The Geography of Happiness (Mackenzie Country)

Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Spencer

Connor’s head appeared around the door to the treatment room. “Hey, Boss. You got time to see a walk-in?” At almost eighteen, Connor was a trainee veterinary assistant and the clinic’s newest employee. Fresh to the Mackenzie the previous Christmas, he’d taken six months to decide whether training as a shepherd on Lane Station or working as a vet assistant with us was a better fit for him. Lucky for the clinic, we won. I could only hope he’d stay on after his exams were done at the end of the year.

Oakwood Veterinary Clinic was a busy two-vet practice, but we’d never employed a trained veterinary assistant. It was a misguided hangover from when the business was young and we were wary of any additional expense. Four months with Connor on the books and I had no idea how we’d ever managed without him. He saved us more money than his salary cost, and we’d been fools not to take the leap earlier. Then again, we wouldn’t have had Connor, and I suspected the right man made more difference that just an extra pair of hands.

I looked at the neat piles of dressings, drugs, and equipment that covered the stainless treatment table and sighed. I had a wickedly busy afternoon ahead of me at Lane Station and the last thing I needed was another interruption. Spring was hella busy in the Mackenzie. Between muster, shearing, lambing, docking, and a million other station activities that might require veterinary input, I barely had time to do more than throw a few replacement supplies into the black hole of my truck between visits and hope that I didn’t run out of anything critical.

“Unless they’re here to tell me I just won the lottery and can afford to bring on another partner, I really don’t want to know,” I answered peevishly. “Tell Matt it’s his turn. There have to be some perks to being the older partner, right? God knows it’s not the scintillating company or undying respect.”

Connor snorted. “Should I be offended?”

I grinned. “Be my guest.”

“You whined, oh master?” Matt’s cherubic face slid alongside Connor’s, his rusty curls hanging loose from the usual ponytail that kept them in check. “I’ll have you know, there are plenty of females who find me scintillating.”

I cocked a brow. “Name one.”

Connor sniggered and Matt slapped the kid playfully up the back of his head. “You think that’s funny?”

Connor shook his head while biting back another laugh. “Absolutely not.”

Matt grinned. “Just as I thought.” Then his hand shot into the air and he exclaimed, “Bessie Carnegie.”

Connor and I stared blankly at him.

Matt waggled his brows. “You asked for the name of one female who finds me scintillating company and I give you Bessie Carnegie.”

“Oh my god.” Connor broke into open laughter.

“Matt, my dear man.” I fought the urge to join Connor having hysterics in the corner. “As much as we totally understand Bessie’s obsession with you, Carnegie’s prize Angus heifer doesn’t really meet the brief.”

Matt straightened his shoulders and stabbed an accusatory finger my way. “That’s bovine discrimination and I expected better of you. Bessie even runs to greet me when she sees me coming, right, Connor?”

Connor was laughing too hard to do more than snort and nod when I whisper-shouted, “Tell Sonja I’ll handle all the Carnegie Station calls from now on.” Which only set the poor lad off again.

Matt pouted. “Now you’re just being mean. But speaking of Carnegies, Dirk just called. He’s got a heifer down with bloat and I was just heading out to go see them. I might call in on Bessie while I’m there.”

Connor almost choked, holding his sides and leaning against the wall for support.

“You’re an idiot.” I threw a dressing pack at my partner, which he deftly ducked. “Go on, get out of here, and you can take Connor with you. I’ll handle the damn walk-in.”

Matt clapped Connor on the back. “I’ll see you in the truck in ten.”

“Will do.” Connor turned to me. “You want me to put the guy in treatment one?”

“Thanks. Do you know what it’s about?” I walked to the basin to wash my hands.

Connor shrugged. “Some out-of-towner with a stray dog he found at the supermarket.”

I groaned. Just what I needed. Well-meaning tourists came with their own set of problems, not the least of which often included leaving without fully covering their bills. “Fine. Show him into treatment one and make sure there’s a cage ready out back. Ten to one we get stuck with the poor dog.”

