“Okay, guys, we’re done for today. Off you go. Have a nice weekend. Mingle and practice English. See you here on Monday.”

Sky finished wiping the whiteboard while her students gathered their stuff and drifted out, chattering. She enjoyed all her classes, but the last one on Fridays, Advanced English, was her favorite. Their level allowed for more interaction, and she loved that. Teaching English had started as a means to an end, but surprisingly enough, she’d discovered she had a knack for it. She enjoyed preparing the classes and coming up with ways of making them interesting. Heck, she even enjoyed the tedious parts, like grading papers and reviewing pedagogy with her advisor. All things considered, that was a major victory.

“Ms. Gonzalez,” Elias said, with that beautiful Spanish accent she herself didn’t have.

“Sky,” she reminded him.

“Sky. Okay.”

“Anything I can help you with?” She doubted it. Elias was from the Dominican Republic, and though he needed the course to meet college requirements, his English was already very good. It came from listening to rap, he’d told her.

“I’m fine. I was wondering if you have plans for tonight. We’re playing at a club just outside Grand Rapids.”

“You play in a band?” She’d had no clue. It certainly fit the guy’s rogue image.

Elias nodded. “I’m the singer. Te apuntas? Seguro que vamos a pasarla bien.”

“I’ve told you before, Elias—I don’t understand you.”

He looked contrite. “That’s right. Sorry, I forgot. I look at you, those big black eyes, that face, and I totally forget you don’t speak Spanish. I said we would have a great time. Reggaeton music, great for perrear.”

“Perrear?”

“Perreo is like—” he struggled to find a fitting word “—twerking, but in couples.”

She laughed. “Ah, you mean booty dancing.”

“Perreo sounds better. Everything sounds better in Spanish.”

“Yes, it does,” she conceded.

“Ay mami, you really need to learn. A Latino beauty like you speaking English, unable to whisper naughty things in Spanish to her lover’s ear. Such a shame. I could teach you.”

“Thank you, but it’s no use. I didn’t learn from my grandma, so I doubt I’d learn now.”

Elias opened the classroom door for her. “You never know, mami. Come tonight. Some perreo, some mojitos, and you’ll catch on pretty fast. I’m a good teacher.”

“I’m sure you are,” she said, laughing. The guy had “Latin lover” written all over him. She’d grown up around his type. She could totally see the appeal. She also knew how to take his banter, but she had to warn him. “Say, have you ever heard about a tiny little thing called sexual harassment? You have to be careful what you say to women in America, or you’ll get yourself arrested and expelled.”

“Please, you Americans and your lawsuits. Calling a woman beautiful is not sexual harassment. It’s the obligation of every male. What do you say about coming tonight?” he insisted as they left the building. “Gringos don’t get good music. Or good dance. Our people do. And Grand Rapids is almost a big city. Lots to do.”

“Appearances are deceiving, I’m afraid. I’m as boring and gringa as they get.” Logan was coming to pick her up later in the evening, but even if he hadn’t been, she was exhausted. With every day that passed, it was more difficult for her to get out of bed, stick with her routine, and get on with her life.

His eyes roved over her from head to toe. “I doubted it very much, mami.”

She lifted her gaze and saw Logan with his arms crossed, waiting for her. Arnie was sitting by his side, growling. By the looks of it, Logan was growling too.

She gave him a big smile. “Hi. What are you doing here? I thought you were picking me up at my place.”

“Change of plans,” he grunted. Arnie too. He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and kissed her, short but hard. A very public statement that didn’t go unnoticed by Elias.

The student put up his hands and took a step backward. “Oh. Sorry, man. Didn’t know. Invitation still stands. You could both come.”

She turned to Logan. “What do you think? You feel like some mojitos and booty dancing tonight?”

“Your call, Butterfly. We’re set to go home, though,” Logan said.

“Sorry, Elias. We’re busy this weekend. It’s probably for the best. Booty dancing is not my thing.”

“No problem. Another time.” Slipping on a pair of aviator sunglasses, Elias walked away. The kid was going to kill it in the club. That Latino look, those tattoos, the swagger—it was all a huge turn-on for Nordic types.

The truck was parked right there, but Logan didn’t move. He stared at her, obviously waiting for her to explain herself.

