Normally an early riser, Ethan rolled over and groaned.

He threw a forearm over his eyes to block the sun streaming in through the blinds. His temples throbbed, and his mouth felt like it was stuffed with a wad of gauze. He rolled to his side and pushed into a seated position. Misery accompanied the next groan.

Trapper nudged him in the crotch, just to make sure he was awake.

“Thanks, buddy. I don't need that kind of help this morning.”

He patted the dog’s head and attempted to stand. He grabbed the dresser to stop the room from spinning. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

Trapper gave him a disgusted look.

“Yeah, okay. I knew opening the bottle of whiskey wasn't a good idea.”

A loud crash in the living room below had him holding his head. When he didn’t hear screaming or crying, he headed for the bathroom first before working his way down the stairs. He held the railing to make sure he wouldn’t be the next thing to crash into the living room.

“You’re up.” Noelle’s perky cheer was a bit too loud. “I mean really up.”

He glanced down. “Sorry. My sweats are still in the wash.”

“Do you want me to get them for you?”

“Please?”

She moved too fast for his mind to catch up. He closed his eyes and waited for the room to stop spinning. “Here.” She shoved the wad of black fabric in his direction. He cracked one eye open and held the fabric to his middle.

The scent of coffee permeated his nose, and he took an extra deep breath. “There is a God.”

She giggled at his expense. “I made extra coffee after I saw the half-empty whiskey bottle. I figured you'd need a bit of help this morning.”

He’d spent the night reliving his life with Brigitte and Callie so he could store their memories in a beautiful, safe place and make a commitment to get unstuck.

As much as he loved Tom, he didn't want to end up like his uncle, spending every spare moment in their urgent care clinic just to keep busy. And if Tom was his father, he wanted to learn how to be a proper son. Not the studious student, or the intelligent doctor, but a son who remembered birthdays, and met his dad for an early morning jog, and on Sundays went fishing with him.

“Would you mind setting it on the coffee table? I’m afraid if I let go I’ll embarrass myself.”

Tubs and boxes lined the wall, and the tree once sparkling and crowded with tiny mementos was bare. “What are you doing?” he whimpered, gripping the handrail harder.

“I wanted to get this stuff packed up before I left.”

He stumbled down the last few steps, pleased with himself for being able to maintain his dignity. “Would you mind?” He lifted his hand and twirled his index finger in a small circle.

“You mean you want me to turn around?”

He managed a nod.

“Nope. I want to see if you can actually balance in your condition.”

His lip managed a sneer. “Fine.” He shuffled over behind the couch and leaned over—carefully—to slide on his sport pants.

“You’re no fun.”

He regretted the underperforming smile on her face. He was being moody, sullen, not the person he wanted to be. Not with her, anyway.

She was wearing jeans and a red sweater. She looked like a nicely wrapped Christmas present. If only she’d put a bow on her chest. He’d love to lay her on the couch and open her package.

“You don't need to clean up. Leave it. I'll pack the decorations later and get the stuff over to your mom’s.” He sank down to the couch and reached for his coffee mug. “I was thinking about going out for a hike later on. Do you want to come?”

She shifted, looking around the room like she couldn’t decide what to do. “I can’t. Sorry. I promised Ashley and Mara we would do lunch. Then I’m going to head over to the salon to sing carols to Mrs. Talbott. She wasn’t feeling well yesterday, and the singalong was postponed until today. I’m already late.”

He gulped the coffee, hoping the caffeine would produce more ideas for ways to get her to stay. The bowl of pinecones, the Christmas stockings, and the wreath on the front door had already disappeared. It almost felt like she was already gone. He pulled in a long whiff of her perfume, knowing the memory of the scent would fade with time.

His breath caught. He didn’t want the scent to disappear. In fact, he wanted to smell her every day.

She placed a lid on the box. “Well, I better get my car loaded.”

“Stay.” He blurted out. “Stay with me.”

She paused. “Are you talking to Trapper? ’Cause he’s in the kitchen.”

“No, I’m talking to you.”

She looked like he’d just given her an injection.

“I mean…stay, here, with me. Don’t go to LA.”

She took a step closer. “Why, Ethan? Why do you want me to stay?”

She wanted a reason. Dear, Lord. He urged his dehydrated brain to function. Think of something. Anything. Please, he begged. He grabbed onto the only forming thought. “You have friends here.” The excuse deflated as soon as it was out of his mouth.

Disgust poked at his temples, and he winced. Great job, Ethan. Award-winning.

She walked to the front door to set the tub by her purse. “I have a friend in LA, too. That’s not a good enough reason for me to stay.”

He released a quick breath filled with an aching regret. He needed to try harder. “But I’m not in LA. I’m here, and I want you to stay—here, with me.”

“As your roommate?”

“Yes. You don’t need to pay rent. I’ve got that covered.”

“So…you need someone to watch Trapper while you work.”

“If you could do that, I would appreciate it.”

“Would you like me to make the meals?”

“I love your cooking.”

Suddenly her face and neck had become red and splotchy. “Noelle,” he pointed. “Do you have a rash? It looks like you might be allergic to something.”

“The only thing I’m allergic to is you, Ethan. You don't want a roommate—remember? And if you need a dog walker, a cook, and a maid, I suggest you post an ad on Craigslist. Don't forget to mention you’re a doctor, and I'm sure you'll get plenty of responses.”

Before he could figure out what she meant, rather than said, she had her hand on the front doorknob and her purse over her shoulder. “Wait.”

