“Maggie needed to go out,” I explain.

He lifts his head. “You didn’t go out alone, did you?” he asks.

“Matt went with me.” I yawn.

“Oh, okay,” he hums. He grabs my leg and pulls it over his hip, and my na**d girl parts are right beside his na**d boy parts. But I’m not worried, not even when I realize his parts are reaching toward mine. He kisses my forehead and murmurs, “Go back to sleep.”

I close my eyes and snuggle into him. He’s quiet and still when I say, “I love you, Pete.”

“I love you, too,” he says, his voice husky from sleep but clear. I smile and find the sweet spot where my head fits best.

Pete

I sit on the couch with Maggie at my feet. She’s not well. She hasn’t been able to stand up this morning, and so I just sit and pet her and talk to her about Reagan.

“This doesn’t look good,” Paul says, eyeing Maggie. He’s worried since Hayley is here and he doesn’t want her to mess with Maggie. It’s hard to tell a five-year-old to leave the dog alone.

“I know. I made an appointment for nine a.m.,” I say. “I just need to go and wake Reagan up.”

“Does she know how bad it is?” he asks. He’s making breakfast for Hayley, and he stops every few minutes to dance around the kitchen with her.

“I doubt it,” I grunt. “She was walking around just fine yesterday.”

“You had better go and wake her up or you’re going to be late,” Paul warns. Paul’s the timekeeper of the family.

Sam starts to put his shoes on. “I’m going with you,” he says.

“Do you want me to go, too?” Matt asks.

“Neither of you needs to go,” I remind them. “Why don’t you stay here and make a cake or something, Sam?” I ask. She might need cheering up when we come back.

He shrugs. “Okay.”

But Matt gets ready to with us, and he comes to take my place petting Maggie while I go get Reagan. I step into the room and close the door behind me. She’s kicked the covers down so that one of her boobs is exposed. Her skin is pale where her bathing suit covers her, and she has tan lines that I want to trace with my tongue. But not right now.

I sit down on the side of the bed and give her a gentle shake. “Reagan,” I say quietly. Her eyes open slowly, and she stretches, her lips spreading into a smile. “Good morning,” I say. I’m hard. I admit it. I’m a guy and she’s na**d and she came on my face last night. So, yeah, I have to adjust my junk. This isn’t the time.

“Morning,” she says, her voice hoarse from sleep.

“You need to get up,” I say. “I made an appointment for Maggie this morning at nine at the vet.”

“She still acting tired?” she asks. She sits up on the side of the bed, holding the covers up over her breasts.

It’s worse than her being tired. I’m sure of it. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” she says, covering a yawn. She looks at her clothes lying across the room.

“Do you need clothes out of the car?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I just need to get dressed and brush my teeth.”

“I’ll give you a few minutes,” I say. But what I really want to do is stay and watch her get dressed. And then undress her and do it all over again.

I walk out and Matt’s got Maggie in his lap. She doesn’t look that bad, but she’s tired. I can tell. This is a big deal. She threw up again and again last night, more than Reagan probably is even aware of. Reagan comes out a few minutes later with her hair pulled into a ponytail. She slips into the bathroom, and I hear her brushing her teeth.

She comes out, and I stand up with Maggie in my arms. “I’ll carry her down,” I say.

“She can walk, can’t she?”

I shake my head, and I see Reagan’s features cloud with worry. I start toward the door, and she follows. Matt goes with us. Reagan climbs into the backseat of her Camry, and I put Maggie in her lap. I toss the keys to Matt, and he drives so I can sit with Reagan. Reagan coos at her dog, talking softly to her about how she is going to get some vitamins and then they would go home. But I doubt that’s going to be the case.

We get to the vet’s office, and they put us in a room. The vet comes in and does a quick exam. She takes Maggie to the back for pictures and tests. She doesn’t have Maggie with her when she returns. She has her vet’s face on. “I’m sorry. I don’t have good news,” she says quietly.

