Cindy slammed the door behind her and hurried down the steps, rushing out to Maggie's car before her friend could turn off the engine. She tossed the backpack in the backseat then climbed in and buckled her seatbelt, waving her hand at Maggie, silently telling her to go.

Maggie frowned then put the car in reverse, backing out of the driveway. An odd feeling of déjà vu swept over Cindy and she frowned. Was she imagining things? Or had this happened before?

Yes, it had. Almost a week ago, when Ethan had picked her up and taken her back to his place.

When he made love to her. Made her feel whole again.

When he made her want to live. And laugh. And cry.

And when he scared her to death and made her want to run away.

But she didn't, not then, no matter how much she wanted to. She couldn't, not when Ethan held her in his arms. So gentle, so sweet. Not when he made her feel treasured and wanted and…and needed. Comforted and reassured. No, she didn't run away then.

And she wasn't really running away now. Not really. This was more of an escape.

Maybe.

Cindy curled her hands into fists and held them in her lap. She wouldn't twist her hands, wouldn't fidget, wouldn't allow herself to do any of those things. She wasn't crazy, and those were things crazy people did.

Just like your father.

The words echoed in her head and sent icy shivers down her spine. Her skin prickled under the thick sweatshirt and heavy coat, chilling her even more. No. No, she wouldn't let it get to her. She couldn't, not if she wanted to believe she was getting better.

And she had to believe that. Had to. Because she was.

Maggie stopped at a traffic light and glanced over at her. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah." Cindy nodded. "Yeah. I just needed to get away from her for a little bit."

"Her? You mean your mom?" Cindy nodded and Maggie sighed, the sound filled with confusion. "What happened?"

"Nothing. She just…" Cindy let the words trail off as she looked out the window. Then she sighed and shook her head. "She thinks I'm crazy."

"She told you that?

"Not in those words, no. But she keeps telling me I remind her of Dad. That I'm just like him. And we know what happened to him, don't we?" She couldn't keep the bitterness and the hurt from her words.

Maggie sighed and looked at her, frowning. "Are you sure she meant it that way? Maybe…maybe she meant something else."

"Like what? What else could she mean?"

Maggie shrugged and shifted her attention to traffic. "I don't know. It just—it doesn't make sense, you know? I should talk to her. Tell her—"

"No. No, don't do that. It'll only make things worse."

"Worse? How can they be worse?"

Cindy shook her head, wishing she hadn't said anything. Was she reading too much into things? It didn't matter, not really—because she understood. A small part of her did, anyway. She remembered what they had gone through, that time before, when her father left.

Left? No, he hadn't left. He had killed himself, no longer able to cope with the inner demons clawing at him. Cindy remembered what she had gone through when it happened. And she knew how much harder it must have been for her mother.

She took a deep breath and looked out the window. "Maybe I am. Maybe she's just worried. Maybe she doesn't realize what she's saying."

"She should, though. We both know that."

Cindy didn't say anything else, just watched the cars around them as Maggie moved forward with the slow traffic. She took another deep breath, loosened her fists, then glanced at her friend. "Thanks for picking me up. I know you were probably busy and—"

"No worries. I needed a break anyway. The formulas were starting to all blur together."

Cindy smiled. "Just a few more months before graduation, huh? You must be getting excited."

Maggie looked over and gave her a sad smile before nodding. She pursed her lips, glanced at Cindy once more, then let out a rushed breath. "You could go back, you know. Finish up. It's not too late—"

"I'm not going back. It's—that's not what I want to do now. Not anymore."

"But all that time you spent—"

"I know. It's okay. Really, it is. And I haven't given up on it totally. I'm just…I'm not ready. Not for that field. Later maybe. But not right now."

"That almost sounds like you have something else in mind."

"I do. Maybe. I'm not sure. I want to talk to Dr. McCormack first. I was thinking about…about maybe becoming a counselor. Or a mentor. You know, to help out people who are going through the same thing? I think I'd like that."

"Cindy, that's great!"

"Yeah, well, I need to ask first. And I'm not ready yet, not quite where I need to be."

"But you're getting there." It was a statement, bold and confident. Cindy smiled, wondering if Maggie knew how much hearing her say that meant to her.

"Yeah, maybe. But it's a volunteer thing so I'm not sure…I need to find something to do, you know? I can't just stay around the house, not when that makes things worse. And it's not like I can get a place of my own, since I don't have a job."

