And in the middle of them is Tyler, his back to me, his cargo pants already covered in streaks of mud, his stance wide as he tosses out names and warnings, like a schoolyard supervisor watching children.
Now that I know the feel of his body far more intimately, the pull to him is much more potent.
The dogs notice me before Tyler does, and several charge forward. The rush would be daunting, had I not grown up around this, had I not already met each of them personally at the race. I laugh as they all greet me at once, nipping at my fingers, brushing past, several jumping, leaving muddy paw prints on my legs and waist, reminding me why I don’t dress nicely when I visit kennels.
“Airi,” Tyler calls out, his voice calm but his tone warning as the black swing dog tests the leather handle on my bag with his teeth.
“They’re excited today.”
“They know I’m taking them to the creek.”
There’s a strained note in Tyler’s voice that prickles my senses. I’ve heard that in his voice before—when he was preparing to leave the Cripple checkpoint. And when he turns, when I see the dark circles that line his eyes, as if he didn’t sleep last night after he went home, I know something is wrong.
“You got them?” he asks Reed as he walks my way.
Reed pauses in his attempt to harness Nymeria with a gray husky nipping at his hands, stealing a glance my way before he nods.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Tyler’s hand slips over the small of my back to guide me toward the barn, but even that simple touch feels off compared to how his hands felt on me last night.
I hold my breath to calm the dread already building along my spine as he pulls the barn door shut to keep the dogs from following.
And when his Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow …
I know, before the words have even left his mouth.
“I thought I was ready. But I’m not.” Hazel eyes plead with me to understand.
I absorb those words like a hard punch to my chest.
“I’m so sorry, Marie.”
“I just … What does that even mean?” I can’t help the sharpness in my voice. We both know what we did last night. And when he left me, he seemed to do so reluctantly, turning back three times for another kiss. So, what happened between then and now?
I’m afraid I already know the answer.
When I’m with you, I forget about everything else.
But then Tyler went home, and he remembered.
“I didn’t think about them once all night, Marie. Not once while I was with you. It’s as if I was ready to replace him, just like that.” His voice grows hoarse, his lengthy eyelashes blinking against the sheen materializing.
Him. He must be talking about his son.
My heart pangs with sorrow as I reach for him. “Tyler, that’s not what that was—”
“I know. But it’s how I feel right now.” He swallows again. “I’m not ready to move on. God, Marie, you are incredible. I love everything about you … and when I’m with you, I fool myself into believing that I’m ready, but I’m not.” He shakes his head with resolution. “I don’t know how to love two women at the same time.”
I’m not sure what that means—is Tyler admitting that he loves me? Or that he won’t be able to—but it confirms what I always knew would be a problem.
A snarl sounds outside. Too many dogs left waiting for too long.
“They’re getting impatient.” Tyler reaches for the handle but stalls. “I’ll stand by whatever you decide to do. You know, if it comes to that.”
He means if I’m pregnant. It feels like another punch, this time to my stomach. “How considerate.”
“Marie—”
“No. Just … no.” I spin and rush away, needing distance to process this.
Rolling in behind the nauseating wave of hurt and disappointment is resentment. At Tyler, for leading me so far down this path only to leave me stranded, but mostly at myself, for being so damn stupid. I knew Tyler was still very much in love with someone else. A woman he still reaches for in the night, who he races a thousand miles across the Alaskan tundra for while wearing her name on his sleeve.
I knew all this, and still I let myself fall for him.
I’m halfway through the barn before I remember why I came here. As much as I want to head straight for my truck and drive off, I veer toward the birthing room, gritting my teeth to keep my tears at bay.
When I emerge, Tyler and the dogs are long gone, and the kennel is quiet.