“Sometimes, yeah. Especially if it’s just one of us. If we’re together and someone is familiar with the team, they’ll usually catch on sooner or later.” I shrugged. “If it’s just me, they almost never notice.”

  “Which is good, right?” He studied me. “I always hear people who are high-profile are big on privacy and don’t always like being recognized in public.”

  I nodded. “Oh, yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong—it’s fun to meet fans. I’ll never say no to someone who wants a photo or an autograph. It’s great, you know?” I exhaled. “But there are definitely times I just want to walk my cats or buy groceries or something.”

  “I bet,” he murmured.

  The silence threatened to get uncomfortable, so I gestured at his dog, who was still staring out the window while Bear tried to grab her tail. “So it’s okay for her to interact with other animals and people?”

  “Sometimes. There’s a reason her vest says do not pet, because believe me—people try. But she needs downtime and socialization, too.”

  I chuckled dryly. “I can relate.”

  “Right?” He watched her and Bear, a soft smile on his lips. “She’s never completely ‘off’, though. She’ll wake up out of a dead sleep to alert on me.”

  I straightened. “When you’re asleep?” I tried to imagine what kind of health issues required that kind of vigilance even while someone was asleep. And how dangerous that must be for someone in his situation.

  Wyatt’s face colored a little, and he avoided my eyes. “She’s, um… She’s a PTSD alert dog. She’ll calm me down if I start having a panic attack or something.” He swallowed. “And part of my PTSD is nightmares. Bad ones.”

  “Oh. Wow.” I mentally rewound to this evening at the vet’s office, and the way she’d jumped up and guided him to a chair. It wasn’t a surprise now that I thought about it; he’d been on the verge of tears, pleading with them to help keep his dog safe for the night. In his shoes, I’d have been panicking too. I wasn’t sure what to say, but I managed, “I can’t imagine.”

  “It sucks,” he said, his voice hollow. Then he cleared his throat and sat up a little, reaching for his coffee. “Fortunately, she’s very, very good at what she does, even when she’s off duty.”

  “How does she know when she’s not on duty?” I paused. “You just take her vest off?”

  “Yep. She knows she can chill or play if she’s not wearing her vest. She never goes very far from me, though, and she’ll look over at me a lot. But when we—” He shifted uncomfortably. “Before we found ourselves in the situation we’re in, I would take her over to a local dog trainer’s place just to let her play with other dogs and get some dog time.”

  “Not a dog park?”

  “No. Because I can’t guarantee the other dogs that are there have been properly socialized. Plus with her being a Doberman, people expect her to be aggressive, so… Anyway, it’s just not a good place for her.”

  “Sounds like it’s not a good place for any dogs.”

  “Depends on the dog, I guess? Lily’s trainer hates them.” He paused, face falling a little. “And if I took her to one right now, people would immediately assume she’s untrained or she hasn’t had her shots because…” He gestured at himself.

  It took a second for the piece to click into place. When it did, my heart sank. “Jesus. Really?”

  He looked at me through his lashes. “Would you let a homeless person come up and pet your cats?”

  “I…” Oh. Hell. Yeah, maybe he had a point. I was protective of my cats, and before today, if a homeless person had approached and wanted to pet them… Yikes. I cringed at my own response to that.

  Before I could speak, though, Wyatt sighed. “I’m sorry. That’s not really a fair question. I gave homeless people a wide berth in my old life too. And I’m absolutely going to prioritize my dog’s safety or someone else’s feelings, even if they aren’t homeless and she isn’t a service dog.” He waved his hand. “So, no. It’s not a fair question, and you don’t have to answer it. But you can probably imagine why dog parks aren’t a good place for us right now.”

  “Yeah,” I breathed. “I get it. And… I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine the shit you’ve had to deal with.”

  “It’s rough,” he admitted. He must not have wanted to dwell on that topic, because he cleared his throat and shifted a bit. “Anyway, uh… I should toss my laundry in the dryer. Thanks again for…” He laughed softly and looked right in my eyes. “Everything, honestly.”