"Move in with us."

"No." Cindy shook her head. Hadn't they had this conversation before? Yes, a few times. More than a few. But Maggie kept bringing it up, kept insisting. "I'm not moving in with you and Dillon. I keep telling you that. You guys are newlyweds. And as much as I love you both, I am not getting in your way. I mean, I'd be scarred for life if I walked in and saw you two—ugh. Just no."

Maggie glanced at her for a long second, probably longer than was safe considering she was driving. Then she started laughing, the sound light, filled with relief.

Cindy looked at her, frowning. "What is so funny?"

"You. I think that's the most you've said at one time in…I don't know how long." She reached over and squeezed Cindy's shoulder, nearly drifting into the other lane when she did. Maggie put both hands on the steering wheel and looked in the rearview mirror, narrowing her eyes at the car behind them. Then she glanced at Cindy again and smiled. "I think you're back."

"No. Not yet. But—" She took a deep breath and let it out, felt a small smile on her lips. "Getting there. A little at a time. I hope."

"You are. Don't doubt yourself."

"Yeah. Okay."

They drove a few more blocks in silence. Maggie pulled to a stop at another light then shifted in the seat. "So. Where are we going, anyway?"

"I thought maybe for a walk. I mean, if you don't mind. Getting out helps. And then, after that, I was wondering…how about a thick, juicy cheeseburger? And a chocolate milkshake?"

"Ooo. Brain food. I like the way you think. I'm in. Where did you want to go walk? Any particular place in mind? We could go to the high school. Or even back to the campus."

Cindy looked around, even though she knew exactly where they were. Would Maggie realize it? More importantly, would she say anything if Cindy suggested it?

She fidgeted in the seat and dropped her gaze to her lap, hoping she sounded nonchalant. "Um, there's a pretty nice jogging trail at a complex not too far from here. Peaceful. Backs up to a park. We, uh, we could go there."

"You mean to Ethan's?"

Should Cindy feign surprise? Act like she hadn't remembered? No, Maggie would see right through that. Besides, Maggie knew Cindy had been to Ethan's before. She just didn't know how recently.

Or what had happened between them.

"Uh, yeah. Ethan's. I mean, it's close and everything—"

"We can do that." Maggie glanced in the rearview mirror then moved into the left lane. "You know he's not home, right? They're on the road. Again."

"I know." Cindy studied her friend, wondered if she had merely imagined the faint trace of sadness in her voice. Had she missed something? She'd been so swept up in her own problems, her own battles, that something could have happened and she'd never know. "Everything okay? With you and Dillon, I mean?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I don't know. You just sounded…sad."

Maggie pulled into Ethan's complex and found an empty spot to park, then gave Cindy a small smile. "No, everything's good. I'm still getting used to him being gone. I didn't realize how often he'd be away. Practices. Meetings. Road games."

"Yeah, but you knew that when you started dating him, right?"

"I guess I wasn't really paying attention. Makes me wonder how he managed all that and finished his degree at the same time." She opened the door and got out, then smiled at Cindy over the roof of the car. "I guess I got a little spoiled this past summer."

"I hope so. It was your honeymoon, after all."

Maggie's grin widened. "Yeah, it was. And speaking of St. Thomas, are you ever going to tell me what happened with you and Ethan?"

Cindy turned her back on Maggie and started walking, hoping her friend had missed the heat quickly filling her face. She jammed her hands into the coat pockets and focused on putting one foot in front of the other, refusing to even glance at Maggie when she caught up with her.

"Ignoring me isn't going to work. I know better. So, what happened? And don't tell me nothing did. You wouldn't be blushing so hard if it didn't."

"Nothing happened."

Maggie laughed, the sound full of good-natured disbelief. "Liar. Dillon already told me something happened."

"How does he know?"

Maggie stopped, her eyes widening in feigned surprise. "You really need to ask me that? Um, hello. Dillon and Ethan are teammates, remember?"

Of course she remembered. She just didn't think Ethan would have told anyone about it. What else had he said? Would he have told Dillon what happened between them the other night? No, he couldn't have. Not about that. That was too…personal. Too…too frightening.

For her.

Maggie stepped closer, nudging her. A look of horror crossed her face and she stepped back, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh God, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to…"

Cindy tilted her head, frowning. "Didn't mean to what?"

