Kristina stepped up to Noah’s apartment door full of determination. Part of which had been fueled by Kate, who’d been sending her encouraging texts all morning. Things like,

Stop waiting for Prince Charming. Go find him. The poor idiot may be stuck up in a tree or something.

COURAGE: Do one brave thing today…then run like hell.

Just chuck it in the fuck it bucket and move on!

Stay stroganoff. Which she quickly followed up with, Bahahaha! Best autocorrect ever!

Kristina knocked on the door. After about a minute, she did it again. Glancing out at the parking lot, she reconfirmed that Noah’s car was here. She waited another minute or two, and knocked a third time, this time with her fist instead of her knuckles.

She pulled out her cell and texted him, I’m not leaving until you open your door.

Twin reactions coursed through her—irritation at his continued avoidance, and worry that maybe there was a reason he wasn’t answering.

She texted again, I’m using my key to come in.

At that, she dropped her phone in her purse and dug out her keys, which included the one he gave her last weekend. She slid the key in the lock and opened the door.

Inside, everything was quiet and dim, all the slats on the blinds pulled shut. “Noah?”

She dropped her purse on the coffee table and passed through the big open living area to the hall that led toward his bedroom, the bathroom, and the office. Something crunched underfoot.

Frowning, Kristina reached into the bathroom and flicked on the light switch. The bathroom mirror was shattered in a giant spider web of cracks that radiated out from a single, central break.

Kristina rushed toward the bedroom and pushed through the mostly closed bedroom door.

Noah was sprawled on his stomach wearing only a pair of black boxers, most of the sheets, blankets, and pillows knocked to the ground. Blood stains streaked across the top of the sheets. Kristina’s stomach fell to the floor and she was on the bed in an instant, grasping his shoulder as gently as she could in her growing panic. “Noah.” She shook him.

He came awake on a holler and flipped over, pinning her to the mattress with his forearm high across her chest. The movement was so fast and so unexpected that it’d happened before she fully realized what he was doing.

She should’ve known better than to scare him awake like that. “Noah, it’s Kristina!”

“Kris?” He flew back off of her onto his knees and kept on going, stumbling off the edge of the bed and backing into the chest of drawers beyond it. “What? What are…” He shook his head, then dropped it into his hand on a groan.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” she said, her heart racing in her chest. “You weren’t answering your door and then I saw the broken glass and the blood.” And now that she was regaining her wits about her, she noticed something else. A sickly sour smell. Sitting up, she saw a plastic trash can pulled to the side of the bed, something watery sitting in the bottom of it. “You got sick?” she asked, looking back to him again. “Jesus, Noah, what happened?”

He staggered to the edge of the bed and sank down onto it, his back toward her. He braced his elbows on his knees and stared down at the ground. “Please go,” he said.

“What? No. You need me,” she said, standing up.

“No. No, I don’t. I want you to go.”

“Well, that’s too damn bad.” She turned on the bedside lamp.

Noah groaned.

“Let me see your hand,” she said, coming around to his side of the bed.

“It’s fine.” He blocked whatever injuries he had with his good hand.

“The sheets look like it bled a lot. You could need stitches.”

“I don’t.” He spoke without looking at her.

Sighing, Kristina turned away, grabbed the trash can, and carried it into the bathroom.

“Don’t go in there,” Noah called.

Ignoring him, she tried to step around the broken glass, most of which covered the sink and vanity, and dumped the contents of the bucket into the toilet. She flushed on a grimace, then put the bucket under the bathtub faucet and filled it halfway up to rinse it out.

Standing in the bedroom doorway, she saw he hadn’t moved from where she’d left him. “When was the last time you ate?”

“I don’t want you here, Kristina,” he said, shoulders rounded and down.

“Too bad.” She pushed away the hurt his words caused, because she could only imagine how much he’d hate anyone seeing him this way. But none of that mattered right now. Not why she’d come or what she’d wanted to tell him or what might or might not be going on between them. Not when he was in such bad shape. “I’ll sweep up the bathroom floor and then make you something to eat. Then maybe you could take a shower.”

“Don’t touch a piece of that glass,” he said, heaving himself to his feet. He turned to her, and holy crap, his abdomen looked noticeably leaner since she’d seen him three days ago, and his face appeared almost gaunt. He came around the end of the bed.

Kristina stepped right in his way. “Listen to me, Marine. You’ve been puking and you’re bleeding all over the place, so I’m giving the orders and I’m telling you to sit your stubborn ass down and give me five freaking minutes to take care of you.” She jabbed her finger toward the bed.

He glared at her for a long minute, then sat wearily, like even that took some effort.

Satisfied that he was going to cooperate, at least for the near future, she found the broom and dustpan tucked into the gap beside the refrigerator. She finished rinsing out the trash can and then cleaned all the broken glass off the sink and vanity into it.

“I hate that you’re doing that,” he said from the other room, his tone full of frustration.

“I know,” she called back. What had made him punch the mirror? Between this, the weight loss, and getting sick, something bad had been happening to him the past few days. That much was clear.