“Will do. Here you go.” Connor grabbed a dustcoat from the peg by the door and threw it my way.

My clothes rarely stayed clean past midday, dustcoat or not, but God loves a trier, right? I slipped it on, then made the mistake of checking my reflection in the mirror and... Jesus Christ. I spent a fruitless few seconds trying to tame my disobedient hair before heading to treatment one where a slightly built man was leaning over the examination table with his arms wrapped protectively around a small dog.

Unaware of my presence, he was cooing softly to the animal who was staring back at him with something close to adoration. A smile spread over my face and I checked my pissy mood. Moments like those were much needed reminders of why I became a vet in the first place, especially when I was armpit deep in a heifer’s arse. I rapped my knuckles gently on the open door and strolled into the room.

“Jeez.” The man spun around, colour rushing into his pretty cheeks. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

I almost fell over my feet in instant recognition because there was no mistaking who was standing in front of me. The man was a fair bit shorter than me, younger too—around thirty if I had to guess, although it was hard to tell because there was an aura of no-bullshit maturity about him that the majority of guys around that age often lacked, big time. Dressed in dark slim-fit jeans, Nikes, and a cream lightweight jersey, he had dirty blond hair in a modern choppy style, a slightly aquiline nose, a strong, clean-shaven jaw, and eyes the colour of Lake Tekapo under a clear sky—eyes I’d obsessed about ever since I’d met the man the day before.

“Sorry.” I blinked and gathered my wits, circling the examination table to the opposite side. “Pretty cute distraction you’ve got there.” I indicated the dog and the man’s blush intensified.

“He certainly is.” Terry observed the pup with a sappy grin that only added to his attraction.

“So, it’s a boy, huh?” I stood back and eyed the pup, who looked unkempt and thin, but not dangerously so.

He nodded. “Unless things have changed since I last looked.”

I chuckled. “It’s Terry, right? We met at Miller Station yesterday? You had your daughter with you. Hannah?”

He nodded. “Yes. Fourteen going on twenty. And you’re Spencer. When I saw the Oakwood Veterinary, I figured it was yours. It was on the door of your ute.”

Fourteen? The guy had to be older than I thought. “Oh, right,” I said blankly, shaking myself free of those gorgeous eyes. “Well, it’s nice to meet you again, Terry.” I offered my hand, enjoying the warm dry clasp of his fingers around mine. Then somewhere around the way-too-long-to-be-comfortable-stage, he tugged gently, and I remembered to let go. “Sorry.” I winced. “That was weird, wasn’t it?”

Terry shook his head way too fast. “No. Not at all.” But his expression told me otherwise. I’d made an idiot of myself, no mistake. I briefly considered the shrewd option of just letting it go, but common sense was never my strong point. Instead, I dug myself deeper. “It’s just you’ve got the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. Kind of hypnotising if I’m honest.” Kind of hypnotising?

“Oh.” Terry’s gaze darted down to the pup, who gave a rumbly growl of pleasure as Terry stroked him. The sound did squirmy things to my stomach. “Genes, right?” He shrugged. “I could’ve got my dad’s extra toe, but instead I got my mum’s baby blues. Figure I lucked out on that one.” He looked back up and those eyes danced with mirth.

I snorted a laugh at the unexpected humour. “Yeah, my mum is a pint-sized light-footed tigress who couldn’t put on an ounce of fat if she ate lard for an entire year. I, on the other hand, have my father’s height along with his clumsiness and the capacity to sprout belly fat if I so much as walk past a bakery.”

Terry laughed and the small grey room lit up at the sound. “He must’ve handed down a few redeeming characteristics. Where did you get your love of animals?”

I thought about that. “Definitely my mum. But I have been told I’ve got my dad’s charm, although that’s debatable.”

Terry studied me for what felt like a long moment, then shook his head. “No, definitely not debatable. I can see that about you. But I bet it got you into a lot of trouble.”

He thought I was charming? I chuckled. “Yeah, you’re not wrong on that score. But it also got me out of a lot of trouble.” I waggled my brows and Terry’s answering smile was wide and unaffected, all that awkward wariness suddenly gone. A glimpse of the real man behind the quiet, cautious exterior.