“What?” she asked, playing dumb as she crouched to pet Arnie, who was actually looking disapprovingly at her too.

“Mami? Really?”

She rolled her eyes. Stood up. “Elias sings in a band. They’ve got a gig in Grand Rapids, in a club. Nice kid. He keeps forgetting I don’t speak Spanish. Even offered to teach me.”

His snort was dry. “Right, like Spanish is the only thing he wants to teach you. How old was Enrique Iglesias there?”

Sky laughed. Logan sounded jealous. “Elias? I don’t know. Early twenties, I’d say. Why?”

“He looks barely legal,” Logan said, directing her toward the truck with a hand on the small of her back. “He’d better have a fake ID handy or he isn’t getting into any club. Too fucking young to be hitting on you.”

Logan was jealous. “You don’t have to worry. You’re right; he’s too young for me. I hear at that age they can fuck for hours on end, but I prefer older men.”

He loomed over her. “Didn’t hear a single complaint last weekend.”

And he wouldn’t. Logan had great stamina and was a fantastic lover. It was fun to poke at him, though, so she carried on. “Older men are more sophisticated. They tend to have their own places, where two people can have sex in complete privacy. They don’t have to resort to a car, or a friend’s place, or, say, a storage bunker.”

He unlocked the truck. “I do have my own place where we can fuck in privacy.”

“That remains to be seen, Alchemist. In my experience, those two things don’t go together in the Grand Central Greenhouse,” she said, climbing into the vehicle. As Logan went to the driver’s side, she noticed her bags were in the backseat. “Hey, how did you get my things? Mrs. Rantala let you walk in and take all that?”

He shrugged. “Arnie not growling at me helped convince her. And you were packed already.”

So the males in her life were ganging up against her. Fantastic. And it wasn’t that she had been packed already, more like she hadn’t had the will to unpack from last weekend. Which reminded her. “You wouldn’t know anything about interns casually appearing at my place every day, offering to drive me to school? Then again at school to take me home?” She never knew who was coming, but there was always someone waiting for her.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” he responded, blankly.

Of course. “Well, tell them there’s no need.” She’d already tried, but they kept showing up. “Did you bring my computer?” She had some things to show Megan for the wedding. At Logan’s nod, she strapped herself in. “We’re set, then. Let’s go.”

He started the engine. “So you know, young guys can fuck for hours on end because they’re cooked up to their eyeballs with pills and meth. They wouldn’t know what to do with their dicks if they weren’t.”

Sky laughed. “Damn, you are so easy.”

She turned the radio on and surprised herself by relaxing and humming along. Just sitting there was the nicest she’d felt all week. It wouldn’t last, but she’d take any reprieve she could get.

“I would’ve said no anyway,” she said after they’d been driving a while.

“To what?”

“To Elias. Even if you hadn’t been there waiting, I would’ve turned him down.”

He covered her hand with his and intertwined their fingers. “Good to know.”

She smiled and looked away, trying very hard to distract herself from the fact that her stomach was doing triple somersaults. It took so little from Logan to get to her. A caress, a glance, a small gesture and she was putty in his hands—which was a dangerous place to be.

Steadying her voice, she went for playful. “So what’s the plan for tonight? Are we dining in the rain again?”

“I thought we’d stay in. Have a quiet night. I’ll cook for you.”

“I can help.”

He threw an amused look her way. “No, you can’t. You cook like shit, baby.”

“I don’t! And I’m not so sure how quiet a night it will be,” she said, glancing at the lights on in Carol’s house as they drove up the road.

“Trust me. It will be quiet.”

Logan carried her bags and opened the front door. Then he grabbed a piece of paper, scribbled something on it, got a hammer, and walked out.

“What are you doing?” she asked, following him.

“Nailing this note to the door.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit drastic?” Didn’t he have blue tack or tape?

“This sends the right message,” he said.

Do not disturb. Under any circumstances. Magnetic pulse, tsunami, zombie outbreak, we don’t give a shit. The apocalypse will have to wait. Ignore this warning at your own peril. Will respond with lethal force and a rabid dog. And I fucking mean it.

“Sure,” she laughed. “Because that note is so ambiguous and subtle that you need the hammer.”

