Beth followed Courtney into the break room, her steps quiet. She could have stomped into the room and Courtney probably wouldn't have heard. She was too preoccupied, lost deep in her own thoughts. Beth knew the feeling—she'd been the same way, ever since last week.

Ever since that last night with Adam.

She just hoped she was hiding it better than Courtney.

Her friend reached into a locker, dug through her purse and pulled out a bottle of aspirin, uncapping it with a shaking hand.

"You're going to give yourself an ulcer if you keep taking those. They're not good for your stomach, you know that."

She looked over her shoulder and gave Beth a small smile, then shook out three of the plain white pills. "What makes you think I don't already have an ulcer?"

"It wouldn't surprise me, as tense and jumpy as you've been. Are you ever going to tell me what's going on?"

"Nothing's going on."

Beth snorted, the sound entirely too delicate to carry as much sarcasm as it did. She pushed away from the doorframe and stepped behind Courtney, placing her hands on her shoulders, digging her fingers into the knotted muscles. "Damn, girl. You're tighter than my last boyfriend's ass."

Courtney's eyes drifted closed and her head dropped forward. "Which boyfriend was that?"

"The firefighter." Had any of the sadness crept into her voice? She hoped not. If Courtney picked up on it, she'd asked questions—questions Beth didn't want to answer. Couldn't answer. Better to pretend it meant nothing.

Which was the truth.

"Adam?" Courtney raised her head, only to have Beth push it back down. "I thought you liked him."

Liked him? Beth did. Too much. That was the problem.

"I did. But he lives too far away. That, and he started looking for more than a booty call. I wasn't interested." She should be struck down by lightning for telling that lie. It so wasn't true. Not for Adam, anyway. It was what she had started looking for—hoping for—that scared her. But she couldn't let Courtney know that. She heaved a dramatic sigh. "But damn, I will miss that ass. And everything else he had to offer."

Courtney laughed, the sound surprised, a little foreign. Good. Courtney deserved to laugh. She'd been so quiet and withdrawn lately, so worried about…something. Beth yanked the ends of her hair and tugged her over to the small table. "Sit down if you want me to keep rubbing. You're too tall for me to do this with you standing up."

"I am not tall."

"Okay, I'm short. I said it. Are you happy?"

Courtney laughed again and settled into the hard chair, leaning forward so Beth could continue working the knots from her back. "I really thought you and Adam were going to be a thing. Don't you ever want to settle down?"

"Who, me? Nah. I'm allergic to commitment, you know that." Only because she could never find the right guy. Beth pushed against one stubborn knot, causing Courtney to hiss and hunch her shoulders. "Sorry. What about you? Don't you ever want to take a break from your self-imposed celibacy?"

"Beth! You did not just say that!"

"Sure I did. I mean, seriously. When's the last time you went out on a date?"

"I'm a single mom, it's not that easy."

"Sure it is. A guy asks you out, you say yes. Simple as that."

"No, I can't. I have Noah. You know that. And you also know that no guy would be interested in seeing a twenty-one-year-old single mother of a child with Noah's issues."

"I think you just use that as an excuse because you don't want to go out."

Courtney ignored the comment, just like Beth knew she would. They'd had this conversation before—too many times. Beth would try to fix her up with someone, try to talk her into going out. Courtney always said no. That wasn't her life right now. It had never been her life.

"So you never did tell me how you and the hot firefighter met."

"Trying to change the subject, hm? Fine, I won't bring up your serious lack of a social life again. For now. And I'm seriously not telling you how we met."

"Why not?"

"Because it might offend your virginal sensibilities, that's why." Offend? Courtney would have a heart attack. Literally. Then she'd lecture Beth on the dangers of meeting strangers, especially for the sake of having sex.

And she'd be right. Even Adam had warned her, telling her it was dangerous. That's why she hadn't gone back to the chatroom, not once.

At least, that's what she told herself. She wasn't ready to admit that she didn't want to go back. She wasn't interested in meeting anyone else. Wasn't interested in hooking up with anyone else.

And she didn't want to risk seeing Adam in there. She wasn't ready for that, wasn't ready to admit that seeing him there, knowing he was hooking up with someone else, would hurt.

Stupid. So stupid. They didn't have a relationship—they never did, no matter what Beth may have told Courtney. She was never going to see Adam again. She couldn't, it was a risk she couldn't afford to take, not when she realized it was starting to be about more than sex.

For her, at least.

Courtney hunched her shoulders together and glanced back at Beth. "I am hardly virginal. I have a kid, remember?"

Beth laughed, the short sound holding a world of sarcasm and disbelief. "Okay. So you had sex. Once. Over three years ago. I'm so impressed."

