“Here's to life.” My best friend, Cane Bristow, tipped a crystal highball glass in my direction.

I lifted my glass and nodded.

He had scotch.

I had water.

But we toasted just the same.

As much as I craved the smooth burn of a good scotch, I wasn’t going to touch it.

Cane, however, didn’t have my demons—not when it came to booze, at least. And he had a reason to drink.

He’d just buried his last surviving family member. He’d come back to California for that very reason.

For the past year, he’d been in Virginia, stationed at an Army base there. I still couldn’t believe he’d gone and joined the damn military. It was even harder—and scarier—to believe that he was shipping out to Vietnam in less than a week.

My best friend was being deployed.

He had to be crazy. Most men our age had been drafted, but if you were in the entertainment business, you could figure out how to get a pass easy enough. I didn’t get called up. But Cane had—and instead of trying to get an exemption, he’d decided he needed to do it.

I was scared to death for him.

So many Americans had already come back dead or missing pieces. And not all of those were always visible, either.

Cane had managed to hold off on deployment while his uncle slowly lost the battle to cancer, but now that he was gone, Cane would be shipping out.

I didn’t want to see it happen. I didn’t want to risk losing my friend.

I’d already lost too much, and the last time I’d taken a hard hit, I’d gone spiraling down so fast, it was a miracle I wasn’t dead already.

Over the rim of my glass, I studied Cane. He was in uniform, hair cut short and sitting straight and tall. I barely recognized him.

“Are you sure you want to head over there and get involved?”

“I don't have much choice, you know that.” Cane tipped his drink at me one more time, a grim smile on his face. “I'm already committed.”

“Fuck that.” I stared down at my water as he took another slow sip of his scotch. It was a nice year—twenty years old.

I’d sell my left nut for a taste.

I’d woken up in a lousy mood. Last night, I’d had another fight with Kimberly. It had left me feeling hollow and empty inside, and I’d spent half the night driving around, trying to clear my head.

It hadn’t worked.

By the time Cane had shown up at my door, I’d been dressed in one of my better suits, fueled with coffee and stale toast. The suit didn’t fit all that well. I’d lost weight since Mrs. B had died. Florence had offered to help me find somebody to replace her. But there was no replacing the woman who’d helped raise me.

My stomach was a hollow ache, but the thought of eating was enough to nauseate me even more.

“You have another fight with Kim?”

Shooting Cane a dark look, I asked, “What makes you think that?”

“You’re in a lousy mood. That usually does it.” He lifted a shoulder while his fingers drummed restlessly on the table.

“Good point.” I shrugged. “Yeah, we had a fight.”

I seriously regretted ever getting involved with her. Sure, this ‘relationship’ was helping my career, and hers too. She was an exceptional actress, and when she put her public face on, people saw a woman who was truly sorry for how she’d once conducted herself. They saw a woman who loved children, adored animals, cared about the less fortunate. A Mother Teresa in designer gowns.

But I had to deal with what she was like when that public face came off.

The nicer she acted in the public eye, the meaner she got in private.

“Why don’t you just call things off?” Cane suggested. “That woman is a barracuda. No. She’s worse. She’s a man-eater, put here to suck a man dry and leave him an empty, soulless husk.”

“I’m already an empty soulless husk.” Maya had seen to that. “Besides, we were talking about you. You’ve got to be crazy, letting them send you to that place. Don’t go, man. Okay? Just don’t go.”

Cane shrugged. “Like I said, it’s already a done deal. I have to go.”

“You could let me break your arm. Your leg. You’d get medical leave or whatever that’s called. I’d do it for a friend.”

I wasn't entirely joking, either.

Cane snorted, but he didn’t sound amused. “No. For the last time, I’m doing this. I’m serving my country. It's the decent thing to do.”

Decent. Dying in somebody else’s fight is a decent thing to do? But I didn’t say that out loud. I didn’t want to spend this time arguing with him. This was the first time I’d seen him in months. I didn’t want to think it could be the last time.