A warmth curled low in my belly. I couldn’t look away, and for some reason neither did he. My radar was pretty damn good, and together with the long silence, and that soft, almost shy look in Terry’s eyes, the question of his sexuality began circling my brain. Then I remembered the young girl he’d flown in with and the fact that they were Miller Station guests, and I kicked myself. Don’t be an idiot, idiot. Even if Terry was gay or bi or whatever, that scenario was way too complicated, even for me. Not to mention, Gil would likely skin me alive for messing with his guests. I was about to break eye contact when Terry beat me to it, returning his attention to the pup, who was beginning to fret.

“Shhhh. It’s okay, little one. You’re safe.”

The pup settled.

“Nice touch you’ve got there,” I observed. And okay, maybe I was flirting a little, but the guy had me genuinely puzzled.

“Thanks.” Terry flushed again, which didn’t help my confusion.

I held out my hand and waited until the pup was curious enough to take a sniff. It didn’t take long, which, in addition to the way he was letting Terry manhandle him, told me he’d known human affection at some point in his short life.

“Not so bad, am I?” I scratched under his chin until his bottom started to wriggle along with most of his body, making me chuckle. “Well, aren’t you a friendly wee thing?” The pup rested its paws against my chest and reached up to sniff my neck. I snorted and lifted him up so we were eye to eye. “Now listen here, little mister. I generally expect dinner first, at the very least.”

Terry chuckled. “High standards.”

I caught his eye and grinned. “I do try.”

He flushed and looked away, and if the guy was straight, I’d eat my damn hat.

I set the pup back on the table and began a more thorough examination. He was the size of a spaniel, with a light-coloured coat that was developing the greyish mottled tones of an Australian cattle dog. Not purebred, for sure. With feet that size and a pair of oversized knee joints, a much larger dog had clearly contributed to that gene pool. Fleas ran for cover in his coat and he needed a week of good feeding, but overall, he looked healthy enough.

“Word is, you found this little guy wandering the streets.” I opened the pup’s mouth for a good look at his teeth.

“In the supermarket carpark, actually,” Terry answered, then told me the whole story while I completed my inspection.

I smiled when he mentioned Chrissy and looked up into those killer baby blues. “Ah, yes, our local activist for any number of named and unnamed causes. That kid’s going places, let me tell you.”

Terry chuckled. “She certainly has a way about her. In fact, she reminds me of Hannah. Forthright and able to twist me around her little finger far better than I care to admit.”

“Ah, the joys of parenting.” I refocused on the pup who was busy batting at the cord hanging from my sweatshirt hood. After failing to find an identification chip, I scratched the pup under his jaw and looked up to find Terry watching me intently... again. If he didn’t stop that soon, I was gonna get a complex. Was he or wasn’t he? I wasn’t sure why I was worried either way. Not like I was gonna act on it, right?

“So, what do you think?” Terry asked, his gaze travelling over the pup.

“Aside from a good bath, vaccinations, defleaing, worming, and some fattening up, he’s in surprisingly good shape. All of which tells me he can’t have been on the street that long. He might even have people looking for him.”

Terry brightened. “Do you think so?”

I shrugged. “It’s possible, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up. He’s clearly been around people at some point, but he’s not chipped, and I’m unaware of any local litter with these distinctive Australian cattle dog features. Doesn’t mean there isn’t one, just that I know most of the local dogs and their owners, responsible or otherwise, and there’s nothing like him around.”

“Oh.” Terry’s worried frown returned. “I guess that would’ve been too easy.”

I shot him a sympathetic smile. “Don’t give up. I’ll get Sonja to post his photo on the lost and found websites and check with the shelters if they’ve had any enquiries. Connor will hang a flyer in the cafés and the farm supply store. That’ll catch most of the locals, but the truth is that Oakwood gets more than its fair share of abandoned pets dumped from outside the region. People drive in to drop off their problems and then keep going.”