Reagan covers her mouth with her hand, and a sound escapes her lips. I pull her into my side. I had a feeling this was coming. “Maggie is fifteen years old. That’s pretty old for her breed.”

“She was fine yesterday,” Reagan protests.

“She wasn’t,” the vet says, shaking her head. “She has a mass in her abdomen. It’s really big, and it’s so big that it has ruptured, so she’s bleeding into her belly. I’m very sorry.”

Reagan looks at me, her eyes gleaming with hope. “So, you take the mass out, right?”

The vet shakes her head. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t something that we can fix. I recommend that you put her to sleep.”

“When?” Reagan asks. She thinks Maggie still has time.

“Now,” she says. “Making her wait isn’t humane.”

A strangled noise comes out of Reagan’s mouth, and I pull her to me, but she shoves me away and walks to stand in the corner of the room. She paces back and forth. Then she stops. “There’s nothing you can do?” she asks, her voice small.

“I’m sorry. There’s nothing.” The vet is being as sympathetic as possible. “Do you want me to go to get her so that you can say good-bye?”

Tears roll down Reagan’s face, and I catch Matt wiping one of his own. He doesn’t even know the f**king dog and Reagan has him crying over her. But that’s Matt. “Yes, please,” Reagan whispers.

A few minutes later, they bring Maggie back, strapped to a board, and she’s lying there quietly. She doesn’t look unhappy at all, but looks can be deceiving.

“Can I have a minute with her?” Reagan asks.

We all go into the hallway and wait. After about five minutes of murmuring behind the closed door, Reagan comes out and nods. She’s ready.

The vet and an assistant come into the room. “We’re going to give her a little sedative, and then we’ll give her a shot that will stop her heart.”

Reagan’s eyes are puffy and red, and her cheeks are wet. She swipes at them, but it doesn’t matter. The vet tech gives Maggie the sedative, and Maggie lays her head down. Her eyes are wide open, and her breaths are soft. “Now we’ll give her the shot,” the vet warns.

Reagan lays a hand on Maggie’s side, but she doesn’t come closer. She already said her good-byes, I’d wager. Maggie struggles when they stick the needle into her back leg, and Reagan starts to sob. Matt reaches out and covers her hand with his, and I lean down close to Maggie’s head. Maggie’s fighting it, so I lean forward and whisper into her ear. Maggie’s eyes go wide, and then she relaxes. Her breaths slow, and then they stop. I watch her chest, and my gut clenches when I realize it’s not moving. Reagan is wrecked, and I stand up, grab Reagan, and pull her to me. She wraps herself up in my arms and lets me absorb her sobs in my shirt. I coo at her and hold her, and I don’t know what else I can do. I hear Matt making arrangements for the cremation, and they take Maggie’s collar off and hand it to Reagan before they take Maggie from the room.

Reagan sobs as Maggie leaves, and she cries in my arms until it dissolves into soft hiccups. I just hold her. There’s nothing else I can do. “Better now?” I ask.

She nods. “I thought we were just going to get some vitamins.”

I brush her hair back from her face. It’s wet and stuck to her lips. “I’m sorry,” I say.

Reagan catches my shirt in her fists and holds me, looking into my eyes. “What did you whisper to her?” she asks.

I cough into my fist because there’s a lump the size of an apple in my throat. “It doesn’t matter,” I say.

“Tell me,” she protests.

I take a deep breath and steel myself. I clear my throat. “I thanked her for protecting you all these years and told her how much I appreciate it. But that she could go ahead and leave because I got you from here on out. I told her I’d take over where she leaves off.”

Reagan falls against me and cries even more. And Matt passes me a tissue so I can blot my eyes. But he nods subtly and claps a hand on my shoulder. He squeezes my nape tightly, and I absorb it, because this is what my brothers do for me. Every single time. Reagan lets me go and hugs Matt really quickly. He squeezes her, and I think I see him drop a kiss near her hair. Damn. She’s part of the family now. No doubt.