Courtney opened her mouth, no doubt to disagree, then snapped her mouth closed again. Beth almost felt sorry for her. She knew Noah was Courtney's whole life. Knew that being a single mother wasn't easy, that Courtney struggled to find what she thought was the right balance. But her friend deserved happiness, deserved to find that someone special.

One of them had to. It should be Courtney. She deserved it. She deserved so much more. But Beth could sense her discomfort, knew she wasn't ready. Maybe she never would be. And Courtney would never admit it, but Beth was certain it had something to do with Noah's father—whoever he was. Beth knew better than to ask about him again so she forced a laugh, decided that Courtney needed a little teasing.

"No come back, hm?"

"I know better."

Beth made a little humming noise under her breath and kept working on the tense muscles under her hand. Courtney leaned forward even more, releasing her breath and letting herself relax. The music piped into the salon's speakers was muted back here, nothing more than a backdrop for the other sounds surrounding them. The chatter of conversation between stylist and client was nothing more than a relaxing buzz, lulling her deeper into a foggy gray world. The phone rang from somewhere out on the floor; the bell signaling the arrival or departure of another client was nothing more than a barely-heard tinkle.

In a few minutes, she'd have to get back up. Go to work with her next client, shampooing and cutting. But for now, for these few precious minutes, she could help her friend relax and do her best to put Adam from her mind. It was easier, at least a little bit, to focus on helping Courtney deal with her problems.

Whatever they were.

"Your purple is fading."

"Hm?"

"I said your purple is fading." Beth reached up and grabbed the ends of Courtney's hair, separated out a thick strand. "You should change it."

Courtney sighed and straightened, reaching back to pull her hair from Beth's hand. "I happen to like the purple."

"I know you do. But Fall's here. New season, new color. I'm thinking you'd look really good with some red."

"Red? I don't think so—"

"Not red red. More like an auburn cinnamon. With highlights. That would really make your color pop."

"What's wrong with my color?"

"Nothing. Except you've been so stressed lately that you're super pale. The blonde only makes you look more washed out."

"Oh, and going red would be any better?"

"Sure. A nice warm color, nothing too drastic." Beth started running her fingers through her hair, pulling strands in different directions. "We've never done a red on you before. I think it'll look good."

"I don't know. Maybe."

"No maybes about it. I already know what I'm going to do. Can you stay late tonight? I'll do it then—"

"Hey Courtney, someone's here to see you."

They both turned toward Shelly, another stylist. There was something about the other woman's expression that made Courtney tense, made her hands curl into fists. This wasn't about a client, Beth knew that as surely as Courtney did.

A man stood behind Shelly, middle-aged in a dark, nondescript suit. Everything about him was nondescript. Average, unassuming. Someone you'd pass on the street and not even notice.

So why did he fill Courtney with so much obvious fear and dread? And why did Beth suddenly place a hand on her shoulder, offering her friend support?

"Miss Williams?"

"Y-yes?"

The man pushed past Shelly, a white envelope held in his hand. He stopped in front of Courtney, his face blank of all expression, and held the envelope out to her. "This is a request for a paternity test on one Noah Robert Williams. The information on where to have the test taken is inside. I would suggest you not ignore it."

"What?" The word fell from Courtney's mouth in a strangled whisper. It didn't matter, the man was already walking out. Beth's hand tightened on her shoulder and she leaned closer, peering at the envelope in Courtney's shaking hand.

Courtney looked down at it, her eyes dazed, almost as if she didn't see it. She squeezed her eyes closed, opened them, blinked a few times. Beth looked over her shoulder, her gaze falling on the return address so crisply printed in the corner. It was from a law firm.

"Courtney! Oh my God. What is it? Open it! What did he mean? Paternity? For Noah? Why? For what?" Beth's questions came one after the other, the words nothing more than senseless sound. Courtney probably didn't even hear them. She looked lost, frightened.

Scared to death.

She dropped the envelope onto the table and pushed her chair back, nearly knocking Beth over. "Throw it in the trash. I don't want it."

"Shelly, grab me a bottle of water." Beth bent down next to her and placed a comforting hand on her leg. Her other hand snagged the envelope from the table and held it between them. "Courtney, I don't think you can ignore this. You heard him. You need to open it."

"No. No, I don't."

"Courtney, he sounded serious. You need to open it."

"I can't."

"You have to. But I don't understand, why would anyone want a paternity test on Noah? I thought you said you knew who his father was."