  “Don’t mention it.” I got up. “And I guess I should be a responsible adult and get some sleep.”

  Rising himself, he eyed the cup in my hand. “Right after you had some coffee?”

  I chuckled. “Eh, I got in the habit when I had a Swedish roommate. He always drank coffee at night, so I joined in and now, yeah, somehow it doesn’t keep me awake.” Then I frowned. “It’s not going to keep you up all night, is it?”

  Wyatt shook his head. “I could probably drink an entire coffeepot at this point and still be asleep the second I hit the pillow.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” I headed for the kitchen to rinse out my cup. “I’ll be up around seven to have breakfast. Have to leave for practice at nine.” I was about to add that he was welcome to join me for breakfast, but his face fell.

  “Oh. Right. We’ll, um…” He nodded to Lily. “We can be ready to leave by then.”

  “No,” I said without really thinking. “You don’t have to leave.”

  Wyatt stared at me. “But… I’d be alone in your house.” He gestured at the cat tree. “With your cats.”

  “You will, yeah.” I thought fast, trying to find some rational reason why I couldn’t stomach tossing him out. I mean, I couldn’t stomach the idea of throwing a man and his dog out in the cold because that was fucking wrong. But why not take him to a shelter? Why not take him somewhere other than here?

  Why do I want you to be here when I get home tomorrow?

  That was the part that didn’t make sense, and if I couldn’t articulate it to myself, I sure as hell couldn’t to him.

  Then Lily gave me my answer—she started scratching her neck with her back paw, reminding me of the conversation Wyatt had with Dr. Green before leaving the clinic.

  Gesturing at the dog, I said, “She’s gotta be on those antibiotics for ten days, right?”

  Wyatt’s eyes flicked toward her, and he nodded warily.

  “So it would probably be better for her to be…” I gestured at our surroundings.

  He chewed his lip. “Probably, yeah. But I don’t want to impose.”

  I waved that away. “It’s fine. She’ll be safer here, and so will you. So… don’t sweat it.”

  He studied me uncertainly, and I thought for a moment or two that he was going to insist on leaving. But slowly, he deflated, and his voice came out timid as he asked, “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely sure.”

  He held my gaze. Then he relaxed a little more, and a disarming smile came to life. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.” He motioned toward Lily. “We both do.”

  I managed to keep my relief out of my voice as I said, “Don’t worry about it. Oh, and I was mentioning breakfast because I’m happy to make enough for both of us. If you aren’t up by then, and I’m gone when you get up…” I gestured around my kitchen. “Have at it.”

  Wyatt blinked. “Seriously?”

  “Well, yeah.” I shrugged. “I’m not going to invite you into my house and not feed you.”

  He stared at me, and I caught myself wondering how long he’d actually been homeless. How long did it take before basic human kindness became that much of a novelty? Jesus Christ, that was a horrible thought.

  I didn’t ask, though. He looked so tired he was ready to collapse; he didn’t need me interrogating him. And I really did need sleep if I wanted to be functional at practice tomorrow.

  “Anyway,” I said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Right. See you in the morning.” He called to Lily, who was instantly at his side.

  “Hey, boys?” I snapped my fingers twice. “Bedtime!”

  Both cats immediately jumped off the cat tree with heavy thumps and galloped past us.

  “Wow.” Wyatt watched them thunder toward the stairs. “You’ve got them trained.”

  I laughed and rolled my eyes. “They get treats at bedtime. I assure you, they’re not the ones who are trained.”

  He just laughed. We headed down the hall, and at the stairs, I said, “Good night, Wyatt.”

  His smile was the most amazing thing I’d seen all day. “Good night. And thanks again.”

  Then he was on his way downstairs to the laundry room, Lily’s nails clicking on the steps behind him.

  I continued up to my bedroom, where both cats were waiting expectantly on the bed. Bear chirped at me, purring loudly and kneading on the comforter, while Moose just gave me that look that said I’d hand over the treats if I knew what was good for me.