“What?” Terry gaped, and my gaze snagged on those pretty pink lips. “That’s—” He sighed and shook his head. “I was going to say, unbelievable, but it’s really not, is it? People can be arseholes.”

I totally agreed. “If no one’s claimed the guy by the time he’s neutered and ready to go, I’ll personally drive him to our best shelter.” Personally? I swallowed a groan around the inconvenient lump that giving a fuck about this guy lodged in my throat.

Terry side-eyed me. “It’s a no-kill shelter, right? Chrissy will hunt me down if it’s not.”

I placed a hand over my heart. “You have my word.” I lifted the pup to the floor so he could have a sniff around. “So, that’s about it, unless you change your mind and want to take him back with you?”

“What?” Terry’s eyes bulged. “Back to Painted Bay? With me ?” He stared at the pup. “Well, um, no. Of course, I’d love to, but I really can’t. One dog and a teenager keep me busy enough as it is.” His gaze remained locked on the pup, and I wasn’t sure if it was me or himself that he was trying to convince.

Then again, it wasn’t my business. “Of course. In that case, I’ll pop him in a kennel out back and neuter him tomorrow. What’s his name?”

Terry blinked slowly. “Name?”

I shrugged. “He has to be called something until we find him a home. Every animal has to have a name. Clinic rules.” The lie slid off my tongue far too easily. “You get the honour, if you want?”

Terry’s gaze narrowed. “I won’t be changing my mind just because I named him if that’s what you’re hoping.”

I swallowed a smile. “Not at all.”

He stared me down, reading right through my bullshit, then he sighed and grumbled, “Okay. But fair warning, I’m hopeless at this kind of thing.” He studied the pup. “Hannah names all our animals. She’s the creative one, not me. When it came to our cat, my suggestions were Fluffy or Peaches.”

I couldn’t suppress a snort. “Ouch. Yeah, not a big fan of those.”

Terry rolled his eyes. “See? You should do it.”

I zipped my lips, folded my arms, and leaned back against the stainless countertop.

Terry blew out a sigh. “Jerk. Okay. He’s an Australian cattle dog, right?”

I nodded. “At least partly. The colouring is fairly typical. ACDs are born white and get their adult colour around six to twelve months. Many are mottled just like this.”

“They’re born white?” Terry said, surprised.

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool.” I called to the pup who’d just unloaded an impressive pool of pee on the tiles in the corner of the room. He made a beeline for my hand and immediately offered his belly.

“Sorry about that.” Terry grabbed a bunch of paper towels from the basin and dropped them on top of the pee. “That’s some tank he has for a little tacker.”

I chuckled. “If that’s the worst I have to deal with today, I’ll be laughing.”

He gave a mock shudder. “I’m not even going to ask.”

“Wise man.”

“What about Mack?” Terry eyed me hopefully. “He was found in the Mackenzie, after all.”

I tried really hard not to laugh. “Wow. You really do suck at this. How many Macks do you think the clinic has on its books? I’ll give you a clue. More than I care to count.”

Another groan. “Dammit.” His pout was cute as fuck.

“But I like the general direction you’re heading,” I added, earning myself another roll of those stunning blue eyes.

It was accompanied by a cautionary, “Don’t patronise me.”

So I didn’t, settling instead for watching the way his teeth worried his lower lip as he studied the pup and tried to come up with a better solution. And then there were those slim-fit jeans and the way they hugged his trim legs and perky arse, raising thoughts that had no right percolating in my brain.

“Miller,” he blurted.

It took me a second because... still ogling. Then I grinned. “Miller, huh?” I studied the pup. “That’s actually... pretty good.” I couldn’t hide the surprise in my voice and he laughed.

“Yeah, I know. Shocker, right?”

“No, not at all,” I countered. “It’s just that I had a German shepherd named Miller when I was a kid, so the name caught me off guard. Man, I loved that dog. How the poor thing coped with four boisterous boys I’ll never know. We even taught him to pull a cart one summer. I haven’t thought about him in a long time.”