"Touch you. I wasn't thinking—"

"Maggie, it's fine. I'm not—you didn't freak me out." Cindy tried to hide her own surprise, tried to act like it wasn't a big deal. But it was. Someone had touched her and she hadn't freaked. Hadn't stiffened and moved away. And it wasn't the first time, either. Earlier, in the car, Maggie had placed her hand on her shoulder. Cindy hadn't realized it at the time, hadn't given it any thought.

Tears clogged her throat and welled in her eyes. She looked away, blinking, trying to hide them. Was she finally getting better? Was this another step in the right direction? The heavy grayness no longer hovered at her side, threatening to wrap around her and pull her under. It was still there, lurking, but not as close. And not as often.

She wasn't fidgeting, wasn't tired and edgy as much as before. She didn't want to crawl into a corner and hide. And she was eating now, was hungry more often than not.

Small steps, each one barely noticeable, happening so slowly that she hadn't realized it. At least, not as much as she should have. Or maybe she had been too afraid to trust in it, too afraid to hope.

When? When had she first noticed the small improvements? Last week? Yes, right after spending the night with Ethan. Right after he told her—

No, it was nothing more than coincidence. She had already been improving, slow improvements here and there. Even Dr. McCormack had told her that, had told she just needed to trust in herself. Being with Ethan had nothing to do with it.

Unless she had been so preoccupied with what he'd said that she hadn't noticed anything else.

"Cindy? Are you okay?"

"Yeah." She turned back to Maggie, forced a smile to her face. "Yeah. I'm okay. I think…I think I really am."

Maggie covered her mouth with both hands, moisture welling in her brown eyes. She blinked then laughed, the sound small, carefree, filled with happiness. She blinked again, moved her glasses up and wiped a hand across her eyes, then nudged Cindy with her elbow. "I want to jump up and down and scream and laugh and cry all at the same time."

Cindy nodded, trying to smile and clear her throat and act normal all at once. Maggie bounced closer, pulled her in for a quick hug, then stepped back and looped her arm through Cindy's. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes, not until they reached the jogging trail. Then Maggie dropped her arm and they started walking, their pace not exactly leisurely but not brisk, either.

They had gone maybe ten yards before Maggie stopped and faced her. "Okay, I can't handle it anymore. What's going on with you and Ethan? What happened down in St. Thomas?"

Cindy sighed then moved over to the bench at the side of the trail. Is this why Maggie chose to stop here? Probably. She sat down and slid over, making room for Maggie, then focused on the bare branches of the tree on the other side of the trail.

"Nothing. It was just a fling, that was all. You know: sun, sand, tropical drinks. It just…happened."

"Really?" Maggie's voice dripped with disbelief. "A 'fling'? It 'just happened'? With the way you two have always been around each other? I'm not buying it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just what I said. Dillon and I were convinced something was going on between you two from the start."

"No, not until St. Thomas. We were—are—just friends."

"You expect me to believe that?"

Cindy glanced at her then sighed. "If…if things had been different when I got back, if everything hadn't happened, then maybe. I don't know. But that didn't happen and now…"

"Now, what?"

Cindy shrugged, trying to hide her disappointment—and her fear of the words Ethan had said the other night. "Now, we're just…friends."

"Are you sure about that? Because I know he calls you almost every night. Dillon told me."

"That's all we can be, Maggie. I can't—how can I let it be anything else, when I'm the way I am? I can't do that to him, can't put him through that."

"When you are the way you are? What does that even mean?"

"You know what it means." Cindy looked away, waving her hands in the air, silently encompassing everything that happened these past five months, everything that was still going on, everything that could still happen. "My issues. The depression. The anxiety. All of it. For all I know, I could turn out to be just like my father. I could—"

"You are not your father, Cindy. Not even close. Don't say that."

"You don't know that. I could be. I could fall off the edge in the blink of an eye, before anyone knew what happened."

Maggie rested her hand on Cindy's arm, the touch reassuring. There was understanding and sympathy in her voice when she spoke. But there was something else: resolve. Certainty. "That's not what happened with him. And it won't happen with you."

"But what if it does? What if I turn out like him? I can't put Ethan through that, not knowing what happened to my mom, to me. I just can't."

"So are you just going to stop living? Because something might happen? Because the depression might come back?"

