Noah Cortez was burning in his skin. The fire was all in his mind, of course, like a war that raged inside himself. Razing everything he’d once been and turning the landscape unrecognizable. And yet, here he stood, making small talk over burgers and dogs at his parents’ annual Memorial Day barbecue. His first one since he’d been discharged from the Marine Corps.

Joining the party had been a mistake. Just like he knew it would be. Because Noah sure as hell didn’t feel like he had anything to celebrate, least of all himself. He was trying his best to hold his shit together, but every time one of his parents’ friends thanked him for his service he kinda wanted to puke. Or punch someone. And since neither was socially acceptable, he’d retreated to the edge of the party. More observer than participant.

Which sounded a helluva lot like his life right now.

Because Noah was lost.

Johnson. Kendrick. Martinez. Fender. Smythe. Khan. Stein…

He concentrated on the names of his fallen buddies from the Marine Corps. Those were the men who deserved to be memorialized, and they were also the single best reminder of why Noah should be grateful to be alive. Because he knew he should be.

“Noah? Hey, Noah, you all right?”

Blinking out of the thoughts, Noah found his father and brother Josh looking at him with that expression. The one that said he’d totally checked out again, that they were worried about him, and that they knew he wasn’t all there. Not anymore.

Partial deafness and blindness from an IED explosion and brain injury did that to a man. Among other things.

Noah’s gut clenched and he tried to subtly shift his stance to put his good right ear closer to the conversation. “Yeah, sure,” he said, taking a swig of his beer. He’d been holding it so long it had gone warm.

His dad nodded, his gray eyes scanning Noah’s face and not missing a thing. Despite the fact that Elias Cortez was not his biological father, his stepdad had been able to read Noah almost from the very beginning, when he’d been a seven-year-old still grieving over the loss of his father in a car accident two years before. Inability to fake it in front of the man—in front of anyone, really—was one of the reasons Noah preferred being alone these days. “Was just wondering what time you can get into your new place on Saturday,” his dad asked louder.

“Rental office opens at nine,” Noah said, the gaze of his good right eye drifting over his dad’s shoulder to the colorful lanterns strung up around the big backyard. The sun was setting, making them glow against the surrounding woods. “I don’t have a lot to move, though, so it shouldn’t take long.”

He’d gone right from college graduation to five years in the Corps, so he’d never had time to accumulate much. In the seven months since he’d been medically discharged, he’d been living in his parents’ basement in Alexandria, Virginia. Trying to figure out what to do with his life. Going to physical therapy and doctors’ appointments to try to get his body working again. Occasionally seeing the shrink to get his head screwed back on right. The latter was a losing proposition, for sure. At least, that’s how it felt.

His dad nodded. “We’re giving you the furniture downstairs.”

Noah smothered the frustration that had built over months of his parents worrying about him. Like he couldn’t take care of himself. Like he wasn’t a grown-ass man with a healthy savings account and a body that was mostly able despite the fact it didn’t work like it had before. He knew they meant well. But what they didn’t know was that their good intentions were feeding into how bad he already felt about himself. Not that he really needed much help in that department. “Don’t have to do that. I can get what I need.”

His father smirked and arched a brow. “Your mother insists. Take it up with her if you want to register a complaint.”

“Better just take it,” Josh said, grinning. Two years older, his brother reminded Noah so much of the man he used to be that it was sometimes hard to be around him now. Big smile, wicked sense of humor, glass-half-full outlook, and his whole life planned out to the last letter. He was an associate in a law firm with a growing book of business and the respect of everyone who knew him.

“Hey, babe,” Josh’s fiancé Maria said, coming up to stand beside him. She threaded her arm through his. “Ready to grab some food?”

Josh kissed her temple, his nose nuzzling against her wavy black hair. “Absolutely. Wanna join?” Josh asked, looking from their father to Noah.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Dad said, clapping Noah on the shoulder. “Gonna go help your mother.”

Noah shrugged. “I’m good for now.” He tried to give them a smile, but wasn’t sure it came off.

As Noah watched the couple walk away, something squeezed inside him. Because there was another thing that Josh had that Noah didn’t, and wouldn’t—a relationship with a good woman who loved him. Josh and Maria were engaged to be married in August, and Noah was happy for them. He really was. At least, he tried to be. But he hated how Josh’s happiness made him feel even worse about himself.

Despite agreeing to be the best man at his brother’s wedding, Noah was rocking some not-so-healthy feelings about the whole thing. Resentment that his brother’s life seemed to be falling into place so easily. Jealousy that the guy had things Noah wasn’t sure he’d ever find, now. Because what woman would want a man so twisted up inside that on some level he resented his own brother’s happiness?

Worse, Noah wasn’t just jealous and resentful, as if those weren’t soul-sucking enough.

He was angry. Irrationally so. At Josh having what he didn’t. At Josh being whole while Noah was so damn broken. At…everything. Noah gripped the bottle in his hands so tight he thought it might crack. At least the glass slicing into his palm would give him something else to think about.