“Four boys?” Terry’s wide eyes held mine. “Hell, I barely keep my sanity with just one kid. Don’t get me wrong, being a parent is great. I wouldn’t trade my life with Hannah for anything. But bringing up kids is exhausting, especially if you’re doing it solo. A constant rollercoaster of guilt and joy trying to balance work and family life. The hardest, most frustrating, and spectacularly wonderful thing a person can ever do.”

I hadn’t missed the solo part but chose to let it go because the man being single was only more fuckery to add to the list of his many wiles.

Instead, I surprised myself by responding on a much more personal note. “I’d like to say you’re selling it to me, but I’m not sure my parents ever really understood the importance of the whole quality-slash-quantity-time balance thing like you seem to.”

He raised a brow. “Workaholics?”

I shrugged. “You could say that. We grew up on a small dairy farm just outside Martinborough. Neither of our parents had a good head for business, and the place was way too small to make a living for a family of six. Mum was a trained nurse but refused to work off the farm, so things were always tight, and they had to do everything themselves. All of which meant us boys pretty much brought ourselves up. But unlike you, I’m not sure Mum and Dad ever felt particularly guilty. If they did, we sure as hell never felt it. And muggins here was the eldest, so...” I didn’t finish the sentence, and a warm hand squeezed my forearm.

“You became the parent to your brothers.” Statement, not question. Terry studied me with sympathetic eyes.

My throat thickened and I reached out to stroke Miller, which freed my arm. “Yeah, pretty much. Most days they were gone before we got up and didn’t come back until well after dark. Weekends too. It was my job to make sure my brothers were fed, got to the school bus on time, and finished all their chores and homework. Mum kept the freezer stocked with easy meals, but they were pretty repetitive. When I was old enough, I taught myself to cook from the television, and the minute I had my full licence, Dad bought an old car so that I could ferry my brothers to sport training and anything else they needed.”

A deep frown was etched across Terry’s forehead. “What about what you needed? Your interests?”

I spread my hands. “I was too busy playing taxi, shopping for groceries, and cooking.”

“Jesus.” Terry shook his head. “What about grandparents? I know that I couldn’t have coped without my parents’ help.”

“Dad’s folks lived in the UK, and Mum’s parents ran a fertiliser business in Invercargill. We didn’t see a whole lot of them.”

Terry blew out a long sigh. “That’s a tough way to grow up.”

And so fucking lonely. I kept that part to myself. “I’m not sure I really thought about it at the time,” I lied. “It’s just how it was. The one big thing in their favour was they barely batted an eye when I came out as bi. Although looking back, I’m not sure if that was acceptance or just plain disinterest.”

“I’m so sorry, Spencer.” He watched me with keen eyes, his expression guarded, and I realised I’d just come out to him as well. “Are they still running the farm?”

I shook my head. “My dad died of lung cancer ten years back, and Mum ended up selling the place. Go figure. Anyway, she remarried not long after to another farmer, but this one was wealthy and with a much bigger property. He’s a nice enough guy and they seem to get on fine. I just don’t think there was ever any big love story between them. I’m guessing he offered her security and the lifestyle she wanted, if you know what I mean?” I stopped before I said too much. “Still, I’m glad she’s... comfortable.”

Terry arched a brow, those epic blue eyes pinning me in place. “Comfortable, huh? A curious word.”

“It’s the best I’ve got.” I shrugged, adding, “Call me cynical, but my mother landing on her feet that way still seems a little mercenary. I don’t know why it comes as a shock when we discover our parents aren’t perfect. We should know better, right?”

Terry huffed in amusement. “Preaching to the choir here. Do you see her often?”

“No,” I answered flatly. “And I’m okay with that. We talk semi-regularly. She’s always full of news about the farm and how happy and busy she is, but to be honest, the conversations leave me flat. I’ve visited the farm a couple of times, and she occasionally stays with my brothers, but she doesn’t have much of a relationship with her grandchildren and she’s never been down here to visit, not once.”

There was no pity in Terry’s expression, only compassion. “Are you close with your brothers?”