“Yeah, yeah.” Blowing out a breath, I took another drink of water to distract myself from how thirsty I was. It didn’t help. Water wasn’t what I wanted, but I wasn’t going to lose my brain to the fog of whiskey again.

“You talk to Florence lately?” he asked, lifting his own drink to his lips.

Cane and I had been friends a good long while. That was the only reason I caught the faint flicker in his gaze as he delivered that casual question.

Leaning back in the chair, I studied him. “No. Why?”

“No reason.” He gave me an easy smile, but the shrug that followed had just a touch of tension to it. “Just wondering.”

Like hell. “Is she okay? She's not fighting with Astor, is she?” Florence had gone and gotten married in a quiet ceremony not long after she’d left the clinic. She still worked, and she was in huge demand, but she was more focused on her husband and her life with him than her career.

“No. Hell no.” Cane laughed, shaking his head. “I don't know if those two have ever really fought. They're like... Romeo and Juliet or something, if those two idiot kids hadn't gone and killed themselves. They're perfect together.”

“True.” Florence and Astor were like a couple of lovebirds. They'd been married for a while, but you would have thought they were still stuck in the honeymoon phase.

I didn't go over there all that much. Personally, I could admit I had my own selfish reasons for it, too. Seeing them together hurt. It was like a punch in the gut, or the heart. Not because of Florence or anything, but because they had what I’d almost had.

The reminder was one I could do without.

“If they aren’t having problems, then tell me what’s going on,” I said, leaning forward. “Is she sick? She’s not using again, is she?”

“No.” Cane waved a hand dismissively. “She’s fine, okay? I was just asking.”

“Bullshit.” I glared at him, waiting for him to give it up, but he didn’t.

“Fine.” I lifted a hand for the waitress. “I’ll just drive out there and see—”

“No.” Cane caught my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. I was bigger than he was, but the months he’d spent at boot camp in training had added bulk to his frame. He pulled my hand down and shot a look around the room, as if he feared somebody was watching us. “You don’t have to go out there.”

“Then you better talk.”

He passed a hand over his face, muttering to himself. I didn’t quite make out any of the words, but I caught the drift well enough.

“Tell me what in the hell is going on.” I pulled my wallet out and fished out a few bills, tossing them down as I held his gaze. “Do it now, or I’m leaving.”

“Shit.” Cane dragged a hand back over the short, stubbly growth of his hair and shot me a dark look. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, then leaned forward. “Look…I, shit, I shouldn’t have said anything. And you can’t go losing your mind over this, okay? You can’t go barging in on them, either.”

“If she’s fine, if there aren’t problems with her and Astor, then it shouldn’t be a big deal if I go over there,” I pointed out.

“What the hell.” Elbows braced on the table, Cane stared down at his drink. “Why didn't I just keep my mouth shut?”

Since it was clear he was just talking to himself, I didn't say anything. I continued to wait. I’d wait him out, too. It would be quicker than making the drive to Florence’s place on the other side of town. I would be going over there, but I wanted to know what was going on first.

“Okay.” Cane blew out a breath and lifted his head, staring me down. “Here's the deal. I’ll tell you, but you can't go losing it again. You all but lost yourself, and it took us too long to get you level again. You hear me?”

“Me? What are you…?” The intense expression in his eyes had me falling silent before I even finished the question.

I had been reckless all my life, but there only one time I’d even come close to really losing myself. Plenty of times when I wouldn’t have cared if I had, but only one time when I’d come so close.

My heart started to pound in slow, heavy beats.

The blood roared in my ears.

The water I’d been sipping became a lifeline as I clutched at the glass. I gripped it so hard, it was a miracle it didn't shatter.

“Tell me.”

Cane smoothed a hand back over his hair once more, then he met my gaze.

“It’s Maya. She’s back and she has one hell of a story to tell.”

I only heard one word.

Maya.