The words blurred on the page and Evan set the textbook aside. He’d conquered deployments—he could conquer economics. When he’d decided to take classes at the community college for culinary arts, he hadn’t realized he also had to take electives that, to his thinking, had little to do with his career goals.

None of his classes this semester related to culinary arts, but he’d knock out those pesky electives. He’d been fortunate to be admitted on such short notice, so he accepted the inconveniences with his mind focused on the end result.

He rubbed his eyes and picked up the dreaded book again. If he didn’t knock out his understanding of the material, he’d fail his first exam. Supply and demand made sense, and so did utility, but he struggled with elasticity. He filled out practice charts, but confused elastic supply with inelastic supply, then inelastic demand with elastic demand. The lines ran together, and his frustration soared. Why couldn’t he remember what seemed like a simple concept?

He needed a break. For the last six weeks, he’d thrown himself into his classes, barely seeing the outside world. Most of it came naturally to him—economics is the only one that caused extra work—and the distraction kept his mind off Janie.

Or at least that’s what he told himself. The truth was, she rarely strayed far from his thoughts.

In the two months since the trip home for Christmas, they had strategically avoided being alone and had only seen each other in group settings. The only exception had been when he’d given her car a jump start.

He missed her. Would it be so bad to invite her out to eat? He would call one of the guys, but they’d left Monday for training in Yuma until mid-April. With Jared gone, the probability Janie would need him increased.

Maybe not. She was finding her independence, which made him proud, but he missed being needed. He enjoyed helping her, being her shoulder to cry on, the man she could count on.

Why had he gone and kissed her? Not once, but twice.

Everything had changed since then. They’d come back to North Carolina without ever talking about it. There seemed to be a mutual agreement to pretend it had never happened—except it had, and had changed their relationship.

Gone were the days of ease and comfort between them. Their conversation on the plane ride home could have defined stilted in the dictionary. He wanted the old them back, and they couldn’t reach that unless they found a way to move past the kisses.

He reached for his phone with the intent to call her. It wasn’t wise. He knew distance presented the best option for protection of his heart, but he was lonely. One little dinner wouldn’t hurt …

Why did she have to be his best friend’s widow? Why did he have injuries that prevented him from offering her the life she wanted? Why, why, why.

He threw the phone on the coffee table and ran his hands through his hair.

This was stupid. He’d spent years learning the art of self-discipline and courage, but he was going to let a little crush on Janie stand in the way of their friendship?

Grabbing his phone for the second time, he decided to put aside his feelings at all costs in order to repair what had been broken. If he took the first step, maybe she’d follow, and they could be friends again without letting a little misplaced passion hang between them.

Her phone rang. And rang. Finally went to her voicemail. Go figure.

“Hey, it’s Evan. Just calling to see if you’re free to grab dinner tonight. If you get this in the next hour or so and want to, give me a call.”

He disconnected and laid the phone on the microfiber sofa’s armrest. Reluctantly, he stared at the textbook pages again, trying to make sense of the material. Twenty minutes later, he tapped his phone for any sign of a response from Janie. Nothing. He checked the volume to make sure it hadn’t been switched to silent. It was on medium.

Low growls rumbled from his stomach after an hour. Still no word from Janie. He wished he knew if she’d gotten the message or not. Was the lack of response a passive no or not knowing of the invitation yet. If she didn’t want to go, he could handle a negative answer. He was a big boy.

A few more minutes. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a banana to snack on while he waited. Took a shower on the off chance she would call even though it had been more than an hour.

After two hours, he started to worry. It wasn’t like Janie to not have her phone nearby. Did he call again? Stop by her house? He didn’t want to be pushy or overbearing, but if something were wrong, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he didn’t check on her.

He settled on sending her a text. Lord, please let Janie be fine.

His phone still rested in his hands, his eyes staring, waiting, when the screen lit with an incoming call.

“Hi.” He cut himself off from rushing to ask if she was okay.

“Hi.” She sounded chipper, not distressed or upset with him for any reason. “Sorry I missed your call earlier. I decided to paint the guest room and left my phone in the kitchen. I didn’t realize how late it was until I saw the sun setting.”

Thank You, Lord, for keeping her safe, and restoring her independence. “Did you get my message?”

“No. I saw you called then saw your text and didn’t want you to worry.” The sound of running water came from her side of the call. “What’s up?”

“Have you eaten yet? I need a break from studying.”

“I haven’t. What did you have in mind?”

“Mexican? Italian?” His body had used the sustenance from the banana already. “I’m good with anything.”

“Who all is going?”

He grimaced—she’d started the dance he’d wanted to avoid. “Just you and me.”

“Oh.”

“No funny stuff, I promise.”

“I don’t know.” The hesitation in her voice hurt.

Man, he missed her. “Please?”

“One condition.”

“Whatever you want.” Desperation leaked into his tone, and he prayed she didn’t pick up on it.

“We talk about what happened over Christmas.”

Her words slammed into him. Anything but that. Though maybe it would help get them back on track. “All right. Where do you want to go?”

“There’s a new hibachi place that opened last week. How about that?”

The suggestion surprised him. Not only would the restaurant be packed because of its newness, but hibachi didn’t lend itself to a private conversation—they were guaranteed to be sat around the grill with another party or two. However, he could already taste the salmon and fried rice. “Sounds good.”

