“The stitches are starting to itch,” Cason told T. “That’s a good thing. Means the wound is healing.”

It was day four since the bite. “Just think, I’ll always have a tiny scar to remind me of our friendship.” That was one of the parts of his job he found most difficult. He helped dogs through some very tough issues, getting to know them more intimately than even the owners did, then said goodbye forever. In the past, some owners had told him to come back anytime and visit, and he’d actually done it three times.

Cason usually got along with everyone and was able to make just about any situation comfortable, but all three times he’d gone back to visit a client it had been awkward. Seeing the dog again, especially in their healthy situation, was like going home to Mackinaw City to visit his brothers. But the humans seemed weirded out by it for some reason. And at the end of all three visits, not one had said, as they had the first time, to come back and visit anytime.

“I’ll miss you as much as any of them,” said Cason but not in T’s direction, and he meant it.

The boundary was still there, it just got smaller with every visit. After the first night and the misnamed label of doggie autism that Haley Hutchinson had run with, Cason decided one visit a day was plenty. Overstepping with this guy wouldn’t help. So the next day he’d come back, right after his visit with Fiyero and parked his butt under a tree in the corner of the yard.

After watching Cason for a good fifteen minutes without looking away once, T had shambled over and plopped down three feet away, gave him a silent warning look and thoroughly ignored him.

The next day, day three, in the middle of the gravel of the driveway, T gave him about a foot, just enough to prevent Cason from reaching out to touch him. For an hour and a half they sat there together but apart.

And today in the shade of one of the stables, T had come over within a minute of Cason’s arrival and laid down with his butt just about touching Cason’s hip. They were officially buddies. Cason had proven he could be trusted, and for a dog with issues as severe as T’s, it was tantamount to trusting him with his life.

“At least I’ve still got you, T. The only big guy in my life.”

Cason still had no inkling of what had inspired the Curtises to ditch him and request Avvie. Actually there was still some question whether they’d requested Avvie or just requested someone who wasn’t Cason.

Had she picked up on the fact that he found her super-attractive? Her easygoing attitude was exactly what he’d look for in woman someday. And her pixie haircut, cute smile, even the flannel shirt she’d been wearing the first day they met all just made her seem like the perfect woman. Lucky Emmett. But maybe it was for the best. The last thing Cason wanted was to fool around with a married woman.

It didn’t hurt his feelings—they could spend their money on whoever they wanted to—but it did break his heart. The humans in the family were good people and even though they came from different economic circles, he could see himself chilling at their summer barbeque or backpacking with Emmett. The relationship with Fiyero, however, was the hard one to break. So sudden. No chance to say goodbye.

Cason had talked to Avvie every day since she’d taken over, trying to help her find a way to help the big guy. They’d brainstormed some decent ideas, but it killed Cason to not be there working with him.

Looking up past the scattered clouds in the sky, he said, “I walk with You.”

For the first time in a while, T looked over his shoulder even though Cason hadn’t been talking to him.

“Is it time?” Cason asked T and got no response.

Like a parent subconsciously putting a blanket over a sleeping baby, Cason extended his arm.

T watched it for only a second, then a dire growl escaped his throat and he showed all of his very sharp teeth.

“Guess not,” said Cason, pulling his arm back a little more quickly than he had extended it. “That arm doesn’t need any more stitches.”

The noise stopped and T’s ample lips fell over his teeth, but he kept his head turned toward Cason.

“I know, stupid humans, right? I apologize. Promise it won’t happen again. You can trust me.”

Stupid humans.

They settled into a companionable silence.