By seven o’clock on Friday night, Kristina was already in her favorite nightgown—a pretty yellow little thing with blue ribbons under the bust, along the shoulders, and along the frilly bottom hem.

It was beyond pathetic.

This had been her first week of summer break, and she’d barely left the house except to teach her workshop at the Art Factory, which met on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. She’d actually been really glad for those classes, because they’d given her something fun and rewarding to think about, something to distract her from the ragged hole that existed right in the center of her chest.

The hole caused by removing Noah from her life.

And damn, it wasn’t easy to do.

She couldn’t stop thinking about him, no matter how much she tried to distract herself with TV or books or work for her class. And she occasionally unthinkingly reached for her phone to text him, not remembering until her fingers hit the keys that she couldn’t. Or, at the very least, shouldn’t.

Clearly, she had a long way to go.

For his part, Noah hadn’t reached out to her, either. And frankly, that seemed to say quite a lot.

Oh, God, it hurts.

Sitting on the couch, laptop in her lap, she pressed a hand against her chest and tried to take a deep breath.

Knock, knock, knock.

Kristina frowned, then shifted everything off her lap and made for the door. Glancing down at herself, she decided her nightgown wasn’t too revealing, so she pulled open the door just a little.

Her stomach plunged to the floor.

Noah.

She’d half thought it would be Kate, who’d been on a non-stop Kristina-watch ever since Saturday night, stopping by, texting, and sending her funny links at regular intervals to make sure she was okay and try to cheer her up.

“What are you doing here?” Kristina finally asked.

His expression fell and he shifted his feet, making her notice the blue cooler bag dangling from his one hand. Oh. My. God. He did not bring her ice cream.

“Um, well, can I come in?” he asked.

She was a hundred percent certain neither of them had ever had to ask the other one to be allowed in, and it hurt to hear him say those words because it revealed just how messed up they were now.

It hurt even worse to say, “No. Tell me why you’re here.”

He frowned, and the longer Kristina looked at him, the more she noticed that Noah…didn’t look good. Dark circles marred the skin beneath flat, bloodshot eyes. His cheeks appeared hollow. And holy crap, even with a T-shirt and jeans on she would’ve sworn he’d lost weight since last weekend. Again.

“I wanted to talk to you.” He shrugged. “Maybe hang out.”

Her jaw dropped. “Hang out?”

“Yeah.” He held up the cooler. “Reverse dinner?”

“Noah—”

“Please, Kristina,” he said, stepping closer, close enough that all that separated them was the invisible plane where the door would be if she shut it. “At least let me apologize.”

Almost sure that Kristina was going to regret it, she nodded, opened the door wider, and stepped out of Noah’s way. He came in and dropped the cooler on the table, then turned toward her. His gaze raked over her nightgown, and Kristina hated the heat that rushed over her skin in its wake. But that reaction proved that her decision about their relationship had been the right one.

Noah held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m sorry,” he said. “For so many things, Kristina. For the way I talked to you. For the way I’ve been treating you, all the way back to when I came home. I’ve just felt so bad about myself that I didn’t want you to see it. But that’s no excuse, I know.” He stepped closer, sending Kristina’s heart into a sprint. “And I’m sorry for hurting your feelings, for not responding better to what you had to say.”

She frowned. For not responding better to what she had to say? Like what she’d said was just any old thing? Whatever.

“Okay, I accept your apology,” she managed.

Fighting wouldn’t serve any purpose, and the easier she made this for him the faster he would leave. At least, that’s what she told herself.

Relief filled his expression, smoothing out the furrowed wrinkles on his forehead. He came toward her, arms lifted like he was going to hug her.

Kristina stepped back and raised a hand. “Don’t. Please.” She couldn’t let him touch her because she didn’t think she’d be strong enough if he made it in to something more.

Noah dragged a hand through his hair. “Oh. Okay. Sure. Well, I brought your favorites.” He started for the kitchen. “I’ll grab some spoons and bowls.”

What? “Noah, stop.” She hugged herself. “What do you think is happening here right now?”

His brow furrowed again and he shrugged. “I, uh, thought we could hang out, eat ice cream, maybe grab dinner. You know, like old times.”

Those words broke her heart. They really freaking did. He didn’t get it, did he?

