“Why am I doing this?” My voice sounds panicked, the pitch rising higher than usual as I turn to face Brantley.

She steps toward me as we stand in my foyer beside the front door. “Because, sweetie. You haven’t left this house, other than to come to the studio or go to the grocery store, since you woke up from that coma. I know that you’re in pain. And I know that you’re still missing them with every fiber of your being. But you didn’t die in that accident, Arden. And I don’t think either Trenton or Danté would want you to live like you did.”

Her words punch me in the gut, and my eyes fill with burning tears. I close my eyes against them, trying to protect myself from the harsh truth of her statement. I suck in a deep, rattling breath.

“Open your eyes, Ards,” she insists.

I do, and she continues. “I like how you are when Flash is around. You laugh, Ards. I haven’t seen you laugh in so long. And you run with him instead of running alone. We’re doing this tonight because you deserve to have some fun for a change. Okay?”

I nod, her hands still pressing against my now-wet cheeks. “Fun.”

Fun. Do I even know what that is anymore? Do I even want to have fun?

For a long time, the answer to that question was a resounding no. I didn’t want to feel anything at all. But when I’m around Flash, something inside me seems to loosen, shift. I’m not as rigidly tied to my sadness as I am every other minute of every other day.

When we’re running, or when he’s sitting at the counter in the studio drinking a cup of coffee, or at a table with Nitro at his feet, learning to read Braille on his laptop, I’m tempted to release my tight grip on the only thing that’s keeping me tethered to the here and now.

My grief.

If I let go of that, I’ll be letting go of them.

And I’ll never be able to do that.

“I’m not promising fun.” There’s reluctance in my voice, but I can’t deny the fact that there’s a spark of hope and anticipation in my heart at the thought of seeing Flash tonight. We haven’t been running all week, because I’ve been avoiding him.

When he brought up trick-or-treating and the emotions welled up inside of me that I had trouble controlling, I ran scared. I could just tell him; I know I could. Flash would listen, and he’d probably even understand a part of my pain. He’s lost people in his life. He’s lost something utterly important to his daily function: his vision. But something holds me back.

To me, Danté and Trenton are like a private secret buried deep inside. And if I open that box and let them out, they might be gone forever. If I share them, I feel like I’d be betraying their memory somehow. I don’t know how to get past that.

When he came in the following day and invited Brantley and me over for dinner and a movie on Halloween, like nothing had happened between us the day before, I was at a loss for words. And, of course, I told him I couldn’t. Immediately after the refusal, he asked what else I was doing that night. When he heard my silence and assumed, correctly, that I had absolutely nothing else going on, he warned me that he’d be back every day to ask me until I said yes.

Just like when he wanted me to run with him.

Apparently, when Flash Jackson decides he wants something, he doesn’t take no for an answer. It’s a personality trait I find both fascinating and maddening.

A few minutes later, Brantley and I are strolling up the stone walkway leading to Flash’s front door. I glance around me in admiration. He lives in a neighborhood not far from the coastal side of Savannah, and the fresh, salty breeze coming in off the ocean tickles our noses as we stand on the porch. The house is low and long, with plenty of lush greenery lining the front yard. Palmettos are the featured plant, and I can tell from the size of the house and the grandness of the others in the neighborhood that Flash has some wealth to his name.

The money doesn’t matter to me at all, but it surprises me because he doesn’t carry himself like a man who has everything at his fingertips. I learned that he has a military background during one of our runs, and I find myself wondering how he acquired his obvious financial security. There’s more to Flash than I’ve figured out, and I remember with a start that getting to know someone is like peeling back the plentiful layers of an onion, and it’s an activity I used to enjoy.

Before.

There’s a six-pack of beer hanging from both Brantley and my hands. When the door opens and Flash’s large body looms in the doorway before us, I suck in a sharp breath as I take him in.

I’m used to seeing him in running clothes, and now he’s dressed distinctly different from that norm. He’s wearing dark jeans that hug his obviously muscular legs. His flat stomach and broad chest are covered in a black Henley sweater that he’s shoved up to his elbows. His forearms, darkly tanned, are scattered with dark hair and my eyes stray from one point on his body to the next, drinking him in without even realizing I’m doing it.  Down by his side, Nitro gives a friendly chuff.