“Just in case.”

* * *

Logan finished preparing dinner and walked into the living room to find Sky curled up on the sofa, sound asleep, Arnie’s muzzle on her feet. The glass of wine he’d poured her wasn’t even half empty. It looked like she’d zonked out right away.

It was no surprise. She’d seemed tired, so he’d told her to relax. Turned on the TV to one of those fashion shows she liked so much. She hadn’t put up too much of a fight, and now he knew why. He changed the channel until he found some soft music that wouldn’t disturb her slumber.

“Come on, Cerberus. Let’s go for a walk.”

Arnie didn’t move a muscle.

“She’s sleeping. It’s me or no one. Your choice.”

Grudgingly, the dog got up and followed Logan outside. They walked around, checking everything was in order.

It wasn’t much, his greenhouse, and it sure didn’t smell fantastic, but it was his. He wouldn’t change it for anything in the world—particularly not his old corner office, astronomical salary, stock options, and gazillion employees.

He locked the place up and whistled for Arnie to come back from wherever he was. There was no need; the dog was already waiting in front of the porch steps. Jesus Christ, that mutt was so damn attached to Sky, it was unbelievable.

“Five steps. Five tiny steps,” Logan grumbled as he lifted Arnie. “You should be ashamed of yourself, buddy.”

Arnie totally ignored him. Back on the floor, he went straight to Sky, nudging at her hand for her to wake up and pet him. Such an attention hog.

Her eyelids cracked open. “Hey, baby,” she said to Arnie. “You’re cold.”

“I took him out for a walk,” Logan answered.

She sat up. “Why didn’t you wake me? I would’ve taken care of that.”

He shrugged it off. “Let’s eat? Food is ready.”

“Sure,” she said, her smile not reaching her eyes.

“Not hungry, are you?”

“Not really, but I can work myself up to it. You made the effort to cook. I’ll eat it.”

She stood and moved toward the table. He stopped her. “Dance with me.”

“The food—”

“Forget the food,” he said, taking her into his arms and twirling her. “It will keep.”

A slow song was playing, and she melted into his embrace. Jeez, she smelled so sweet, felt so soft. He turned her around, pressing her back against his front. “So booty dancing ain’t your thang?”

Her laughter was throaty. “It mostly depends on who I’m booty dancing with.”

“What about with me?” he asked, nuzzling her neck.

She ground against him. “I might be able to pull some moves. Don’t expect too much, though. I’m out of practice.”

Thank fucking God she was out of practice, because she kept on rubbing against him and in no time had him sweating profusely, so fucking hard he couldn’t think.

“Touch me,” she whispered, taking his hands and putting them on her chest.

Fuck. Not touching her had been allowing him to stay in relative control. That went out the window the second he cupped her tits. She moaned, arching her back and gasping a strangled yes that shot straight to his cock.

He kissed her throat. “Baby, you’re killing me. I know you’re tired.”

“Not that tired anymore,” she said, her sweet ass moving up and down along his throbbing hard-on. “Kind of restless at the moment. Antsy.”

He smiled against her soft skin. Antsy. “Anything I can help you with?” he asked, sliding a hand to her mound while he continued rolling and pinching her stiff nipples with the other.

Her voice quivered with desire. “I don’t know. Maybe. What do you have in mind?”

He unbuttoned her blouse and let it slide to the floor. “I want you. Right here.”

She lifted her skirt and shimmied out of her undies, almost giving him a heart attack in the process. Then she took a step away from him and, placing her hands on the table, bent over and wiggled her ass. “Come and get it.”

He drew in a calming breath. No way. He turned her around and lifted her onto the table. Bracketing her with his arms, he leaned closer. “Not from behind. I want you bareback and face-to-face.” Her eyes opened wide. He knew his tone was too harsh and he was probably scaring her, but damn if he could do shit about it. “You offered me that before, at the compound, remember?”

“I remember,” she answered softly, “but back then, going without condoms didn’t mean anything. Now it does.”

She was absolutely right.

“I want to feel all of you. No barriers. And I want to come inside you.” He didn’t want to say it, but he had to. “You’re on the pill, and I’m clean. I’ll understand if you don’t—”

She placed her hand on his lips, silencing him. After pulling his shirt over his shoulders, she unzipped him.