“For what, Ethan? I want to be a songwriter. I’m good at it, and I can’t imagine not singing. And you…well, you need to figure out if you’ll ever be able to let another person into your life. Love is messy, and complicated, and amazing when it’s right. But the only way it can be right is if two people are open and honest with each other.”

“I’m being honest.”

“You may think you’re being honest, but you’re not. I read your letters to Brigitte. She loved you, but you never felt you deserved her love. Why is that Ethan? Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do know, and until you figure it out, I need to do my thing. I refuse to be part of a one-sided relationship again. I deserve better, and in the end, so do you.”

He swore there was a wobble in her voice as she opened the front door.

“I’ll be back to get Cheddar later, and pack my things. Have a nice day, Ethan.”

The door clicked shut behind her, but all he heard was Noelle saying goodbye.

The feeling of being unlovable again tightened the chain around his throat.

He leaned back against the couch. The silence of the house expanded into a deafening roar. He never realized how empty his life had become. He thought of Noelle. The few days they shared. He didn’t want a roommate.

He wanted Noelle. As messy and loud and unpredictable as she was, he wanted her. Her and no one else.

The throbbing of his head doubled, and he closed his eyes to think of a new plan, only he drifted into a fitful sleep. Several hours later he woke up again. The sun streamed through the window, and he felt a bit more sober. He pulled his hands down his face. He needed to get it together. He replayed the earlier conversation with Noelle in his head frame by frame.

He’d blown it.

Big time.

But that didn't mean he wouldn’t do a better job the next time. By his calculations, he had only one more shot. He had to hit the vein. Otherwise, he'd lose her forever.

He only had one option.

He shuffled to the kitchen to retrieve his cell phone, pulled up the keypad, and dialed from memory.

“Hello?”

“Mom? It’s Ethan.”

“Ethan. What a surprise.”

No, it’s not Sunday, no need to check the calendar. “I need your advice.” Ethan rested his hip against the counter. “You’re a woman.”

“Glad you noticed, son,” she replied, with a chuckle tacked on.

“Okay, that was stupid.” He pressed the pressure points near the corner of his eyes. “You must have dated before dad, right?”

She hesitated. “Yes. There was a boy I cared for quite a lot, actually.” Her voice had become soft. Cautious.

“Obviously you broke up, or you wouldn’t be with dad.” He chose his words carefully. “But right before you broke up, if he could have said one thing that would have convinced you to stay, what would it have been?”

“What’s this all about?”

He tightened his grip on the phone. “I met this woman. Her name’s Noelle.”

“Oh,” her voice lifted and lightened. “You’ve met someone. Someone special.”

“Yes. She’s amazing, Mom.” Ethan poked at a pinecone she’d selected from the yard, rolling it across the counter. “I think you would like her, but she’s leaving for LA.”

“And you're staying in Elkridge.”

He looked at his feet. “I love it here.”

“Have you asked her to stay?”

“I did, but she insists on going, even though deep down I don’t think it’s what she wants.”

“Have you told her how you feel?”

Ethan pressed a hand against his forehead and rubbed. “I just met her.”

He could almost hear his mother’s smile through the phone. “But you love her. I can hear it in your voice.”

“It’s different this time, Mom. She’s nothing like Brigitte. Wait, that’s not true. She’s giving and kind, but so much more.”

“Then tell her what’s in your heart.”

“I love her. But, what if she doesn’t believe me?”

“If I had let my first boyfriend know how I felt about him, I think my life would have been different.” The words sounded jammed together, like she had difficulty getting them out.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” The quiver in her voice was doubly odd since he’d never known his mother to show emotion. “William offered me security”—she coughed to cover the emotion—“…and I accepted it. As foolish as that sounds, now.”

Foolish for not believing in Tom, you mean. “I bet your boyfriend regrets not telling you he loved you.”

“Maybe. Maybe I should have told him. But there’s no going back. We made our choices.”

The stubborn strength he’d grown up with had returned. But, now and forevermore, he’d know it was only a façade.

I will not hurt your mother. His uncle’s words trudged through his mind. “Then I had better make the right choice. Otherwise, I’ll have to live for the rest of my life with what-ifs and never knowing what might have been.”

“There is one thing I will never regret.” His mother’s voice strengthened.

“What’s that, Mom?”

“You. You were my first. When you came into my life, I needed you. You filled my life with joy back then, and you still do today. I know I shouldn’t say this, but you’ve always been my favorite.”

“Yours, but not Dad’s.” And now I know why.

“William has always been a complicated man, just like your grandfather. Both married for money, position, never love.”

She didn’t need to tell him the truth, if she even knew the whole truth. It didn’t matter anymore. He loved his mother, and he didn’t care if he lived up to his father’s expectations. He’d accomplished what he set out to do. He healed people. That’s what he was good at. Now it was time to heal himself.

“You are loved, Mom.” Ethan switched the phone to his other ear. “I love you.”

“Don’t waste those words on me. Go tell them to your Noelle.” By the tone is his mother’s voice he could tell not one syllable of his previous statement had gone to waste.

“I will. Take care, Mom.”

A voice bellowed in the background. “William is calling. I’d better go.”

“I’ll call next week.”

“That would be nice, dear.”

Ethan’s smile faded as he placed the phone on the counter. His gut churned. “Love.” He said the word out loud. It felt right. Felt good. Felt real.

“Now I just need to find a way to convince Noelle.”

But would she believe he’d fallen for her so quickly? After all these years?

She’d have to believe him, or he’d end up stuck in a cage, alone again.