Page 207 of Wild Then Wed
“But I stuck with it because I believe in this work. I believe in this community. And I believe animals deserve to be cared for with the same dignity and urgency as the people who rely on them.”
He glances down, then back up.
“I’m grateful to the staff at my clinic—some of the hardest working people I know. To Joel Valentine, who’s been with me since the beginning and still manages to be the most annoying and the most reliable person in my life. To the ranchers and farmers who’ve trusted me with their livelihoods. To the families who let me care for their pets like they were my own.”
Then he pauses, his gaze drifting toward our table.
“But the biggest thank you has to go to my beautiful wife.”
My stomach drops a little. And then, in slow motion it seems, every head in the room turns to look at me.
I lean back in my seat, my cheeks heating, and offer a small, stunned smile. Nova grins wide beside me, nudging my arm again like she’s watching a rom-com play out in real life.
Sawyer keeps going, his voice quieter now. More sure.
“She walked into my life and turned it into something better. Not flashier. Just better. Calmer. More honest. She’s the reason I sleep through the night again. The reason I remember to stop and breathe and look up once in a while.”
His voice wavers just slightly, but he steadies it.
“She’s helped me become someone I’m proud to be. She’s the reason I show up better—at work, in life, for the people who count on me. So if I make any sort of difference from here on out, it’s because she made one in me first.”
His gaze sweeps the room, then lands on mine. He smiles—soft and real and a little uneven—and says, “Thank you, Wren Margaret Hart. For being exactly who you are. And for shaping me into the man I am today.”
He holds my gaze as the room begins to clap again—soft at first, then stronger—and I can’t look away. My hands feel shaky and sweaty in my lap.
I can tell he means every word. And for the first time in a long time, I don’t want to hide from love. I want to run right toward it.
Right into him.
Chapter 36
SAWYER
Hank’s passed out in the middle of the bed like he paid for the damn thing. Legs splayed, tongue lolling out of his mouth, dead to the world.
We’re both in front of the bathroom sink now, brushing our teeth like we’ve done it this way for years. Her hair’s pulled back into a messy bun, loose strands curling at the nape of her neck. She’s still in her dress, barefoot now, and there’s something so stupidly domestic about the whole thing I can’t stop looking at her in the mirror.
She catches me staring and points her toothbrush at me. “I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me about the award, Sawyer.”
I shrug, toothpaste in the corner of my mouth. “Wasn’t that big of a deal.”
Wren finishes brushing, spits, then lifts her brows at me like she’s about to read me a bedtime story and it’s calledBullshit. She wipes her mouth with the hand towel, turns, and points directly at the crystal trophy resting under a pool of lamplight. “Thatisn’t a big deal?”
I glance at it. Maybe it’s a little bit of a big deal.
The Northern Plains Veterinary Excellence Award isn’t something they hand out often. It’s reserved for people who’vecontributed something meaningful to the field—especially in rural medicine. People who’ve gone beyond treating animals and found ways to support the people who depend on them, too. Ranchers, farmers, folks with no time or money to spare but a hell of a lot to lose.
I’d been in the middle of checking a colt for joint ill when Dr. Marcus Jennings—president of the Rural Vet Alliance and someone I’ve looked up to since I started vet school—called me. Said he’d been following my work with the clinic, the large-animal outreach I’ve been building from scratch these last few years. That the committee was unanimous in choosing me.
I remember just staring at the call log afterward, feeling like all the years of driving back roads in the dark and crawling into freezing stalls had somehow…counted.
For a long time, it felt like I was building this thing alone. Long hours. Constant emergencies. Taking on cases no one else would touch. Running a practice that put people over profit in a world where the bottom line usually wins. There were nights I slept on the surgery room floor. Days I forgot to eat. Sometimes it felt like I was pouring everything I had into a hole I couldn’t fill.
But even after the call, I didn’t think about telling anyone. Not because it didn’t matter, but because it didn’t feel like something to announce. I didn’t want the night to be about that. I just wanted to bring her. I wanted to see her in that dress. I wanted to dance with her and not care who was watching.
And then I saw her, sitting out there in the crowd while they called my name, her eyes wide and shining like she’d never seen me before—and that right there? That was the best part of all of it. I want to spend the rest of my life chasing that look. Making her proud.
I glance over at her now. She’s leaned up against the counter, watching me. There’s still a tiny streak of toothpaste foam onher chin. I wipe it with my thumb, then lean in and kiss her forehead.
