Seven hours later, Bev still hadn't gone to bed. Her muscles were cramped from sitting for so long, but she couldn't bring herself to move. Mac and the beagle were asleep on her lap, and she was still leaning against the railing of her balcony. Her butt was numb, and her back was sore from the metal posts, but still she didn't move.

She had never felt such an overwhelming sense of loss. It was a hopeless feeling, utterly lonely with a dark future looming ahead. A bleak future that was like a black cloud of despair.

Bev lifted her gaze to the summer sky, blinking at the twinkling stars. The whole time she'd been crying, the sky had been beautiful and she hadn't even noticed.

Like Mack, she had a choice: to give up, or to fight even harder. He had fought and continued to do so every day. That was part of the reason she'd fallen in love with him, because he cared so much and so deeply. And she claimed to care, but she was sitting around feeling sorry for herself.

No wonder Mack couldn't love her. How could a man of his strength love a weak woman who let the world win? She'd been so blind.

Well, she wasn't anymore. She was going to fight back, be the kind of woman who would be worthy of Mack's love, even if he never knew about it. She would know, and that was what was important.

Bev glanced at her watch. Five in the morning. She could manage a two-hour nap and be at Jez's at eight without being too intrusive. The closing wasn't until tomorrow. She was not giving up.

* * *

A wrinkled piece of paper containing Jez's address clutched in her hand, Bev stood on the front step of the grandest house she'd ever seen in real life. She wasn't sure what the standards were for mansions these days, but Jez's house surely qualified.

She pressed the doorbell and waited. Strangely, her heart wasn't racing, and her palms were dry. It was as if she'd become Mack, with all his self-confidence and determination.

Jez answered the door. "Bev? What are you doing here?"

"I really hope I'm not bothering you. I wouldn't come here unless I was desperate."

Jez lifted her glasses from where they dangled on a gold chain around her neck, peering at Bev through them. "Why, you look terrible. What's wrong?"

"The property is going to be sold tomorrow. I didn't tell you before because Mack thought it was better not to seem desperate. But I'm out of time. I need your help." She wasn't even going to give Jez the option of not helping. The wimpy Bev who was intimidated by money and sophistication was gone. Now she knew the reason she wasn't worthy of Mack wasn't because she was poor or wore overalls, it was because she was weak. And now that she was strong, she was Jez's equal, Mack's equal, everyone's equal. She belonged and she deserved to be taken seriously.

"Tomorrow? Even if I gave you money today, that wouldn't be enough time to buy another place and move them."

"I'm sure I could get the sellers to sell to me instead. They love me."

"I haven't actually finished going through the business plan yet," Jez admitted. She stepped back and pulled the door open. "Why don't you come in and we can chat for a bit?"

Bev lifted her chin and smiled. "That would be great."

As soon as she stepped inside, Bev was glad she hadn't brought her dogs. Jez's house was no place for an animal. She felt like she should take off her shoes and walk in her socks over the spotless white carpet. Yet she didn't feel intimidated. Just confident. It was an amazing feeling.

"So, tell me about this Operations Manager you're going to hire."

"Operations Manager?" What in the heck was that?

"Yes, it's on the second page of your business plan. Given that your business is non-profit, I was wondering whether a paid employee like that is necessary."

Mack must have put that in the plan. He'd added a bunch of stuff at the last minute, and they'd never had a chance to go over it. She'd assumed he'd be the one talking to Jez about it, so she hadn't bothered to get the details. But instead of ducking her head and trying to slink away in ignorance, she thought of Mack and how he'd never give up.

So she pulled her shoulders back and met the older woman's penetrating gaze. "I'm sorry, Jez, but I have a confession to make."

"What's that, dear?" Jez opened the door to a sunny parlor. "In here."

"Mack wrote that business plan. I don't understand all of it. I don't even know what an Operations Manager is."

Jez cocked a white eyebrow over the rim of her wire glasses. "Is that right?"

"Yes. He was supposed to talk to you about this business plan, but he had to go to California today. He won't be back for a long time, so I'm on my own."

The older woman paused in the doorway, her savvy eyes inspecting Bev. "So maybe you better tell me in your own words what your plan for the shelter is."

"My own words?"

Jez settled onto a pale green couch with perfectly fluffed cushions. "Yes. Tell me what you'd do, if you had all the money you needed."

Bev perched on the edge of an antique wooden chair, excitement waving through her. "Well, I'd hire someone to run the shelter so I could work with the animals. I love to match up animals to families, but I don't know much about running a business. Right now I'm trying to do it all, and I don't have time, and I don't have the skills."

"Uh huh. That would be the operations manager position."