  I knew better than to surrender their snacks until I was about to get into bed. If I did it now, then when I got into bed, they’d both try to gaslight me and convince me I’d callously denied them their treats. Well, Moose would. The few minutes it took me to brush my teeth and get undressed may actually have been enough time for Bear to forget.

  Once I’d gone through my routine, having cruelly left them to starve for almost five whole minutes, I finally had mercy and gave them their treats. Then I plugged in my phone and climbed into bed. Moose stretched out on the side that had been unoccupied for going on six months. Bear curled up by my feet.

  I usually passed out pretty quickly—my sport and my workouts had that effect—but I spent a little while lying there in the dark, thinking about everything that had transpired tonight. I couldn’t explain why I’d taken in Wyatt and Lily instead of just putting them up in a hotel or something. I couldn’t articulate in any rational way why I didn’t worry he’d do something unsavory now that he had access to my house.

  I mean, I could believe with my whole heart and head that my cats were safe. Lily clearly wasn’t aggressive, and I didn’t imagine there was any universe in which Wyatt was a threat to an animal. Not after what I’d seen at the clinic. Not after I’d realized he wasn’t just pleading with the clinic to take in his beloved dog to keep her safe—he was signing up for a night without his service dog. If they’d taken her in, he’d have been out there alone, facing the bitter cold and the demons she was there to help him cope with.

  So no, I didn’t have any reason to believe he’d ever lay a finger on Moose or Bear.

  I couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t steal anything, but I didn’t believe he would. If he did… Well, I stood by what I’d said at the clinic. The choice had been to either leave him out there to possibly die in the cold, or risk my property being damaged or stolen. If anything happened to my stuff, that was what insurance was for. At least I wouldn’t be the reason Wyatt or Lily died out there tonight.

  And what could I say? I didn’t mind some actual company. I hadn’t been able to have visitors at the house since Simon had left because we didn’t want anyone to know he’d moved out. No hanging out here with my teammates. No friends or family coming to stay. It had just been me, Bear, and Moose in this too-big house.

  So, yeah. I was glad he was here. As I slowly started to drift off, I was glad Wyatt had agreed to stay until Lily finished her medication.

  She’d be safe. He’d be safe.

  And if only for a little while, my cats and I wouldn’t be alone in this house.

  Chapter 6

  Wyatt

  When I woke up the next morning, I just lay there for a while, basking in how good I felt.

  Soft, clean sheets. A warm blanket. A mattress and pillows that were firm enough to be supportive but soft enough to be spectacularly comfortable. I still ached all over, but this was a million times better than I’d been any morning in recent memory.

  My head felt good, too. As if I’d actually slept through the entire night. In fact, I was pretty sure I had. Even when I couldn’t remember my nightmares, they usually left my head foggy and my ears ringing. This morning… none of that. Also none of that miserable pain in my stomach from going too long without eating. I ate better than some of the people out there—my VA disability didn’t put a roof over my head, but it could get me a few meals and it kept my dog fed. Still didn’t mean I was ever particularly full, though, and I inevitably woke up hungry as hell.

  I usually woke up with Lily glued to my side, too. She’d spent many nights curled against me inside my sleeping bag. After that had been stolen, I’d wrapped her in my jacket, and she’d stay as close to my chest as she could get.

  This morning? She was on her back, legs in the air and going every which direction, which her head partly buried under the pillow. When I scratched her belly, her tail started thumping against the mattress.

  I laughed into the stillness, letting my eyelids drift shut again. This was amazing.

  And we’re going to wake up like this again tomorrow? Seriously? Holy shit.

  I gazed up at the ceiling. I hadn’t imagined that conversation, had I? Anthony suggesting we stay until Lily had finished her medicine? Ten whole days?

  I exhaled, wiping a hand over my face. God, I hoped he meant it. I didn’t want to impose, and if he wanted us to leave, we would, but… I hoped and prayed he really was giving us a place to stay for…

  I had to swallow against the lump in my throat.

  A place to stay for ten. Days.