I huffed. “The whole stand-in parent thing put a bit of a wedge between us that took years to undo, not helped by the fact I couldn’t wait to leave home and hardly went back once I did.” I threw him a sardonic look. “They accused me of abandoning them, and they weren’t far wrong. In my elation at finally being free, I kind of forgot I was the only reliable adult they’d ever known.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Terry reminded me gently. “Your brothers should never have been your responsibility to start with.”

I kicked my boot against the table hydraulics. “Maybe so. But it didn’t make things any easier between us after I left. We’re doing better now, or at least we’re making an effort. I’m closer to Derek in age and most other things, so our relationship has rekindled more easily. None of us went farming. I took the vet route. Derek’s a fancy criminal lawyer. Todd has his own construction business. And Graham is an aviation mechanic. They’re all married with families.”

“But not you?” Terry considered me with soft eyes that told me he’d already guessed the answer, and maybe even the reasons behind it.

“No. Not me,” I admitted. “I’ve been way too happy being free of all that responsibility to voluntarily put that noose back over my head.” I paused, wrinkling my brow. “And wow, that sounds so much worse when you say it out loud.”

Terry laughed, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

“Nothing against long-term relationships,” I amended. “Just not for me.” I grabbed a few dog treats from the container on the bench and scattered them on the floor for Miller to find. “And I don’t blame my brothers in the slightest for being pissed with me. I was kind of hard on them.”

“You were angry,” Terry offered without judgement. “And rightly so.”

Like you wouldn’t fucking believe. His words unlocked a tide of emotions that I’d thought I was done with. Fury. Grief. Guilt. I grimaced as tears pricked my eyes and I tried to look away, but those bright blue eyes held fast. In the end, I sighed and smiled wryly. “And it appears I might still be a tad angry,” I admitted.

He returned my smile. “You don’t say.”

My cheeks warmed under his scrutiny. “You know, I haven’t spoken about this in a long time. In fact, other than Matt, most people around here know nothing about my family, and I’ve zero idea why I’m telling you about them now. Please accept my apologies. You didn’t come here to listen to me ramble on about my personal dramas.”

Terry’s gaze softened. “I’m finding it pretty helpful, to be honest. I have a few dramas of my own.”

“You find my teenage angst helpful?” I outright laughed. “Boy, you must be really short on alternatives.”

Terry’s gaze slid to Miller. “That’s probably not too far from the truth.”

His words gave me pause. “Well, if my experience can help in any way, I’ll not only be honoured but also astounded.”

His gaze whipped back to mine and we stayed that way a moment, his expression serious like he was debating his options. Finally, he said, “You really don’t want to hear about my problems.”

I folded my arms and returned his stare. “Why not? If nothing else, it’ll make me feel less of a dick for offloading onto you.”

He snorted. “Fair enough, but don’t say you weren’t warned. Suffice to say my daughter would tell you that she has the exact opposite problem with me that you had with your parents. Overly involved in her life; unwilling to let go; over-protective ; and let’s not forget my all-time favourite— suffocating . The worst part is, she’s probably right.”

I raised a brow. “She’s fourteen. Isn’t thinking your parents are the worst ever just par for the course?”

Terry’s grimace told me he thought otherwise. “Maybe. But Hannah’s not like other kids her age. Those weren’t barbs thrown in anger. They were considered criticisms, and not without merit,” he admitted, unable to hide the lash of pain behind his eyes.

“How so?” I found myself really wanting to understand.

Terry sighed. “I don’t want to treat Hannah differently because she lives with a disability, but the truth is that I probably do without even being aware of it. It’s hard not to. Keeping her health on track has been an uphill battle since she was diagnosed. I’ve had to make some difficult decisions about her treatments—some she didn’t want at the time when she was too young to understand. But I’m her dad. Making the hard choices while taking it on the chin from your kid is part of the job, right? You do what you do to make sure they have the best possible chance in life.”

“I think you’re asking the wrong person about that,” I answered feebly. “I didn’t exactly have the best examples.”