Kristina shook her head and nailed him with a stare. “No, we can’t. We can’t do any of that. Or, maybe I should say that I can’t. Did you not hear me last weekend? I’m in love with you, Noah. And unless anything’s changed, you made your position very clear.” She pressed a hand to her mouth and willed herself not to cry. “It…hurts to hang out with you knowing you don’t want me the way I want you. Just being in the same room with you right now, it hurts too much.”

His brow rose toward his hairline as Noah closed the distance between them. This time, Kristina held her ground. “Are you…are you seriously saying we can’t even be friends?”

Kristina shrugged, not out of a feeling of uncertainty, but because she felt so damn helpless. “It hurts, Noah.”

His jaw ticked and his gaze narrowed. “So, what? You’re giving me an ultimatum?”

Sadness had Kristina’s chest throbbing. “No. I know you can’t help how you feel. But I can’t help how I feel, either. I can’t be just friends with the man I love. Because I want to tell him that I love him and touch him and talk about the future with him. And if we’re just friends, we can’t do any of that. I can’t pretend to feel something I don’t any more than you can.”

Something that looked like panic slid over his expression, and he gently grasped her by the shoulders. “Please don’t do this.”

She twisted out of his hold. “I’m not trying to do anything,” she said, her voice sounding thick and strained to her own ears. “It just happened. It’s not either of our faults.”

“Kristina—”

“Go,” she said, pressing a hand to her mouth again. A single tear tracked hotly down the side of her face, and she dashed it away. “Please just go.”

Noah spun from her and paced into the living room, his hands scrubbing over his face. “Fuck. Fuck, Kristina, we’ve been friends for twenty goddamned years.” He whirled on her, his eyes blazing.

Kristina walked to the door and opened it, and then she stood there waiting. “I know. And I will always, always cherish that.” She dropped her gaze to an indistinct point between them.

His footsteps were heavy as they stalked toward her. For a long moment, he stood in front of her, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. And then he walked out the door. She quietly closed it behind him.

Then Kristina clapped her hands over her mouth, slid down against the inside of the door, and mourned those twenty years coming to an end. Her blurry gaze landed on his cooler full of ice cream, still sitting on the table.

And she’d thought she couldn’t feel any worse than she already had.

Saturday morning, Noah didn’t go to his art class. He didn’t see the point in it.

Actually, he didn’t see the point in much at all.

He’d sat on the couch all night, phone in his hand, wondering what the hell had happened to his life.

Because not only was he partially deaf and blind and no longer a Marine, but he’d lost Kristina. And the latter was his own damn fault.

Worse, overnight it had hit him—losing Kristina was far more catastrophic than losing the hearing and sight had ever been. Those he could compensate for, work around, figure out new ways to deal with.

But there was no way in hell to compensate for losing Kristina.

She was gone. That was it. And Noah was pretty sure he’d never before felt pain, because nothing had ever been this goddamned agonizing.

He looked down at his phone. He’d left Kristina about a million and a half voicemails and text messages over night. Apologizing. Begging her to reconsider. Asking to talk. She hadn’t answered. Apparently, Noah was a glutton for punishment, though, because he’d been holding out hope that she hadn’t answered because she’d been asleep. Once sunlight had slowly but surely poured between the slats of his blinds and filled his living room with its golden glow, he’d watched his phone non-stop, half holding his breath for the device to make a sound.

Now, the LED screen on his phone read 11:56.

No way was she still asleep. Which meant she was really done with him. For good.

Noah tossed the cell to the couch.

He must’ve nodded off at some point, because the next thing he knew his phone was ringing. Noah dove for it and pressed it to his ear. “Kristina?”

“Nope,” came a deep voice. “It’s Mo.”

Noah’s shoulders fell and he collapsed back against the couch. “Hey, Mo.”

“You okay?”

Foot bouncing, Noah regretted answering the phone. He had no interest in talking to anybody but Kristina right now. “Yeah, sure.”

“Well, huh. Why weren’t you in class then?”

“Something came up,” Noah said, rubbing his free hand hard against his thigh.

“Wanna know what I think? I’ll tell you, just in case you don’t ask,” Mo said. “I think that’s some bullshit. I can hear in your voice that something’s wrong. So, should we start this conversation over from the beginning?”