"No. Of course not."

"Then what are you so afraid of? There's something between the two of you, there always has been. Why not take a chance and see what happens?"

"Because it's not fair to Ethan. Not when I don't know what could happen."

"Cindy, so many things could happen. Things change in a heartbeat, you know that. But you can't stop living just because of maybes."

"But this isn't just a maybe, Maggie. The depression will come back. Next month, next year. Maybe not for five years. But it will come back. This is something I'm going to be dealing with my whole life. Ethan deserves better. Things like this—they can be genetic. What if—what if I pass this down to my kids? I can't do that to Ethan."

Maggie shifted on the bench, her gaze too intent, seeing too much as she studied Cindy. She took a deep breath, a wobbly smile on her face. "I was just talking about dating, seeing where things went with you two. I guess I must have missed a few things if you're already thinking about kids."

Cindy's mouth snapped shut and she looked away, her face heating. Had she given away too much?

It didn't matter, not when nothing could come of it. She took a deep breath and sagged against the bench. She dropped her gaze to her lap and picked at the cuticle of her thumb, wondering how much to tell Maggie.

Did it matter? No, it didn't.

She took another deep breath, let the words out in a rush. "Ethan told me he loved me."

Silence greeted the confession, a silence that went on for so long that Cindy turned her head and frowned. Maggie was frowning as well, her eyes narrowed, her lips pursed. Cindy sat back, caught off-guard by the ferocity in her friend's eyes.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because I'm trying to convince myself not to hit you."

"What? Why?"

"Because you need some sense smacked into you. Cindy, I don't understand. You and Ethan are perfect for each other. You always have been. And if he loves you…how can you just throw that away?"

"I'm not throwing—"

"Really? What did you say when he told you?"

"I—" Cindy's mouth snapped closed and she looked away, the night replaying in her mind. Ethan, telling her he loved her. Then kissing her, silencing her when she hadn't even known what to say.

No, that wasn't true. She had wanted to tell him how she felt, to say she loved him, too. But she couldn't, was afraid to say it. And then there was no need for words, not while they made love.

And then it was too late, the moment passed. Or had it? She frowned, remembering the shadows playing in Ethan's eyes as they lay there, wrapped in each other's arms. Had it been too late? Could she have said something then?

No. Because what she told Maggie had been the truth: she couldn't do that to Ethan, couldn't saddle him with so many unknowns. He deserved better.

"You didn't say anything, did you? Didn't even tell him your concerns."

Cindy shook her head, afraid to look at Maggie, afraid of the disappointment she was certain she'd see.

"I have a question for you and I want you to answer honestly."

Cindy lifted her head, not quite meeting Maggie's gaze as she nodded. "Okay."

"If nothing had changed after St. Thomas—if you hadn't been diagnosed with MDD—what would you have done? Would you have kept seeing Ethan?"

"Yeah. I think so."

"And if things kept going and he told you he loved you, what would you have done?"

"I would have told him how I feel."

"Which is?"

"That I—" Cindy's voice cracked and she had to swallow, clear her throat. "That I love him."

Maggie reached out, placed her hand on Cindy's shoulder and squeezed. Cindy looked up, saw the sad smile on Maggie's face. "Then why is now any different? Why would you deny yourself the chance to be happy?"

"Because it is different. Everything is different now."

"No, Cindy, it's not. You're still you, the same person you've always been. Don't use everything you've been through the last few months as an excuse to hide from happiness."

"Excuse? How can you say that, knowing what happened? You saw me, you know what I went through—"

"I know. I did. And that's not how I meant it. You know me, know I would never think that."

"Then why did you—"

"Because I think you're afraid to take a chance on yourself. You always have been. For as long as I've known you, you've always shied away from relationships, always worried about everyone else instead. Don't let fear take away this chance. Don't throw this away because of what you think might happen."

"It's not that easy. And it's not fair to Ethan—"

"You keep saying that. But have you even talked to him about it? Told him how you feel? Have you even given him a chance to make his own decision?"

"I—" Cindy hesitated, not knowing what to say. Then she slowly shook her head.

"Then don't you think you should, instead of making the decision for him?"

"What if I do, and end up losing him as a friend?"

Maggie gave her shoulder another squeeze, her eyes soft and understanding. "What if you do and gain so much more than a friend?"