He winced. “Of course. Sorry. But my point is that Hannah’s not a child anymore. She has plans for her future, and in four years she’ll be leaving home for good. She wants—no, she deserves a say right now in how best to make the future happen. Sounds easy if you say it fast, but learning when and how far to start taking my hands off the reins is—” He hesitated, looking miserable. “Fuck, who am I kidding? It scares the living shit out of me.”

I searched for the right thing to say, but it wasn’t like I knew a damn thing about being a real parent, except maybe how not to do it. “I can’t imagine how hard that must be,” I offered weakly, expecting an eye-roll at the generic response, but Terry didn’t seem to mind. “Is that why you’re here?”

Terry gave a derisive snort and scooped Miller up and into his arms. “You might say that.” He tried to give Miller a smoochy hug but the squirming puppy wasn’t having a bar of it and Terry ended up returning him to the floor. “Hannah’s been offered a scholarship to attend The Nolan Academy of Performing Arts next year in Wellington. It’s a huge deal. Ninety per cent of the students are able-bodied, but they have a limited number of enrolments for kids living with disabilities who have a proven track record in the arts. It’s an amazing opportunity. A once-in-a-lifetime break.” Terry’s enthusiasm sounded just a little forced. “The programme is geared toward kids looking to be performers; those who want to teach in the area; and those hoping to use the performing arts in therapeutic practice, like Judah does. He’s Hannah’s dance teacher, mentor, and also a very good friend of mine.”

“Sounds like Hannah is a pretty special teen,” I observed.

“She is,” Terry readily agreed. “We actually visited the school last week and it certainly lived up to the hype.” He sounded more and more miserable with every word. “Hannah is beside herself with excitement at the idea of attending, whereas I feel like I’m riding a speeding train toward a crash with no way to get off.”

“Wow.” I watched him closely. “So this is where the dad-making-the-tough-choices bit comes in, I’m guessing?”

He sighed. “Or maybe just the idiot dad ruining his daughter’s life, take your pick. Anyway, nothing is decided yet, but the trip down here is supposed to upskill Hannah and Gabby to better prepare her for managing on her own, regardless.”

Surprised, I said, “On her own? You wouldn’t be moving to Wellington with her?”

Terry pulled a face. “Aside from the fact I have a business to keep running so Hannah can even attend the damn place since the scholarship doesn’t cover everything, I would also need to rent something myself, find a job, and risk losing everything I’ve built in Painted Bay.”

I felt sorry for the guy. “Okay, that’s a lot. I get why it’s such a hard decision.”

His gaze slipped sideways. “Yeah, but that’s not the real reason it’s so hard.”

I waited.

“The scholarship actually covers dormitory accommodation, and that’s where Hannah wants to stay. She’s determined to live there and not with me, only coming home during school breaks. She doesn’t want me moving down even for just a year. She doesn’t want me being a ‘helicopter parent.’”

I winced. “Ouch. But on the plus side, wouldn’t that mean you might not have to uproot yourself?” I knew I’d said the wrong thing when he visibly bristled. I raised my hands. “Sorry. Just ignore me. I know nothing about kids.”

His shoulders relaxed and he shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. You put your finger on the crux of the problem. I keep asking myself, if Hannah didn’t have JIA, would I be having all these doubts? Kids even younger than Hannah go to boarding schools all the time.” His eyes looked suspiciously shiny.

“That’s true,” I agreed. “But the fact is, Hannah does have a major health issue that you can’t just ignore.”

Terry looked at me with relief stamped on his face. “Right? Precisely. And her health has been brittle the last couple of years. I can’t imagine just letting her go without me being there to call on. But whether I went for a year or four, the issues with my business and everything else still stand. The deadline for accepting the offer is early January, but the way Hannah is acting you’d think I’d already agreed.”

“You can’t postpone it for a year?”

Terry shook his head. “They won’t hold her place and there’s no guarantee she’d get accepted a second time around. If she had a bad year health-wise, she wouldn’t be as competitive.”

I sympathised, “Rock and a hard place, then. Rather you than me.”

