Ethan pulled into the driveway and cut the engine, hesitating, not ready to get out of the car just yet. He ran his hands along his legs, the worn denim soft under his palms. He was nervous, and he had no idea why.

He snorted. That was a lie: he knew exactly why. He was just having trouble understanding it.

Cindy had called him a few hours ago, sounding…better. Not quite the way she used to but not as quiet, either. Not as sad or lost. She had asked him about the games, listened as he talked about the losses on the road. She had even laughed when he told her about the pranks Derek had pulled on Brad and Corbin.

And then she had grown quiet and he wondered if maybe he'd lost the connection. Or if maybe she had slipped back into that zone he sometimes noticed her in, like she was in her own world, her mind far away, reliving something.

Or maybe just escaping something.

His gut twisted with the stabbing pain the thought brought. He hated seeing her like that, wished there was something he could do to help, some way to help her through it.

Wished that simply pulling her into his arms and holding her would fix everything. But it wasn't that simple. Nothing ever was.

It didn't matter anyway, not this time. He hadn't lost the connection, and he hadn't lost her. At least, not in that sense. She had taken a deep breath, deep enough he could hear it over the phone, then asked if he could stop by. The request was almost whispered, the words uttered quickly, as if she was afraid she might not get them out if she didn't hurry. But he still heard the shyness in her voice, the hesitation.

He didn't say the words he wanted to say: that he'd do anything for her, anything she asked. Instead, he just simply asked her what time she wanted him to come by.

And now he was here, wondering what prompted the invitation, wondering if something was wrong. Worrying that maybe something had happened.

And he wouldn't find out if he didn't get his ass out of the car and get moving.

He took a deep breath and opened the door, swung his legs to the side and climbed out. He was ready to walk around the car, to head up the sidewalk when the front door of the tidy split-level opened and Cindy stepped out. Ethan stopped, his breath leaving him in a rush, making him feel like he'd just taken a fist to the gut.

She looked…different. But different in a good way. Instead of the baggy jeans and bulky sweatshirts he had grown used to seeing her in, she was dressed in a pair of black leggings and tall black boots. Her coat hung open over a gray sweater that came past her hips. She was still too thin but not as bad as before. Was it his imagination, or did he actually see some color in her face?

He hesitated, watching her as she walked toward him. No, it wasn't his imagination: she wasn't as pale as before. Or maybe it was nothing more than the hint of makeup she was wearing. It didn't matter, because she looked better, healthier, than she had the last time he'd seen her, right before their road trip.

He leaned back on his heels and jammed his hands into his pockets, forcing himself to stay where he was instead of running toward her and grabbing her in a large hug. Yeah, because that would go over real well. It would probably send her scampering back into the house.

Which was the last thing he wanted.

But he didn't hide his grin. He couldn't, not when she looked so good. She stopped at the end of the sidewalk and adjusted the worn backpack on her shoulder. Green eyes, wide and a little hesitant, met his. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth then looked away, her chest rising and falling with a deep breath.

"You look great."

Her eyes darted back to his and Ethan worried that maybe he had sounded too enthusiastic. He shifted, took a step toward her, then stopped. "I mean it. You look good. It's, uh, been a good week?"

"Yeah. I think."

"One day at a time, right?"

Cindy nodded then adjusted the backpack again. She glanced over her shoulder then looked toward his car. "Do you mind…I mean, is it okay if we go to your place instead? I just…I think I need to get out of here for a few hours. If not, that's—"

"Yeah, that's cool. We can do that. Sure." He moved forward as she got closer and took the backpack from her. Was it his imagination, or had she stiffened just the tiniest bit when his hand accidentally grazed her neck? No, it was probably his imagination because she looked up and gave him a small smile.

It was the sweetest thing he'd seen in months, if not longer. He hesitated, wondering if he looked as stunned as he felt. How could just a small smile have the power to send him reeling like that? To send his pulse soaring? To cause the blood to rush from his head?

And maybe he did look like an idiot because now Cindy was staring up at him, a frown creasing the delicate features of her face. He started to step back, afraid that maybe he was standing too close to her, but then stopped as she raised her hand. Her fingers trembled, just the tiniest bit, as she reached for him. Then she brushed the tip of one finger against his face, just under his eye.