He closed his eyes. Opened them again. “Baby,” he warned her as she grabbed his cock and stroked him. “If we need condoms, I have to go get them now.” Before he completely lost his grip and fucked her on the spot.

She brought the crown of his cock to her opening, nesting it between her inner pussy lips. “We don’t need condoms. I want you to come inside me too.”

Fuck. That did it.

Eyes fixed on her, he surged inside, going out of his mind right away. So fucking hot, and so fucking tight. He clutched her waist and stilled her. Being bathed in her heat, without any barrier, had him in total sensory overload. “Give me a second, Butterfly. You feel too good.” He had to cool it down, or he wasn’t going to last worth a damn.

Sky had other plans. She kissed him deeply, squeezing her muscles around him, pushing at his ass with her heels. Urging him. No way to stop now. Or show any restraint for that matter.

He increased the tempo of his thrusts, his orgasm already glowing at the base of his spine, tightening his balls.

He stared into her gorgeous eyes, her pussy sucking him in. “Sorry, babe… can’t hold out… going to come.” He tugged her close and plunged in with bruising force, as deep as he could go, giving himself to her while she breathed raggedly against his mouth and orgasmed, her core contracting around him, sending him even higher and sucking the last drop of cum from him.

It took a fucking eternity to come down from that high. When he did, he moved them to the sofa, his cock still deep inside her.

“We’ll mess up the fabric,” she whispered.

He shrugged. “Don’t particularly care.” He knew the gentlemanly thing to do was to fetch a warm towel and clean her up, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not yet. “Besides, I have contacts. Thanks to the family, I know some very professional crime-scene cleaners.”

“What?” she asked, looking horrified.

He kissed her. “Nothing. I love the thought of my cum filling you up, baby.” And he was going to love seeing it dripping out of her. What had gotten into him to take her bareback, he didn’t know, but he didn’t regret it.

“If we’re going to make a habit of this, we should set some ground rules,” she said. “I mean…”

“Exclusivity,” he finished.

“Yes. I hear STD treatments are hell on the skin, and I’d rather avoid them.”

He pinned her down with a hard stare. “I’m not fucking anyone else. Nor do I want to.” He hadn’t had sex since he’d split with Vivienne, much less considered foregoing protection.

“Okay.”

“Okay? That’s all? I’m going to need some reassurance myself, lady. If STD treatment is hell on the skin, imagine the nightmare of watching your rotting cock fall off in pieces.”

She laughed. “I won’t be fucking anyone else without condoms, just you.”

Somehow, that didn’t sound reassuring. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What do you mean?”

She was playing dumb. Again. Having fun at his expense. Making him sweat it. He tipped her face up with a finger on her chin. “I don’t want you fucking anyone else, with or without condoms.”

“Is this because of that kid Elias?” she asked, encircling his neck with her arms.

“This is because I’m an egotistical motherfucker and want you all to myself.”

“That kind of exclusivity will require more than regular visits. It will require commitment.”

“I know,” he said, kissing her. “I have no issues with that. You?”

It was probably only a couple of seconds, but it felt like for-fucking-ever before she finally shook her head. “No issues.”

The breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding came out in a whoosh. “That Enrique Iglesias wannabe is not teaching you Spanish. Or anything else for that matter.” Booty dancing she had down pat already. Any new moves, she would be practicing with him.

A cheeky smile broke over her face. “Ay papi, don’t get mad.”

He cringed. “Jeez, he’s been teaching you already?”

“Of course not,” she said, swatting his chest. “I don’t fraternize with students. I’ll wait until he graduates. Kidding, kidding! ‘Papi’ is what my sis calls all her boyfriends.”

“I’d rather you call me Logan, thank you very much. Unabomber or Alchemist, I’ll tolerate.”

She burrowed into him. “Duly noted.”

He stroked her back, loving the feel of her in his arms. “We broke the spell,” he murmured after a long pause.

“What spell?”

“We had sex in my house. Uninterrupted sex. We’re even managing to have pillow talk afterward.”

“So the romancing is off? Such a pity,” she said, sounding mournful. “I was secretly rooting for another cabin or a fancy hotel.”