My stomach flutters, and I clench it tightly to keep the butterflies in check. I shut my eyes tightly and ask myself what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.

“Hello, ladies,” Flash greets us with one of his half-grins. “Glad you found it okay.”

I say nothing, and my feet don’t seem to want to move, even though he’s shifted aside to let us into the house.

Brantley elbows me in the side, and I jerk back to life. “Um, yeah. You actually don’t live too far from me. It was only a ten-minute drive to get here.”

“Awesome,” he answers. He gestures once we’re inside the long front hallway, down toward where I can see the wall of windows at the back of the house. “Come on in, and welcome.”

He holds out his hands to us and waits expectantly. Brantley looks confused, but I just smile and place my six-pack in the hand that isn’t holding Nitro’s harness leash.

Brantley holds onto hers, but curiosity forces her to ask the question. “How’d you know we brought something?”

Flash grins. “Because you’re Southern women. And Southern women always bring shit to a party.”

Without thinking, I slap Flash lightly on the arm. “That’s sexist.”

He lifts a brow behind his sunglasses. “Sexist but true?”

Brantley giggles as we follow Flash down the hallway and enter a large, open great room with hugely tall ceilings.  Light-colored wood runs in beams across the vaulted top, and the wide-plank hardwood floors are the same color. The décor is casual but not of the bachelor-pad variety, like I would have expected. It’s comfortable and welcoming. The large open great room is separated from the kitchen by the most enormous island I’ve ever seen, and I thought my own was pretty big. The steel countertop is crowded with platters of food.

Brantley places her beer beside the food, and we’re greeted by another man sitting on a barstool facing the great room.

He offers us a friendly smile. “Ladies.”

Flash comes up behind me. I don’t turn, but the hairs on my arms stand on end, simply because of his presence.

“Arden, Brantley…this is my brother, Axel. Axel…this is my running partner, Arden, and her friend, Brantley.” Flash’s hand rests gently against the small of my back as he introduces me to his brother.

The gesture shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s small and insignificant, something any guy would do when standing beside a woman he’s familiar with.

Flash isn’t just any guy, though, and I’m starting to realize, as my heartbeat picks up in my chest, that I’m not any woman, either. I wonder idly how he even knew exactly where to place his hand…is he now so attuned to me that he can find me, even in his permanent state of darkness?

And if so, why is that thought so…incredibly comforting and, at the same time, so utterly disconcerting?

Taking a subtle step to my right, ignoring the near-ache inside me at the loss of his palm on my back, I shake Axel’s outstretched hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Axel shakes my hand, and then Brantley’s. I notice with a tug of amusement that he holds Brantley’s a beat too long, and that her cheeks are pink when he drops it. When he tears his gaze from hers and focuses on me, there’s intense curiosity in his steely gray eyes.

Immediately, I’m distracted as my thoughts return to Flash. Are his eyes the same color as Axel’s? Will I ever know what his eyes look like?

“—Been wanting to meet this mysterious woman who’s got my brother running again.”

My eyes snap back to Axel’s when I realize he’s been speaking to me while I zoned out about the color of his brother’s eyes. Giving myself a strong mental kick, I paste on the smile I’ve learned to use since waking up from the coma. It’s easy and friendly, not inviting anyone closer, but making sure they don’t worry about me, or think I’m a complete psycho. Brantley calls it the “fake-it-till-you-make-it” smile.

“Oh, really? I was happy to help. And now that I’ve been running with him, I see why he needed to be doing it again. He’s a natural.” I glance at Flash, only to find that his gaze, which I can imagine is intent behind his glasses, is on me.

He tilts his head, the way he does sometimes when he’s listening to someone speak, and his mouth kicks up on one side in his devastating half-smile that brings a genuine one to my lips every time I see it.

Tonight seems different, somehow. I’ve never been anywhere other than in the studio or at the park when I see Flash. Here, in his home, and in such a relaxed and casual setting, I’m seeing him in a different light. And that smile, instead of making me grin, is now causing an alarming flutter of butterflies in my belly.

Hunger. I need food. And also, a beer. Stat.