Her touch wavered before she finally dropped her hand, the frown still in place. "What happened?"

Ethan reached up, touched the small bandage he had completely forgotten about, then tried to smile. "Nothing. Just a scuffle on the ice."

"A scuffle? That looks like it came from more than a scuffle. Does it hurt?"

No, not at all. But he couldn't get the words to come, was afraid to open his mouth for fear of what might come out.

Afraid he'd ask if she wanted to kiss it and make it better. And wouldn't that be the absolute worst thing he could say? So he just shrugged then stepped around Cindy and opened the door for her, waiting as she settled into the front seat. He handed her the backpack then hurried around to the driver's side, backing out of the driveway a little too fast.

Afraid she might change her mind.

They didn't talk much on the drive back to his place, but they didn't need to. The silence was a comfortable one, filled with the soft sounds of country music floating from the speakers. Ethan glanced over at her every few minutes, watching without being obvious. She wasn't fidgeting, not like she was the last time he'd seen her. She wasn't twisting her hands in her lap and her gaze wasn't bouncing from one thing to another to another. In fact, she almost seemed…serene. Calm.

He came to a stop at the light outside the complex where he lived then looked over, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I like your hair, by the way. I should have said something earlier."

Cindy reached up with one hand and smoothed it over her sleek hair. It was just a little shorter now, the ends curled up in a loose carefree style instead of hanging straight and limp. He had no idea what kind of style it was but it looked good on her. Kind of loose, swinging when she moved her head. Almost…upbeat.

He bit back the snort. Upbeat? Hair wasn't upbeat. What the hell was wrong with him?

Cindy finally lowered her hand and glanced over, giving him another small smile, this one almost shy. "Thanks. Maggie took me yesterday, said I needed a change. She was right."

Something flashed in her eyes. Regret? Sorrow? Impatience? Ethan couldn't tell. And then the light changed and he had to turn, had to pay attention to where he was driving until he pulled up in front of the building housing his condo.

It was an older place, not as big or fancy as a condo he could get downtown. But the complex was small, no more than ten buildings that housed three large units each, one on each floor. Originally an old apartment complex, the renovated white stone buildings were surrounded by mature trees and backed up to a wooded park that had a jogging trail. It was quiet, peaceful. And the corner unit he owned was on the bottom, giving him the added benefit of more outside space.

Not that he was home that often.

He glanced over at Cindy and wondered what she thought of it. She'd been here before, of course, but he had never asked her opinion. Maybe it was too old for her, too outdated or not modern enough.

Maybe he should think about moving. There were plenty of options downtown. Maybe she'd prefer one of those sleek high-rises that overlooked the Inner Harbor. Not that he was going to ask her to move in or anything. But still, maybe he should give it some thought.

"I've always loved this place. It's so peaceful here."

And maybe he should just stop thinking stupid thoughts. Move? No, he didn't want to move. And he was glad Cindy liked his place.

For whatever reason—reasons he probably shouldn't even be thinking about.

He climbed out of the car and hurried around to the other side, but Cindy was already getting out. She tossed the backpack over her shoulder and gave him another shy smile as they headed toward his building. Then he was unlocking the door, holding it open for her as he palmed the switch to turn on the lights against the encroaching darkness.

Cindy stepped past him, into the living area. She dropped the backpack onto the overstuffed chair then stood there, looking around. Ethan gave the room a quick glance, making sure there weren't any dirty dishes laying around. No, it was clean. He hadn't been home for over a week and the cleaning service he used had been there just yesterday. Even he couldn't make that big of a mess that fast.

Not that he ever did.

He turned to watch Cindy, saw the way she was still looking around, like this was the first time she'd seen the place. And he suddenly wondered what she thought of it. Too masculine? Too bare?

The furniture was comfortable, the sofa and loveseat and matching chair upholstered in a soft brown leather that reminded him of an old bomber jacket. And they were designed for lounging, not as show pieces. The tables were sturdy pieces, each made from reclaimed barn wood. A large flat screen television hung on the far wall, just above a gas fireplace. To the right of the fireplace was a narrow table that held knickknacks and pictures. His gaze landed on one and his breath froze in his lungs. Would Cindy notice it? What would she think if she saw it?

