalie Banks’ father is one of the biggest landowners in state. He has cattle ranches and vineyards, and he owns half the cranberry bogs on the Oregon coast.”

Rhett blinked, a little surprised. Nat had described her father as big-time rancher, but he guessed he hadn’t realized how big. “Okay, so why is this important?”

“Because he’s a colleague, Rhett,” his father gritted out. “And he flew out with me. He’s sitting in the lodge’s private lounge right now, waiting to speak to you.”

“Wait, what?” Rhett leapt to his feet, raking his hand through his hair, terror lancing through him. “Nat’s father is here? Oh shit. I’ve gotta…” He looked around hopelessly, frantic. “I need to shave or something,” he blurted out. “Fuck.” All he could think was You’ve got to make a good impression and Fuck, we got married without telling anyone and Did he bring a shotgun? He must have brought a shotgun. Everything she’s told me about him tells me he brought a shotgun. I’m gonna get shot by a guy called Big Stan.

Hank started laughing.

“Dad!” he protested, feeling like he was twelve years old again.

“You two getting married isn’t a “big deal” huh?” Hank asked, silver brow arched. “That’s why the thought of meeting her father is sending you into a sheer panic?”

“It’s an awkward situation,” he protested, and it made Hank laugh even harder. He could feel himself turning red, but he didn’t feel angry, because his father was looking at him with the kind of fond affection he wasn’t really used to.

“So you found the woman you want to spend your life with,” Hank said.

“I told you, it isn’t like that,” Rhett said firmly, even though everything in his body and heart said Yes in resounding agreement. “She’s doing me a favor so Durbin backs off long enough for me to figure out his next move. She’s a friend. Nothing more.”

“Your friend left her camisole on the couch,” Hank said, pointing behind his shoulder.

Rhett turned bright red to the tips of his ears, snatching the silk-and-lace confection that Nat must’ve tossed there last night and shoving it deeper in the couch cushions.

“Go calm down,” his father directed. “Maybe take a shower and put on a clean shirt. Then come and meet your new father-in-law.”

“He isn’t—” Rhett started, but then he just gave up. There was no use arguing with his dad. Years of it had taught him that they did have one thing in common: stubbornness. Which is why he probably kept trying. But in this instance, Dad was right—he needed a shower.

“I’ll meet you over there,” he said.

“Good,” Hank said, getting up and heading to the door. “And Rhett?”

“Yeah, Dad?”

“The place looks amazing,” he said, his eyes, so much like Rhett’s own, were actually shining with respect. “I’m very proud of you. And I’m very happy you’ve found someone to share the fruits of all your hard work with.”

Rhett didn’t know what to say. He swallowed, his throat clicking painfully around the lump in his throat. “I’ll see you over there,” he said finally.

Hank nodded.