Reagan

Pete takes my keys from Matt, who must have pocketed them when we got out at the vet’s office. I don’t complain. I can barely put one foot in front of the other, much less drive. Pete slides behind the wheel, adjusts the seat and the mirrors, and looks over at me. “You want me to call your dad for you?”

I shake my head. “I can do it.” I do need to call my parents. But I know I’ll be a sobbing mess if I try to do it now. Pete looks at the clock and swears. “What?” I ask.

“I’m supposed to be at the youth center for group at eleven,” he says. He takes my hand and squeezes it. “I’ll call and tell them I can’t go.”

“No,” I protest. I don’t want him to change his plans. My dog is dead. Him not going to help those boys isn’t going to bring her back. “You should go.” I turn around and look at Matt. “Do you want to go to the hospital and see your friend this morning?”

He looks into my eyes. “You’ve had enough sadness today.” His eyes start to dart around the car, and I can tell he’s upset.

“She’s going to die, Matt,” I say quietly. “You need to see her.”

Pete sits up tall so he can look at Matt in the rearview mirror. He’s curious about why I know so much about Matt. I should have told him that we talked last night, but I kind of feel like it was between me and Matt. “Who’s dying?” Pete asks.

“Kendra,” he says quietly.

“Oh no,” Pete breathes. He shakes his head. “You need to go, Matt. We’ll go with you.”

Matt heaves in a breath and points to me. “She can go. You can’t.”

Pete’s brow furrows. “Why can’t I go?” he asks.

“Because you have to go see the boys at the center.” He looks into my eyes. “Can we go today?” he asks.

I nod. “I’d love to.” It’ll be better than sitting around missing Maggie.

We drive across town and drop Pete off at the youth center. He gets out, adjusts his jeans, and pulls me to him. We’re standing at the front of the car, and Matt gets into the driver’s seat. I brush Pete’s shirt off. He has Maggie’s hair stuck to him in places. “Are you going to be all right with Matt?” he asks. “I don’t have to go to the meeting. I can go with you. I really don’t want to leave you today.”

“I need something to do.” It’s true. If I sit at home, I’ll think about Maggie all day. And Matt needs to do this. I can feel it in my gut. Besides, Matt doesn’t scare me. The look on his face makes me want to hug him and hold him close. He’s struggling, and I know what that’s like. Pete bangs on the hood of the car, and Matt sticks his head out.

“What the f**k do you want?” Matt grouses. But their banter is playful. I love the way they interact with one another.

“You’ll bring her home after, right?”

He shrugs. “If that’s where she wants to go.”

Pete reaches up and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “I want you to sleep in my bed.”

Butterflies take flight in my belly. “Okay,” I whisper.

“Will you do me a favor?” he asks.

I’d do just about anything for him. “What do you need?”

“Take care of Matt. He’s not as strong as he looks.”

I disagree because I’d wager he’s a lot stronger than he looks, and he looks like a linebacker. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

His lips touch mine, and it’s not a peck on my mouth. He delves in and let’s me know he’s there. When I’m breathless, he sets me back from him with a groan, his hands on my shoulders. “Don’t forget to call your parents,” he says. He walks away from me toward the youth detention center. I watch him walk, admiring his backside. He turns back and cups his hands around his mouth. “I love you,” he calls.

I shake my head and mouth the words back at him. Then I get in the car, where Matt is tapping on the wheel with his thumbs singing along with a song on the radio. He acts like he’s sticking his fingers down his throat and makes a gagging noise. “You guys will make me puke if you keep that up.” He grins, though.

I shove his shoulder. “That’s not funny.”

“No, it won’t be funny at all when I puke. I puked a lot during chemo. I’m good at it.” He laughs. He reaches out and squeezes my knee. “Call your dad on the drive. We have about an hour to kill.”

I pick up the phone and call my parents, and they put me on the speakerphone. I can’t talk about it for long without breaking down. Mom is noticeably upset, and Dad wants to drive to the city to be sure I’m all right.