"I did. I do." She closed her eyes, bit down on her trembling lower lip. All the color drained from her face, leaving her pale. Her hands started shaking. Her whole body was shaking, her chest rising and falling with each short gasp. Beth worried that she might actually pass out. She'd never seen Courtney look like this, so…terrified.

She shifted in the chair, finally opened her eyes and rested her frantic gaze on Beth. "Open it for me. I can't. I don't want—you have to open it."

Beth watched her for a long minute, a hundred different unasked questions flashing through her mind. Then she nodded and slowly opened the envelope, surprised to see her own fingers shaking. She pulled out a single sheet of paper, the letterhead matching the name of the law firm on the envelope.

Beth looked at Courtney once more, silently asking permission to read it. Courtney nodded, her eyes fixed on Beth as she skimmed the several short paragraphs.

"What does it say?"

"It's a bunch of legal jargon." Beth frowned, her eyes skimming the page once more. "Something about something called an Acknowledgement of Paternity to establish—ohmygod. I know this name. Holy shit. Oh. My. God. Courtney! Seriously? He's Noah's father? Holy shit, I don't believe it."

Courtney snatched the paper from Beth's shaking hand and read it for herself.

Had Beth read the name correctly? She had. But she still couldn't believe it. No wonder Courtney never talked about Noah's father. Harland Day had been a hockey player, a local boy made good who made it to the professionals. He'd played for the Baltimore Banners up until last season, when he was sent back here to their minor affiliate in York.

There had been rumors and stories floating around about him. About his partying. About his escapades with different women. God, no wonder Courtney looked so scared. No wonder she didn't want him in Noah's life. Beth couldn't blame her.

Unless—maybe he wanted to be in Noah's life. Maybe the stories had been just that: stories.

And maybe Beth needed to stop dreaming. Needed to learn how to be more realistic, like Courtney.

"Is he really Noah's father?"

Courtney folded the letter and carefully tucked it back into the envelope, refusing to look at Beth. "Yes."

"You? And Harland Day? But—"

"It was a long time ago, okay? I don't like thinking about it."

"How can you not think about it? He's Noah's father!"

"And he didn't even know about Noah until a few weeks ago! I don't know why he's doing this. It makes no sense—"

"But isn't this a good thing? I mean, it looks like he wants to be named as Noah's father. That means you can get him to pay child support and help—"

"No!" Courtney jumped from the chair and started pacing around the small room, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. They had an audience now: Shelly and Diane and Jackie crowded together in the doorway, their expressions ranging from concern to blatant curiosity.

Courtney paused her frantic pacing, glanced at the women huddled in the doorway, then turned back to Beth. "I don't want his money. I don't want his help. I don't want anything to do with him and I don't want him in our lives."

"But why? Wouldn't this help—"

"Because he accused me of sleeping with someone else when I first told him I was pregnant. He kept insisting, over and over and over, that the baby wasn't his. That it couldn't be his." Courtney made an angry swipe at the tears running down her face. "So I told him it wasn't. I told him I wouldn't have it and that was it. I never saw him again."

"Oh, Courtney." Beth hurried over to her and pulled her into a comforting hug. Several more pairs of arms joined them, offering words of comfort and consolation and support. Beth didn't know how long they stood there, huddled together. She pulled away, wiped her own face, her mouth trembling with a watery smile.

"Okay, no more of this. Shelly, you and the others get back out there. Diane, can you take Courtney's next appointment?"

"Sure, no problem."

"I can take my own appointment." Courtney tried to object but Beth waved her off before shooing everyone out of the room. "Beth, I can take—"

"No, you can't." She grabbed the envelope from the table and held it out. "You need to get this taken care of first."

Courtney stepped back and shook her head. "No. I want nothing to do with that."

"Courtney, you can't ignore it."

"I'm not letting them put more needles in Noah. I'm not. Not for this. I don't care what they say."

"Then go talk to his father."

"Beth, I told you, I don't want—"

"This isn't going to go away, no matter how much you want it to. You should at least go talk to him. Maybe there's another way. Maybe there's some way to work this out so you're both happy."

Happy? Did Beth really believe this would end happily? She had to, one way or another. Courtney deserved it. Out of everyone here, Courtney deserved it the most.

She stared down at the envelope in Beth's outstretched hand, eyeing it with distaste and fear. Then she reluctantly took it, a look of stunned surprise crossing her face. Her hand tightened around the letter, partially crumpling it. Then she raised her head and looked at Beth, fear clear in her eyes. "I don't know what to do."

"Go talk to him. It's the only thing you can do for now."

She hoped Beth would take the advice, hoped it would work out better for her friend than it had for her.

Not that talking to Adam would help in her situation. How could it? There was nothing to talk about.