It was of the two of them on the beach in St. Thomas. They were lounging side by side, tropical drinks in their hands and smiles on their faces. His arm was draped around Cindy as she rested her head against his shoulder. Brad had taken it with his cell phone, along with at least a hundred more that week. Ethan had pestered him for a copy, finally resorting to physical threats until Brad laughed and sent it to him.

If Cindy noticed it, she didn't say anything. Was that a good thing or not? Ethan wasn't sure. Part of him wanted to point it out, just to see what her reaction would be. Would she smile? Or would she shy away from him, thinking it odd that he had their picture on display?

No, better to just leave well enough alone and save himself from any possible disappointment.

He moved through the living room and turned into the kitchen, talking to her over his shoulder. "Did you want anything to drink? Soda? Tea? Water? I think I have something of everything in here."

"No thanks, I'm fine."

Ethan backtracked and returned to the living room, stopped and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Did you want to take your jacket off? Unless you're cold. I mean, if you're cold I can turn the heat up. Or start the fireplace."

He nodded toward the fireplace then inwardly cringed, knowing she'd probably see the picture if she looked over. But he was worried over nothing because she didn't look, just shrugged out of her coat and handed it to him. He took it, tried not to jump back when their fingers touched, then hung it on the rack by the front door.

Cindy lowered herself to the sofa, her gaze lowered to her lap. She placed her hands on either leg, rubbing her thighs for a few seconds before suddenly stopping and folding her hands in her lap. Ethan stayed where he was, not sure if he should take a seat next to her, or on the loveseat. Or maybe in the chair, which was even further away.

Cindy finally looked up at him, then reached out to pat the cushion next to her. "You can have a seat. I won't cringe. Honest."

Ethan wasn't sure what to make of her words. Her lips curled up, just briefly, almost like she was smiling—or trying to. It was good that she was joking, right? Yes, of course it was.

He finally nodded and took a seat, shifting sideways so he could look at her. Her eyes met his then darted away.

"Are you sure you don't want anything to drink?"

"I'm positive."

"Okay. But if you do, just let me know—"

"I don't want anything to drink." She hesitated, drew in a quick breath, and tried to smile. "But I do kind of have a question for you."

Ethan sat back, trying not to frown. "A question?"

"Well, more like a favor, I guess."

"A favor?"

"Yeah. I mean, you can say no, I understand. It wouldn't be a big deal. So you shouldn't be afraid to say no."

Ethan leaned forward, his hand reaching for her. He dropped it at the last second, barely brushing her shoulder. Did she notice? Maybe. Maybe not. "I think I can handle a favor. That's what friends are for, right?"

A shadow passed across her face and she looked away. She ran her teeth across her lower lip, biting down for a second before glancing over at him again. Just a quick glance, their eyes barely meeting. "Friends. Yeah. That, um, might be why you say no. And honest, I totally understand if you do. It won't—it won't freak me out or upset me if you do, so—"

"Cindy, stop." He shifted closer, his leg not quite brushing against hers, and smiled. "Whatever it is, I'll do my best to do it. Okay?"

She finally nodded, her gaze lifting to his—and holding it. Beautiful eyes, so deep a green, they took his breath away. But it wasn't just her eyes that made his heart slam into his chest—it was what he saw in them. Hope. Fear. Trepidation and hesitation. But mostly hope, its glow flickering like a candle ready to sputter out, its flame spent. He didn't want it to go out. He wanted to fan it to life, to watch it grow and burn bright as it chased away everything else.

Cindy breathed in, slow and deep, like she was mentally preparing herself for…something. But her gaze never wavered from his, not even when she slowly reached out and rested one trembling hand against his thigh.

"I—I want you to touch me."

Ethan swallowed, wondering if his heart had just shot through his chest. It must have, as hard as it knocked against his sternum. He cleared his throat, prayed his voice wouldn't crack. "T-touch you? You mean, like, hold you?"

"No. Yes. I mean—" She closed her eyes, took another deep breath, opened them. "I mean…I want you to touch me. Like you did in St. Thomas."

Ethan blinked, afraid he was hearing things. Afraid he was dreaming. Afraid to so much as move. He looked into Cindy's eyes and felt time screech to a halt around them.

And what he saw in their depths made the breath leave his lungs in a rush.