  I hated that my dog had a skin infection, that it was making her itchy, but goddamn, I couldn’t lie—I was grateful too. The infection was mild, fortunately. She had a little itchy spot, but it wasn’t causing her any serious issues or discomfort, and it had secured us a place to stay for a week and a half.

  I had no idea how I could ever hope to repay Anthony for any of this. Maybe I’d think of something over the next ten days.

  For now, I wanted to get out to the kitchen before Anthony left. I hadn’t slept too late, had I?

  There was a clock on the nightstand, and it read 8:17. Okay, good. So he’d probably still be here.

  I got up slowly, a few joints popping with the movement.

  Behind me, Lily rose, too, and her tags jingled as she stretched.

  “Feels good, doesn’t it?” I asked her. “Sleeping on a real bed?”

  She wagged her tail.

  I chuckled and tousled her ears. As I reached for my prosthetic and its liner, she jumped down and trotted to her water bowl. Once I had on my prosthetic, I poured some more food into her dish, and while she ate, I dressed.

  My first combat tour—hell, my first time going out into the field for training exercises—I’d sworn I would never again take for granted the feeling of clean clothes. The months I’d spent on the street had only driven that home, and as I dressed this morning, it was borderline orgasmic. Everything was clean. I’d showered last night. I’d cleaned the liner for my prosthetic (I did that as often as I could anyway, but nothing ever felt fully clean out there). My clothes were freshly washed, dried, and folded in a laundry basket. It was amazing.

  And it wasn’t just my clothes—I’d washed Lily’s vest as well. After she’d eaten, I put it on her, and she stayed close as I ventured out of the bedroom.

  Halfway up the hall, I caught the scent of bacon. Despite not being as empty as it usually was, my stomach growled, because… bacon.

  In the kitchen, I found Anthony sitting at one of the barstools by the counter, a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs in front of him. He had on a Seattle Bobcats hoodie, and his dark hair was wet and finger-combed. The thought he’s fucking cute brushed up against me, but another whiff of bacon chased away anything that wasn’t related to food.

  “Oh, hey.” He smiled as he put down his phone. Gesturing at the stove with his fork, he said, “I made extra. Help yourself.”

  “You sure?”

  “Of course. Plates are in the cabinet on your left. Do you want coffee? Orange juice?” He started to get up. “There’s also hot sauce if you like—”

  “Sit, sit.” I waved him back. “I don’t want to interrupt your breakfast.” With a little direction from him, I found everything I needed, and then joined him at the counter. Lily sat beside me, and I offered her a small piece of bacon, which she devoured happily.

  I started eating as he sipped his coffee. Of course everything tasted amazing. Partly because there was nothing picky about my palate these days, but it also turned out Anthony was a solid cook. Eggs were perfectly salted and not overdone, and the bacon was exactly the way I’d always liked it—not super soft, but not quite crunchy either.

  “Sleep all right?” he asked after a minute or two.

  “Better than I have in ages. Thanks.” I gestured at the food. “And this is amazing.”

  He laughed softly, and I thought he might’ve blushed. “Practice, I guess?”

  “Eh, that only goes so far. One of my buddies from the Army could not get it right. We finally convinced him that he should at least try seasoning things once in a while, and then he went to the opposite extreme, and…” I groaned and rolled my eyes. “We just had him bring beer to the barbecues after that.”

  Anthony cocked a brow as he brought up his coffee for a sip. “Did he at least have decent taste in beer?”

  I made a face and wobbled my hand in the air.

  He almost choked on his coffee, but he recovered. “Wow. See, that’s the guy who brings cups and napkins.”

  “Yeah, right,” I muttered. “He probably would’ve found the knockoff reject cups that even the PX refused to carry because they were made out of asbestos or something.”

  Anthony snorted. “Oh, God. One of those.”

  “Uh-huh. Nice guy, don’t get me wrong. Just keep his ass out of the kitchen.”

  “Sounds like one of my teammates.” He picked up a strip of bacon and bit off a piece. “Fortunately, his wife is a great cook, so she brings food to everything.” He grinned. “And it annoys him so much that we’re always like, ‘Jody cooked this, right? Not you?’”