"Hey, c'mon, Em, settle down. We can talk about-"

"We're not going to talk about anything!" Emma stomped her foot and looked around the barn in desperation, trying not to completely lose it. She took a big breath. "We're divorced. Does this ring a bell? I am your ex-wife, Aaron. You are no longer my problem and I don't give a damn what unbelievably stupid thing you've done this time because it has nothing to do with me. Are we clear on this?"

Aaron shoved his hands in his pockets and looked contrite. "It was a parlay and it was one of those fluke things. It wasn't my fault."

Emma threw up her hands, the lead line snapping in the air. "My God! It's never your fault, is it? It's always somebody else's fault, somebody else's screwup-never your responsibility for making such dumb-ass decisions in the first place!" She felt the tears building and fought hard against them. She would not let him see her cry.

She turned away and hung the rope on its peg, then took several calming breaths before she had the courage to look him in the face.

Aaron Kramer had been a good vet. He could be sweet and witty and fun. Emma had loved him so much, for so long, that she could hardly remember a time when he wasn't at the center of her life.

They'd had their minor differences in opinion through the years, but Emma and Aaron had always shared the same basic philosophy about life and work. But that day about a year ago, the day Aaron lost his cool with a patient, was the end for them.

He'd screamed at an owner-told her right to her face that she was more fucked up than her crazy dog-and suggested she be the one euthanized instead of the animal. The owner ran crying from the practice. The dog was destroyed later that day over Emma's protests.

And Emma suddenly knew that Aaron was a lost cause. That he was beyond her help. That her love no longer made enough difference. It was then that she saw him as two entirely different people. One Aaron was kind and brilliant and loving. The other was so twisted up in his addictions that he no longer even pretended to carry out his duty to care for people and their pets, let alone his duty to her. All that mattered was the rush, the thrill, the sickness.

That day, she knew that Aaron was going down-and she refused to go down with him.

Emma studied him now, in need of a shave and obviously tired, and did the only thing she knew would ever help. "You have an illness, Aaron," she said.

He shut his eyes and groaned.

"You're a brilliant, caring man in so many ways and you've worked so hard to get where you are-I know because I was right there at your side the whole way, remember? But you're going to lose everything." She sighed heavily. "God, Aaron, you need help again, another inpatient program. Please get some help."

His eyes flew open and he laughed bitterly. "What I need is a thousand dollars, not another fucking lecture from you."

Emma let go with a sharp laugh of her own. "It was eight hundred just a minute ago-is the interest accruing that fast?"

Aaron rubbed his eyes. "I meant to say a thousand."

"Get out of here. Leave."

"Emma, listen. It's bad this time. Believe me. I'm in trouble." He grabbed her hard around the upper arms. "Please. You've got to help me."

"I said don't touch me!" She shoved her hands flat against his chest until he let go. "I've had an unbelievably shitty day-a shitty week, in fact, that happened to include finalizing our divorce-and I refuse to let you do this to me! Get out of here!"

Right then Emma felt a nudging against the outside of her leg. Ray was there at her side, probably drawn by the raised voices. She watched Aaron's deep brown eyes flicker toward the dog, then return to her face. His expression was now flat, an indication that he'd decided to drop the charm routine.

"You owe it to me," he said.

"I don't owe you a freaking thing!" Her mouth opened in astonishment. "You are something else, Kramer."

"Just one last time."

Emma felt a wave of failure and loss wash over her, so black and airless that she nearly drowned in it. It took every bit of strength she had to put an end to the encounter. She squared her shoulders.

"I'll give you one last deal, Aaron. Take it or leave it. I won't call in all your outstanding IOUs if you leave right now and swear you'll never come back. I don't ever want to see you again. That's worth ten thousand to me, easy."

Aaron said nothing, just glared at her a moment before he turned back to his car. He opened the door and began to lower himself inside but stopped. He turned to her, and cocked his head.

"You have no idea what you've just done," he whispered, the corners of his mouth turning down, trembling. "Take good care, Emma."

The big engine rumbled awake and she watched him race down the lane, an angry cloud of gravel and dust spewing into the air behind him.

Emma stood without moving for a long while, feeling the numbness spread to her limbs, her heart. Then she walked toward the east pasture, folded her arms along the fence, and propped a foot on the lower rail.

The warmth of the evening sun hit her back, and for a moment it felt like somebody was stroking the tension out of her shoulders, like someone's gentle caress. But it was her imagination, and it made her feel so alone.

Right then, it all came crashing down on her-the scene with Leelee that morning, the shameful sting of Thomas Tobin's rejection, and now Aaron's latest attempt to use her. It was too much, and it squeezed powerfully at her chest, wrung out her heart, and she started to cry.

Emma turned her head and rested her cheek on her folded arms. She felt the tears run downhill and tickle her wrist.

Here she was trying to show a young girl how to successfully deal with life, when she'd totally screwed up her own! Who in the world said she was fit to be a mother? Why was it that she had to pass a grueling three-day board examination before she could care for a Schnauzer yet didn't have to demonstrate any aptitude whatsoever to hold the life of a human child in her hands?

Emma swallowed back a sob and shook her head. The look in Leelee's eyes that morning had been such a raw mix of fear and vulnerability that it nearly broke Emma's heart. She knew all too well how it felt to grow up without your mother there to guide you. It was scary as hell. And she didn't have any magic answers for Leelee. In fact, Emma was quite aware she had no idea what she was doing-she was making it up as she went along.

She sniffled and turned over onto the other cheek, blinking back another round of tears.

Then there was Thomas Tobin. How stupid could she have been? It amazed her that she'd actually thought there was something special about that man, that there had been a connection between them. How had she made the mistake of thinking he was interested in her?

The truth was that he was a conflicted jerk and she didn't want anything more to do with him-not that she'd been given much of a choice in the matter.

She knew that at the core of it, the Thomas Tobin two-step was nothing but a typical case of fear-based aggression. In her mind, she pictured him as a big yellow Lab who'd been teased and hurt one time too many, who'd turned mean in an attempt to protect himself.

He had all the classic signs. He answered many of her questions in an indirect manner. He limited his eye contact. He tried not to reveal emotion. He was uncomfortable with physical contact. And he tried to puff himself up with all that stupid macho rugby garbage in an attempt to insulate himself from future hurt. It was his way of saying to the world, "Back off! You really don't want to mess with me!"

Issues? You bet your ass he had issues!

On Monday, she'd have Velvet transfer Hairy's follow-up care to someone else.

She wiped her eyes and thought of that little dog. Poor Hairy. Of all the animal's problems, the biggest was that he was now owned by an emotionally impaired idiot.