“You prefer a hotel?”

She looked up. Pondered for a moment. “Actually, no.”

“Well, that is a pity. You see, the award dinner invitation comes with plane tickets and a night in a hotel. I thought you might like to go with me.”

“You want me to go with you?”

“My options are very limited. It’s you or some tinfoil prepper woman.” She punched him. He grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Of course I want you to come with me.”

“Sure. I’ll go.”

“Good, because it’s in New York.”

He could have pinpointed the instant her mind processed those words, because her eyes almost popped out of their sockets. “You kidding me?”

“No. A weekend in New York. You in?”

She nodded, hugging him tight, her face hidden in the crook of his neck.

“You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?”

She laughed, shaking her head.

Good. He gripped her ass and stood up. “Let’s get to bed and test our luck. What do you think our chances are for a successful second round?”

She kissed him and squeezed that sweet pussy of hers around his cock. “I’d say very high.”

* * *

“Hi, sweetie,” Shayna greeted Sky when she entered the Hacker Shack the next day. “I heard you were back with us for the weekend.”

“How did you know?” She and Logan had gone straight home last night, and they hadn’t resurfaced until now.

“Nothing travels faster than news in this place. You guys are big news. Besides, Carol read the note on Logan’s door.”

“Oh, God.” Sky flinched, sitting down in an empty spot and putting her computer bag on the table.

“They had some sort of exercise planned, to introduce you to the world of virus ass-kicking, but they decided to postpone it,” Shayna explained. “They like you, and they want you to stay. It’s their view that cockblocking you won’t help.”

“Did Carol say that?” Because for the life of her, Sky couldn’t picture it.

“Not in so many words, no. I don’t think she knows the term. But that was the idea.”

“Hi, girls. What’s up?” Megan said, coming up to the table.

“My reputation, for one.” Talk about public humiliation.

Frowning, Megan looked to Shayna, who said, “The note.”

“Ah, that.”

Megan knew too? “Is the whole town aware Logan and I are knocking boots?”

“That ship sailed long ago. Forgetting the cuffs in the bunker didn’t help. They do a regular inventory. And depleting the condom stash didn’t go unnoticed either.”

“Fantastic. So we’re not only knocking boots, but we’re known perverts.”

Shayna and Megan shrugged.

“Pretty much. But pervert is a relative term,” Shayna said. “What can I get you? A Patient Zero?”

“Still on the list?”

“Yep. Rather popular.”

“Refresh my memory: does that have alcohol?” Sky asked, opening her computer bag.

“No, but I can spike it.”

Alcohol would make her more tired. But what the heck. “Spike away.”

“And you?” Shayna asked Megan.

“Another for me.”

“Right. Two… Anesthetized Patient Zeros on the way.”

“She’s good with names,” Megan said as Shayna left. “You okay? You look a bit off your game.”

Such a nice, polite way of saying she looked like shit. Skipping most of her makeup and her usual sharp clothes clearly wasn’t helping. “Tired, that’s all.” It had taken everything she had to get out of bed that morning.

“Is my brother keeping you up late?”

“It’s not his fault.” She’d been the one who started the whole thing. Not that she regretted it.

“You like my brother,” Megan stated softly.

Sky was going to answer that she did, but Megan wasn’t waiting for confirmation. “You must like him. A lot. No one stays in this town and puts up with the local wackos unless there’s a good reason. A very irrational good reason. Like love.”

Sky gulped. She wasn’t touching that one. She still hadn’t assimilated how ready she’d been to have sex with him without protection. No warning and no hesitation, when in her previous relationships she’d agonized over the decision for weeks. But love was a strong word. At this moment, with spring kicking her ass, she was feeling all sorts of things, not all of them clear to her. “Why did you stay?” she asked, trying to divert Megan’s attention.

Megan smiled. “Alec wouldn’t let me go. I came for a star shower, and without realizing it, I got hit by a meteorite that rocked my world.”

“That’s why you’re marrying him during a star shower?”

“Yes. Star showers are very important to Alec and me.”

There was a story behind that, Sky could tell, but she wasn’t getting into it.

“What’s your excuse?” Sky asked Shayna as she brought their teas. “For staying in this town, I mean. Did you fall madly in love too?”