And then he found himself really wishing the glass would do its worst—because right at that moment, the thing he’d been most dreading at this party happened.

Kristina Moore stepped out from the back door of his parents’ house onto the wide wooden deck.

And, God, with her long blond hair, bright blue eyes, warm peaches-and-cream skin, and pale pink dress flowing almost to the ground around those generous curves, she was such a lovely fucking vision that it made his chest ache. She’d always been pretty, but now she seemed to have come into her own. Kristina was more outgoing, more confident, more independent than she’d been when he’d left for the Marines. And it was so fucking sexy.

That sexiness also confused the hell out of Noah. Because Kristina was his best friend. Had been since his family had moved into this neighborhood after his mom and stepdad married, since they’d been kids riding bikes and camping in the backyard and having movie nights in one another’s basements. While he’d been overseas, the steady stream of care packages she’d sent and their regular email exchanges and Skype sessions had helped him beat away the worst of the homesickness. She was two years younger than Noah, but the difference had never mattered. They’d clicked on grief over their fathers and so many other things…

Kristina scanned the crowd, and he knew she was looking for him. Just like always. Just like old times. When hanging out together was a given. Only, the Noah standing in the growing darkness wasn’t the man she used to know.

When Kristina spotted him hanging at the edge of the party, her whole face brightened. And, man, if that wasn’t a kick in the gut. Because as much as a part of Noah wanted to see her, talk to her, hang with her, he also didn’t. Because if she realized just how fucked up he’d become, just how much like her old man he was, he didn’t think he could stomach seeing the pity in her eyes.

Or the disappointment. Or the fear. And she knew him too damn well.

It was why he’d been avoiding her since he got home. At some point he was going to break, and he didn’t want to do it in her presence.

Kristina cut through the party and came right up to him, the dress flowing behind her. “Hey, you,” she said, a warm, sexy grin on her face. Without a moment of hesitation, she pressed her body against him and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tight.

He couldn’t keep his muscles from bracing against the touch, against the way her full breasts crushed against his chest and her soft hair caressed his neck. “Hey,” Noah managed. God, she smelled like sweet vanilla cream. Her heat soaked into him and warmed places that felt so very cold. He was so unused to feeling anything good that he started to harden.

Which showed just how messed up he was. Because how many times over the years had they joked about being squarely and happily in the friend zone? Dos amigos. Best buds. Best friends. Without benefits. The one time they’d given kissing a try when she was about fourteen it had felt so weird they’d laughed about it for the rest of the night.

Noah valued their friendship down into his very soul, because it was quite likely the most meaningful relationship with a woman he’d ever had. Maybe the most meaningful relationship he had, period. No one knew him like Kristina did. Now, given the ugliness inside him, he hoped no one else ever did.

Before he chased more of that pleasurable goodness by grinding his erection against her, Noah stepped backward out of the circle of her arms, shrugging her off more blatantly than he’d intended. The flash of hurt and confusion in her eyes cut him down deep, but this was Kristina, for Christ’s sake. Not someone to get off on. Not someone to disappoint. And not someone to scare, either.

Tension and stress made his muscles go taut, and a shakiness bloomed inside his gut. Behind both eyes, a headache throbbed, and a distant ringing sound played deep within his good ear.

God, not now.

Whenever something stressed him out these days, anxiety needled its way through him and ambushed his central nervous system like a damn insurgent. Noah hated it.

“So, guess what?” she said, a smile coming back to her lips.

“What?” Noah said, restlessness flooding through him. His gaze pinged around the yard, identifying escape routes. Prickles ran down his spine.

“I got the job at the Art Factory for the summer. So I get to teach poetry and short story workshops and I’ll only have to teach one block of regular summer school,” she said, her voice so full of excitement, of life. Kristina taught middle school language arts, but she’d also published some of her poetry and stories in literary magazines.

“That’s great,” Noah said, fisting his hands against the sensation of his fingertips going numb. Judging by how her expression dimmed, his reaction had disappointed her. He’d disappointed her. Just like he knew he would. “Really. Good for you,” he added, but it came out breathy and unconvincing because his chest had gone tight.

He needed to get away before he ended up having a full-blown panic attack in front of all these people. In front of Kristina. In front of his parents and brother. In front of all these strangers. Embarrassing himself and ruining everyone’s night. But if he could just leave and get himself together for a few minutes, then maybe he could come back and act like a normal human being.

Sometimes, he really fucking wished he’d had a limb blown off, or that the injuries to the left side of his face hadn’t healed so well. Then at least he’d have an obvious reason for struggling to readjust to civilian life. Then people would look at him and just know what his fucking problem was.

Kristina hugged herself, her arms pushing the mounds of her breasts together under the low V-neck of her dress. “Yeah, so—”

“I, uh…” Noah tore his gaze away from her cleavage and swallowed hard. “Gotta…go…,” he said, not even sure of the words coming out of his mouth. And then he pushed past her and headed toward the house, not turning back when Kristina called his name.

No doubt disappointing her one more time.