The doorbell rings, and everyone in the kitchen freezes. Axel lifts an eyebrow at Flash, who hasn’t looked away from me.

“Trick-Or-Treaters are here,” Axel muses as he grabs a bowl off the counter, overflowing with candy. “I got this. Want to help me name costumes, Brantley?”

His offer is casual, but Brantley straightens, interest written all over her face. I’d chuckle if it weren’t so damn inconvenient. Of course she’s going to fall for Flash’s brother. Because that would just put me in Flash’s proximity even more often, and even this one little visit outside of our norm has me reeling.

Flash and I stand in silence as we hear Axel pull the door open. He and Brantley’s exclamations over the undoubtedly adorable costume display before them make my legs tremble.

I can’t do this. I should be at home…hiding from these emotions. Why did I come out tonight?

I swallow, closing my eyes as my knees knock together. My breathing increases and grows shallow, and I can feel the panic washing over me; an inescapable tidal wave of dread. Terror almost consumes me. I can’t do this...not here.

Not now.

Sounding much further away than they should, I hear more excited exultations and I know that more kids, dressed in cute costumes, are probably arriving on Flash’s front porch.

Kids who’re probably the same age as my Danté. Images of a tiny little Charlie Brown costume and an even cuter little blond boy smiling as he accepts handfuls of candy flip through my head.

Nausea rolls through me. Oh, God.

“Breathe, Arden.”

I hear his words, low and steady, a split second before his big hand wraps around the back of my neck. Flash’s forehead rests gently against mine, as his other hand covers my own.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can do this. Whatever this is, you’re strong enough to fight it. Breathe.”

His words are barely louder than a whisper, the normally smooth timbre of his voice rough.

I gasp for breath. “I—Flash, I need my pills.”

He shakes his head, and his voice is firm. “No. You can do this without them this time, Bunny. I know you can. Breathe with me.”

This is the point in a panic attack where I can’t see anything other than the memories, can’t wade through the agony of the losses I’ve endured. But right now, surrounded by all things Flash, the panic is slowly pushed away. I realize it when I attempt to match his breathing, and it works.

It’s his hands, one wrapped around my neck and his fingers intertwined with mine on the other. It’s his breath, brushing lightly across my face as he demonstrates the suddenly complicated art of breathing. It’s his voice, as it chases away the pain holding my heart in its vise grip.

His grasp on my nape loosens as I keep my eyes glued to his face, and the aroma of him fills my nose. Spice mixed with ocean, and just a hint of wind. That’s Flash’s scent, and I know I’ll never associate it with anything other than safety from this moment on.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers, his breaths mingling with mine.

The front door slams shut, and I hear both Brantley and Axel chuckling as they head back toward the great room. Flash doesn’t seem in any sort of hurry to let go of me, and there’s a twinge of regret as I step away from him.

“Thank you,” I whisper before turning to face the bar.

As soon as she enters the room, Brantley’s beside me, whispering in my ear. “You okay?”

Nodding, I think back to seconds ago, when I was trapped in Flash’s grip. I needed him in that moment, and he was there for me.

This is just the beginning. Next week…I don’t know how I’m going to get through it. And then the holidays…

Almost like he can hear my thoughts, Flash cuts off Axel as he starts talking about the kids and their costumes.

“How about we break into that beer you girls brought?”

I nod, grateful. “I could use a beer. We brought the new October ale from the brewery here in Savannah. That okay with you guys?”

Axel laughs, lifting a thick brow. His hair is the same color as Flash’s, but he’s let his grow out longer. “We’re guys. And it’s beer. I think we’re good with it.”

Brantley and I exchange an eye roll, and we all dive into the food and fix plates. Just like that, everything is normal again.

I glance at Flash as we all settle into comfortable spots in the living room with our plates and our beers, and I find myself wondering.

When I agreed to help him with his running, I did it because I thought I was helping him. As reluctant as I was to get involved with anyone’s life, or get to know anyone new, the prospect of helping someone who needed it was appealing at the time.

Now, as I gaze at him sitting on his couch, with Nitro at his feet and his brother by his side, I wonder when, exactly, that turned around. When did Flash start helping me?