"Oh. Well," Bev said, the words tumbling out of her mouth. "I'd want that person to know marketing too, to get the word out. I want people to turn their animals over to me instead of the other shelters in the area, and I want families who want pets to come to my shelter instead of going to a breeder or a pet store. All I'm doing right now is handing out flyers and posting on social media accounts."

She took a deep breath and waited.

"I like it when people know their limits," Jez said. "Smart woman to hire someone who can fill in those gaps."

"I'm very limited," Bev blurted out. "And I will freely admit it. Really."

Jez chuckled. "Relax, Bev. You're doing just fine."

* * *

Mack sat in the driver's seat, his arms draped over the steering wheel, Janey sitting beside him as they stared at his house. It felt strange to be driving away from it, knowing he wouldn't be back. At the last minute, he'd decided to drive cross-country so Janey wouldn't have to be stuck in cargo on a plane. Bev would never put any dog in cargo, so he couldn't either. Refusing to fly Janey cargo also meant he wouldn't be able to come back to town often, unless he found a dog sitter he trusted enough to leave her with. So…now he was leaving behind his greatest accomplishment. "I was so damn proud of that place."

She wagged her tail, gazing at him happily.

Buying that house had been a statement that he'd made it. That he'd come far enough that everyone he loved would be safe. He'd thought it would make him feel at peace again…but it hadn't.

Nothing had.

The only moment his house had felt right was when he and Bev had relocated her shelter to it the night of the flood. "I don't get it, Janey," he muttered. "Why the hell doesn't anything ever feel right?" Nothing had felt right since the day his sister had died. Not the house. Not the client. Not the move to California.

For a split second, he glanced at Janey. "What if we didn't go? What if we stayed?"

She wagged her tail again, and barked, her tongue lolling happily to the side, clearly not remotely concerned whether they were about to drive over three thousand miles to California, or five miles to the office.

He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, gripping the steering wheel. What the fuck? What was the right answer? What—

A light tap sounded on his window, and Janey leapt across him, barking as she clawed at the window. He opened his eyes and saw his mom standing there.

He immediately rolled down his window. "Hey, Mom."

She was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, not exactly her usual stylish outfit. "Since you insist on being a damned fool, here's your going away present." She held out a small, white envelope.

He frowned as he reached for it. "A card?"

"No." She set her hand over his as he started to open it. "Not yet. Open it after I leave, but before you start driving." Her fingers tightened over his hand. "You'll never bring her back, Mack. No matter how hard you work, your sister will always be a part of your past."

He ground his jaw. "We've been over this before—"

"And I'll say it again and again, until you stop being a bull-headed fool." She tightened her grip on his hand. "It's time to start living again, Mack. Before it's too late."

"I am living—"

"You haven't lived a day in the last fifteen years." His mom looked at him, and, for the first time in his life, he realized she looked old. Vulnerable. And suddenly, he knew that she didn't have forever. No matter how much he earned, there would be a point at which even his money wouldn't be able to stop the inevitable.

His throat tightened, and suddenly, he felt grief wash over him, violent, unexpected, and overwhelming. "Mom—"

She stepped back. "I love you, Mack. We all do." Then she turned and walked back to her car, not even looking back.

Mack didn't move until long after she'd driven out of sight. Finally, Janey nudged his hand with her cold nose, and he looked down at the envelope in his hand. Silently, he slid it open with his thumb, and pulled out the contents. There were two photographs.

The first hit him like a cement block right in his gut. It was a picture of him as a kid, holding his sister the day she came home from the hospital. She was tiny and squished, and he looked proud as hell. He'd seen the picture a thousand times, but this time, it seemed to paralyze his lungs, making it almost impossible to breathe. His baby sister, at the start of her life, when her future was at its full potential.

His throat too tight for swallowing, he moved it aside to look at the second picture...and this one hit him even harder. It was a picture from his mom's birthday party, a candid taken by the photographer he'd hired. It was a photo of him and Bev talking on his back deck. She was holding out a photograph, and he knew immediately which one it had been. Her beagle. The dog she'd fought so hard to give a second chance at life. In the photograph, she was staring up at Mack with huge eyes, and he knew the moment that the photograph had captured was the one where she'd asked him to spare her shelter, and was waiting for his answer.

The one where he'd turned her down.

Son of a bitch.

He leaned his head back. "There's no way to win, Janey. No fucking way to win."

She wagged her tail and gave a little bark, panting happily at him. Not caring what he'd done. Not caring what he was about to do. Just thinking he was the greatest guy on the planet.

He eyed her. "You're wrong, you know."

She yipped softly and licked his chin, absolutely and completely refusing to believe him.