He gave a soft snort and worry creased his brow. “Yep. If I let her go and something bad happens, I’ll never forgive myself. If I don’t let her go, I’m not sure Hannah will ever forgive me if she doesn’t get accepted next time around.”

The room fell quiet bar the snuffling of Miller on the prowl for more treats. For a few seconds, the two of us watched him, then I caught Terry’s eye and said in complete seriousness, “It probably doesn’t help, but the fact you’re worrying so much about this is a huge thing and I’m kind of in awe right now.”

His brows crunched. “I don’t get it.”

I couldn’t stop from reaching over to squeeze his arm. “I’m positive that what was best to help me attain my future dreams never even crossed my parents’ mind. Hannah is a lucky girl, regardless, and she’ll come to realise that either way. I don’t believe we only have one option for a meaningful future. I believe our passions and gifts can be used in many ways, depending on where life leads us.”

Terry stared at me, blinking furiously. “I, um—” He hesitated, his voice rough. “I don’t know what to say. I believe that too. I kind of have to after becoming a dad so young. I have to believe I’ve got more to give. That becoming a dad didn’t derail me, just sent me down another track. But it’s so damn easy to lose sight of the bigger picture when all I see is Hannah’s desperation for me to say yes to this.” Those blue eyes pinned me in place. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I squeezed his arm again. “Nothing like feeling better by comparison, don’t you think?”

His mouth twitched. “True. A little callous maybe, but very true. It’s so easy to focus on what we’re doing wrong. It’s good to be reminded of the bits we’re not actually fucking up.”

I snorted. “I love a good low bar, don’t you?”

That made him laugh, and I realised I still had hold of his arm. We locked eyes and a soft smile spread over his face, making him appear so much younger.

“Thanks, Spencer. I really appreciate what you said here.”

The sound of my name on his lips was too fucking nice. “You’re welcome. And right back at you. It was nice to see my parents through your eyes as well, even for just a few minutes.” I chuckled. “I doubt either of us imagined a therapy session when you brought Miller in.”

He laughed and held my gaze. “You got that right. But it was worth every penny.” His gaze lingered on mine for a moment. Then he scooped Miller into his arms and deposited the pup back onto the examination table.

I took it as the end to our conversation, which suited me just fine. I was already reeling from how quickly things had become personal between us, and I figured he felt the same. I couldn’t get a handle on the man. The curious looks. The blushes. The way he left my hand resting on his arm unchecked for so long. The nervous glances. None of which screamed straight to me. Which only beggared the same question I couldn’t get out of my brain—was Terry into guys or was I just wanting him to be?

“So, little Miller...” I slid the pup around to face me and tipped his chin up. “What do you think of your new name?” The pup licked a stripe up my face and I chuckled. “I’m gonna take that as a yes. Let’s get you into your kennel so your good Samaritan can be on his way.”

“I’ll cover the cost of neutering and anything else he might need before you get him to a shelter,” Terry offered.

I held the pup up to my face. “You hear that Miller? We’re going to be paid. Hallelujah.”

Terry’s lips quirked. “Am I gonna need a mortgage to cover the cost?”

I shot him a wink. “Just a small one. Would you like to bring him down to the kennel room?”

Terry quickly agreed and I bundled Miller into his arms, then led them down the hall. Terry settled the dog into the cage Connor had readied with a blanket, water bowl, and a plate containing a small amount of puppy food. Once the door was shut, Terry stuck his fingers through the wire to scratch Miller’s head one last time. Then we stood back and watched the pup chomp down on the kibble like it was the most exciting show in town.

“Well, he certainly looks happy enough,” Terry observed, standing so close I could feel the heat radiating from his body and catch the fresh floral scent of his body wash. “Thanks again for taking him.”

“No problem.” I stepped forward to write something completely unnecessary on Miller’s chart before I did something I’d regret like reaching for the sweet man’s hand. “How about we head to reception so I can take your money before you reconsider and make a run for it?”

He laughed, and I followed him up the hall with my eyes glued to the bunch and stretch of that hella cute arse.