“Give me a half hour to wash the paint off my face and get ready. Want me to meet you there?”

“I can pick you up.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

His nerves tangled into knots. She’d thrown him off guard with her request, and question after question ran through his mind. Did she want to clear the air between them so they could be friends again? Maybe she had feelings for him … maybe she didn’t need him anymore—even as a friend. Whoa. He cut off his thoughts before he went crazy. Wondering had no purpose except to give him a headache. He’d find out soon enough.

He went to his bedroom and examined the clothes hanging in his closet. Nothing jumped out at him. Anything too nice or too casual and he might give off the wrong impression. Finally, he settled on a navy rugby shirt with gold stripes, and a pair of fitted jeans. His short haircut didn’t offer many options for styling, so he simply ran a comb through it to flatten the few strands out of place.

Thoughts of Janie stayed with him on the drive to her house. More than anything he wanted back their easy camaraderie. The emotional distance between them left a gaping hole in his life.

Five minutes shy of the thirty she’d asked for, Evan parked in her driveway. He took a deep breath before walking to the door.

She greeted him with a cautious smile. “You’re early. Come in and wait while I find a pair of shoes.”

Her appearance stunned him. She’d gotten a haircut and added layers that made her hair bounce. Don’t think about running your hands through it. She wore a pair of skinny jeans and a sheer black top with white and pink flowers. Her outfit captured his attention, but what she didn’t wear stole the breath from his lungs.

She’d removed her wedding band. Because she’d been painting, or because she’d decided to move on? Would she tell him why? She left the room and returned a minute later wearing a pair of black ankle boots. “I’m ready.”

“How are your classes?” she asked once they hit the road.

“Good, except econ.”

“Didn’t Kate major in business? Maybe she could help.”

He laughed. “Yes, and I already thought of her, but her focus was on the human resources end. Besides, she’s been suffering from terrible morning sickness, and I don’t want to bother her.”

“She mentioned that yesterday when I talked to her. Most women don’t suffer as much in the second trimester, but she said it’s hit her worse now than in earlier stages.”

The communication between Kate and Janie shouldn’t have surprised him. They’d hit it off, but now he wondered if they’d had any conversations about him. Considering Kate had brought up Janie multiple times, he already knew the answer. “You know it’s bad when she’s had to miss work.”

“Have you heard from Jared since he left?”

“No. They weren’t allowed to take phones on this exercise.”

“I hated those trainings.” Janie wrinkled her nose. “Mike snuck his phone on the last one and would call me at night.”

“Until he got caught.” Evan glanced at her, realized she’d had no idea. “The last call cost him an extra twenty-mile hike in full equipment.”

“That explains why he didn’t call me at all the last week you guys were there. He never told me.”

“Probably didn’t want you to feel guilty on his behalf.” Stopped at a red light, he looked at her and saw a speck of paint in her hair. “You decided on sage green for the room?”

She arched a brow. “How did you know?”

“You have some in your hair.”

Her hands flew to her head and patted it. “Oh goodness. Where? How bad is it?”

“Barely noticeable.” He chuckled at her frantic reaction and pointed to the spot. “Smaller than a breadbox.”

“Very funny.” She lowered the visor and flipped open the mirror. Peered into it, then used her fingertips to scrape the paint. “Is that any better?”

Since he was driving again, he only gave her hair a cursory glance. “If I didn’t know what I was looking for, I wouldn’t know it was there at all.”

“Good.”

As expected, the restaurant was packed. He saw the line waiting outside before he entered the parking lot. “Do you mind waiting?”

“No. If the word around town is to be believed, it’s well worth the wait.”

Thanks to an exceptionally large parking lot, he found a space without circling. Opening the door, he sniffed. “I can smell the butter and salt from here.”

Janie grinned. “That’s what makes it amazing.”

He added their names to the list and settled in for the forty-minute wait. “How’s the apartment working out for your sisters?”

“Surprisingly well. As part of the agreement with my parents, Julie and Jessie have to pay their own utilities, so it’s teaching them responsibility.”

“That’s good.” He thought about the twins’ age—only four years younger than his twenty-four years. “Do you ever feel older than your age? Your sisters seem so much younger than us, but there’s not much of a difference.”

“I know what you mean, and I’ve thought about it, too.” She waved a hand in a circular motion. “You and I, and probably half the people in here have more life experience than most our age, that likely adds a decade to us.”

“Would you do it all over again, knowing how it would turn out?” As soon as the question came out, he could have kicked himself. Not exactly light dinner conversation.

The question didn’t faze her, a testament to the strength she’d found in recent months. “Without a doubt. Some people live their whole lives never experiencing the love Mike and I had. Sharing six years of marriage with him was worth the heartbreak at the end.”

His gaze drifted to her ring finger again. “You took it off?”

A bittersweet aura hovered over her. “It’s in my jewelry box. The decision wasn’t easy, but I finally realized that removing the ring doesn’t diminish what I shared with him, rather, it helps me establish my new life without clinging to the old.”

“If I haven’t told you yet, I’m really proud of you.” Hesitantly, he gave her hand a squeeze. “Your transformation this year has been remarkable.”

“It’s a day-by-day process.” Her eyes shifted downward and looked at his hand still on hers, but she didn’t pull away.

Neither did he, for a reason he knew too well but refused to accept.