“Ha! As if. I was born here. I was sentenced from day one. Imagine being a teenager and sneaking around in a place where almost every lawn is booby-trapped. Set foot in the wrong spot and suddenly you’ve got floodlights pointing at your face and sirens blaring. And I had Bob giving me away.”

“That’s how you learned all your ninja skills?” Megan asked. “By deactivating booby-traps?”

“You tell me. Wait,” Shayna said, addressing Sky. “What did you mean, did I fell madly in love too? Is that what’s happened to you? You’ve fallen in love?”

“I was talking about Megan,” Sky hurried to explain, opening her computer and powering it up. “Which is why I brought this. I have the video of Bridal Fashion Week last October.”

Megan and Shayna looked at each other and said nothing. Sky had the nagging feeling they were humoring her, but whatever.

“Those are designer dresses,” Megan said. “They cost a fortune. And they’re nowhere to be found around here anyway.”

“We can get ideas and customize an off-the-rack dress. This year, feathers are in fashion.”

Megan’s cringe spoke volumes. “I don’t want anything girly. I’d rather get married in my boots.”

“I know.” Sky moved the video forward. “Here’s a new designer whose gown is sexy and feminine and kickass all at once. Not traditional in the least. What do you think?”

Megan’s face lit with awe when she saw the tunica-and-shorts combination.

“The shoulders are bare, so your tattoo would peek out. Your pixie hair would look fantastic with that style. I know it’s a bit unconventional, but you guys are nothing if not unconventional.”

They perused dresses until Logan came to pick Sky up.

“You feel like going out with us tonight?” Megan asked. “Girls’ night out. A couple rounds of drinks and a couple rounds on the mechanical bull.”

“No, thanks. I’d rather have a quiet evening in.”

Megan gave her a smirk and a thumbs-up. “Okie-dokie. I’ll spread the word: your place is off limits. The note is still binding.”

* * *

Logan watched Sky sleep. It was Sunday. It looked like they would make it through the weekend without being disturbed. Although the way she was sleeping, not even the evacuation alarm would rouse her.

Aside from meeting with Megan and Shayna, Sky had been very low on energy. She’d spent almost all weekend dozing on the sofa, no makeup on, wearing sweatpants. Prada sweatpants, true, but sweatpants nevertheless.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” he whispered against her lips.

She didn’t even stir.

He tightened his embrace. “Time to get up.”

She mumbled something, burrowing into him. Logan glanced at the bedside clock. She’d been out for almost twelve hours. They’d spent the whole evening on the sofa, watching the finale of some fashion show she’d been wanting to see, but she’d zonked out before it ended. Arnie was behaving strangely too. He seemed more reluctant than before to leave Sky’s side, poking at her and barking to get her attention.

“Come on, baby. The sun is already high in the sky.”

“Don’t care,” she muttered against his chest. “Just five more minutes.”

Five minutes became ten and fifteen.

“What’s wrong?” he asked when he finally got her back to the land of the living.

“Nothing,” she said, rubbing her eyes and attempting a smile that pissed him off.

“What is it? Is it me? This town? You bored into a coma?”

“It’s not you. It’s me.”

“Oh.” He’d heard that shit before. “The novelty wore off.”

He tried to stand but she stopped him. “Of course not, you idiot. I didn’t have to come here if I didn’t want to. I had other options, didn’t I?”

A hint of her usual fire was back in her tone. Thank God. “So what’s the problem? You’re down. You’re sleeping all the time. Talk to me.”

She took a long, deep breath and propped herself against the headboard. “I’m chronically depressed.”

“You’re what?” Sky was always joking and coming up with sharp remarks. Dressed to kill in every situation. Hair done. Perfect makeup. On the go right away in the morning. Never an idle second. If there ever was someone who was the opposite of depressed, it was Sky.

“Chronically depressed,” she repeated, fidgeting with the sheet. “Dysthymia is the clinical term. Remember what I told you about my mom? There’s a genetic predisposition to depression, and I’m afraid I inherited all the genes. My surroundings while I was growing up didn’t help either; dealing with a constantly ill family member was hard. Anxiety and fear were constant. Apparently chronic stress is another strong predisposing factor for depression. I’m two for two, doomed from the start.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Did you get treatment?” She was too young to have a chronic illness.