The tile in the bathroom and the hardwoods in the hall made sweeping what had fallen to the floor fairly easy, but it took it a few minutes to wipe up all the little tiny slivers. When she was done, she spread out a big towel on the floor of the bathroom just in case she’d missed anything.

“Bathroom’s all yours,” she said.

Then she went on a hunting and gathering mission in his kitchen, where she was hoping to find— Yup. At least some things didn’t change. Among the boxes of cereal and protein bars, he had a whole stack of instant cup of noodles soup. For some reason, he’d always loved the stuff.

Down the hall, the bathroom door clicked shut. A moment later, the beat of the shower water sounded out.

She nuked a big cup of water, spending the time wondering what had happened to him while she’d been fretting about him not calling. Guilt settled on her shoulders like a wet woolen blanket. She should’ve come sooner.

The microwave dinged and she poured the near-boiling water into the soup’s Styrofoam container. By the time the noodles were soft, the shower water was off again.

She set everything on the table and sat down to wait.

A few minutes later, Noah emerged wearing a pair of old black sweat pants and a gray T-shirt with water droplets showing through the cotton where he hadn’t bothered to dry off. And, God, he was beautiful to her even when he was so torn apart. He sat heavily in the chair beside her. “Kristina—”

“Eat first, talk second.”

He grumbled under his breath but picked up his spoon and dug into the broth. Noah ate slowly at first, but then much quicker, like he was so hungry he couldn’t get the food in fast enough. Band-Aids covered four places on his knuckles and fingers, and the bruising looked worse this time than when he’d gone head-to-head with the shower tiles. Without asking, she made him a second container of soup. He ate that one slower, but finished every last bit of it.

“When did you last eat?” she asked.

“I can talk now?” He gave her a look.

She gave him one right back.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “What, uh, what day is it?”

The question was like a sucker punch to the gut. She nearly gasped. “It’s Friday afternoon,” she managed.

“Uh, then, yesterday morning. I think. I had some cereal.”

And she’d seen what had become of that.

“What’s going on with you?” Everything inside her wanted to reach out to him, touch him, comfort him, but he was radiating a desire for space so loudly that it nearly hurt her ears.

Staring down at the table, he shook his head. “Not in a good place right now. Had another flashback. Flipped out over it, and then I felt so drained all I wanted to do was sleep. So that’s what I did.”

An ache bloomed inside her chest. “What made you get sick?”

“My equilibrium was all fucked up and it made me nauseous.” God, his voice sounded so flat.

“Is it better now? Do you need me to drive you to your doctor?”

He lifted his eyes to her, and they were flat, too. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why am I—” She shook her head and bit her tongue, taking a moment to rein in the anger his question caused. “You know why I’m doing this, Noah.”

He didn’t say anything for a long minute.

She rose and started clearing his place. He gently grabbed her hand. “Stop. Just stop.”

Kristina sank back into her chair. And for possibly the first time in her life, she had absolutely no idea what to say to Noah Cortez.

No way was she sharing her feelings when he was like this. But asking questions didn’t seem to be helping him. And it felt like they were two sentences away from an argument she had no interest in having.

“I texted you,” she finally said. “I was…worried.”

He gave a tight nod. “I saw a few, but then my battery died. I’m not even sure where my phone is right now.”

“Why didn’t you respond?” she asked, working hard to keep her tone neutral. Because she really didn’t want to fight with him.

A long pause. “I didn’t know what to say.”

The echo of her own thoughts from a moment ago made her heart feel like it was about to break in half. “Anything would’ve been better than nothing.”

He chuffed out a humorless laugh. “Nothing.” He shook his head. “You’re right. Anything would be better than nothing. But neither would be as much as everything.”

Huh? She frowned as she replayed his words. “You’ve lost me.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess I have.” He stacked his soup cups inside one another, gathered the remains of his lunch into his hands, and carried it all over to the trash and sink. After a moment, he turned around and braced his hands on the counter on either side of his hips. “I’m sorry that I didn’t respond. And that I made you worry. And that you had to come over here to…all this.”

Kristina stood and leaned against the breakfast bar opposite Noah. “I’m only sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

“I’m not,” he said.

“Are you trying to push me away?” she blurted. She couldn’t believe she’d just asked that, but this cold, distant, unfeeling routine was crawling under her skin and making her crazy.

He cocked his head and stared at her, and then he nodded. “Maybe.”

With that one word, it was like he reached inside her chest and squeezed his hand around her heart. For a few seconds after he spoke, she found it hard to draw in a breath.

“Wow,” she finally said, finding it nearly inconceivable that they’d come to this…this emptiness. How had the best sex of her life broken them into so many pieces? “I’m going to leave now.” She nailed him with a stare. “Not because you’ve succeeded in pushing me away, but because I think it’s best to give you the space you so obviously want before you do.”

Kristina went to leave, and then she quickly turned back, stepped up to him, and pecked a kiss against his cheek. Everything inside of her wanted to linger there against him, breathing him in and holding him tight. She wanted that so much that pulling away was almost painful.

But she made herself walk away. She collected her purse and stepped to the door, conflicted words and thoughts tumbling through her mind. “I’m here for you, Noah. All you have to do is ask.”

She didn’t wait for him to reply.