“Fuck,” Noah said, nearly groaning.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured. Tell me where you live, Noah. I fucking hate talking on the phone.”

“Mo—”

“I didn’t ask, son. Tell me where you live.”

“What are you, a drill sergeant?” Noah grumbled.

A quick, deep chuckle. “Nope. But I always thought I would’ve made a good one.” Noah liked Mo and didn’t have the energy to fight, so he gave him the address. “See you in fifteen.” They hung up, the clock on his cell reading 4:15. Apparently, his body had decided to check out whether his mind wanted to or not.

Noah had just enough time to take a shower and change clothes when a knock sounded against the door. Sure enough, it was Mo.

“I like how you’ve decorated the place,” Mo said, looking around at the completely blank walls. “Homey.”

Noah actually managed something close to a laugh. “I just fucking moved in.”

Mo chuckled as he took a seat on the couch. “Suuure you did.”

Shaking his head, Noah sat down, too. “Why are you here, Mo?”

“I had this friend in the Rangers. His name was Sebastian Kalinsky, and everyone called him Bash.” Mo leaned back, eased his legs up, and crossed them at the ankle, the heel of one mammoth boot resting on the coffee table. “Bash was a funny motherfucker. Always pulling pranks, had a nickname for everyone, just a super quick, dry wit. Bash was good at his job, too. If he had your six you always knew you were covered. Know what I mean?” Noah nodded. “Year before I got out of the Army, Bash stepped on a landmine. He lost most of his right leg, but he lived, and he was a lucky SOB to have survived, too. Everyone said so. When I got out, one of the first things I did was go visit Bash. He wasn’t doing great adjusting to the amputation and civilian life, but he said he was hanging in, and I believed him. Three months later, he stuck a Glock in his mouth and pulled the trigger.” Mo nailed Noah with a stare. “You remind me of Bash. A lot.”

The words hung there for a long time.

Noah heaved a deep breath. “I’m sorry about your friend.” He braced his elbows on his knees and scrubbed his hands over his face. For a long time, all Noah could do was look down at the floor. Finally, he said, “I don’t want to end up like him.”

Mo put his feet down one big boot at a time. “I know you don’t. But sometimes, you need help to make sure that doesn’t happen. Consider me your help.”

Unsure what to say, Noah managed a nod. Emotion clogged his throat anyway, so he wasn’t sure he could’ve talked if he wanted to.

“Now, you and me are gonna go grab some dinner, and then we’re gonna go to Full Contact.” Mo rose from the couch, then turned to Noah and raised an eyebrow.

Noah got up, threw some gym clothes in a bag, and followed Mo out the door.

Almost two hours later, they arrived at the gym, stuffed full of steak and eggs they’d gotten at Mo’s favorite diner. Mo’s company and no-nonsense directness had pulled Noah back from the edge of something almost too scary to contemplate.

Even though Noah had finally gotten some food in him, fight club turned out to be a disaster. His equilibrium was fucked all to hell, the vision in his good eye kept going wavy, and he was so exhausted that he actually asked Mack if he could sit out from sparring.

After class, Mack asked him to stay after again. Mo stayed, too.

“Talk to me, Noah,” Mack said. The three of them sat on the benches at the side of the gym. “I know we haven’t known each other long, but WFC is family. My family. And you’re part of that now.”

Problem was, Noah didn’t know what to say. He was just so…lost. “I don’t know what to do. I just know I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

“Sometimes you have to hit rock bottom before you can decide you want to get back up again. Are you there?” Mack asked.

“God, if this isn’t the bottom, I don’t want to know what is,” Noah said, looking from one man to the other.

“No, you don’t,” Mo said. “And I don’t want you to find out, either.”

“So what do I do?” Noah asked, genuinely wanting to know, entirely ready to do anything. “Because I’ve lost so much, and I don’t know how to get any of it back.”

“The first thing you do is choose to live, Noah. Embrace it. Fight for it. That’s what fight club is about. And that means you have to be more responsible for your own mental health, because you can’t fix anything else in your life until you fix yourself. It all starts with you. But you don’t have to do it alone. We’re your unit now, and we’re fully invested. We’ll fight with you every step of the way,” Mack said. “You hear me?”

Noah nodded, not even embarrassed about the tears rolling down is face. Because it was entirely possible that these two men had just saved his life.