She shook her head. “Not for many years. I lived like that for so long, struggling from day to day, I somehow accepted the fog of depression as my normal functioning. I thought the sense of emptiness and despair was just the way things were supposed to be. I assumed it was part of my personality, that I was moody. Dysthymia can be mild from day to day. It’s the long term that’s brutal. The symptoms can go away for long periods, months even, but they always come back.” She looked up at him, offered another half-assed smile. “It really sounds worse than it is. I work hard at it, and I have it under control most of the time, but spring always knocks me for a loop. Go figure. The whole world is coming alive, and I can barely keep my head out of the oven.” God only knew what kind of shocked expression he had, because she hurried to add, “Kidding, kidding. I’m more the passive type. Sleep my life away and that sort of thing. That said, and even though people associate depression with winter, suicide rates do peak in the spring.”

That was true. He remembered it from his days in the pharmaceutical trade. Antidepressant sales doubled in April. “Are you on any medication?”

“I was for several years. When I got better, I tapered off gradually. I go back to them only when I’m having a particularly bad spell. I keep my head above water by sticking to my routine. I drag myself out of bed and force myself to ignore the way I feel and get on with my day. The alternative is too horrifying to even consider. I know where that road leads, and no way am I ending up in that hole. Still, some days are so hard. Like I weigh a ton. Getting out of bed is almost impossible. Arnie does a good job of bugging me until I do. I’m really sorry I was such a downer this weekend,” she said, looking uneasy.

“You don’t need to apologize. I do. I’ve been an ass. I’m sorry. I didn’t know—”

“Of course you didn’t. I don’t like talking about it. Most people don’t understand depression. Either they think you’re making shit up, or that you get off on stuffing yourself with pills. I’ve learned to ignore the sadness and irritability. I tell myself it’s my brain playing tricks on me, that I’m just being moody and overly self-conscious. It works—except in spring, when it really becomes overpowering, especially the plummeting energy. Some people suffer from insomnia. I don’t. I could sleep all through March and April. But I’ve seen what happens when someone gives in to depression. They get lost in it. It swallows them.”

“Your mother,” he said quietly.

She nodded. “It grabbed hold of her and wouldn’t let go. She died in pajamas she never took off, her teeth rotted out of her head, wearing diapers. She’d barely turned sixty. I know every spring that the blues are coming, yet it always hits me like a brick wall. As if I’d forgotten how bad it can be.” She lowered her gaze. “I shouldn’t have come. I was going to cancel on our weekend, but you beat me to it by picking me up. I didn’t want you thinking I was blowing you off to go to Grand Rapids with Elias. The truth is, I’m not great company in this condition.”

He tipped her face up. “Don’t be stupid. You’re great company.”

“This is the sleepy phase. Next, I get snappy and moody. I’ll be fine. I just need to get my endorphin level up and hold on for a month or so. Over the years, I’ve tried all sort of things to weather the storm. Yoga doesn’t work. Neither do meditation or Pilates. Meditation put me to sleep in a second, and in Pilates they kept telling me to move muscles I didn’t have. Or if I had them, I had no clue how to find them. It irritated the living crap out of me. I tried spinning once, but my legs trembled so frigging badly after it, I couldn’t climb the stairs. Neither Arnie nor I could afford that. Zumba helped. When I could drag myself out of bed, that is.”

“No Zumba classes in NoName, but I might know a way to get your endorphins running,” he suggested, tracing the valley between her breasts.

“I’m not up for sex. I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression on Friday. I’m too tired, and I need to gather enough energy to go to work tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to be up for anything. You only have to relax and enjoy.”

“You going to treat my spring blues with orgasms?”

“Why not? Have you tried that method?”

“Not for long enough to be certain of its effectiveness. You’re not so young anymore, though. I don’t think you—”

He pulled at her ankles until she was no longer propped on the headboard but sprawled on the mattress. Then he rolled over her. “So there’s the snappiness you were talking about.”

This time her smile was genuine. He felt ten feet tall. “Just saying that keeping me high on sex might be too big a job for an old man.”

“Shut up and open your legs.”