“No.”

I had no idea if I was saying it out loud or just in my head, but it echoed, over and over, pounding in a rhythm almost as fast as my hammering pulse.

“No. No. No.”

Footsteps pounded up behind me and from the corner of my eye, I saw Glenn, but I couldn’t worry about him.

Why was this happening?

Why was I even here?

I was too late.

I knew it.

Even as I wheeled around the corner that led to her dressing room, I knew I’d be too late.

A few people paced worriedly back and forth in front of her room, and I realized that Helen had been worried, too, but she hadn’t gone to security for fear of getting Florence in trouble.

She should have just gone.

But I couldn’t get angry at her, could I? Not when it was all my fault.

Without slowing down, I dug around in the loose pocket of my skirt for keys and managed to get them out as I ran. Skidding to a stop, I fumbled for the right one and jammed it into the lock. Florence had given me a spare set, laughingly saying I might just save her life, because she was always misplacing hers.

Please, please, please…

I wanted to cry, but didn’t dare let myself.

Flinging the door open, I rushed inside.

But two steps in, I froze.

The little door to her private area was open.

I could see a faint light glowing from the dark area.

Hurrying closer, I peered down inside. But I could only see the immediate area. The panic inside me was making it hard to think, but I shoved it back by sheer force of will as I swung my legs over and descended.

The moment I turned, I saw her.

And I knew I was too late.

Florence lay on her bed, head turned my way. A bottle of pills lay empty on the floor next to her, and on the small nightstand stood a nearly empty bottle of booze—whiskey, I guessed, judging from the color.

Despair settled in.

I’m too late…

As that voice started to wail in misery, though, something else took hold. Stop whining. You’re here for a reason, dammit. Now move.

I didn’t even feel like myself as I rushed forward. If I looked up and saw some puppet master controlling me, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

I found myself bending over Florence, touching her. Her skin was still warm. A bit of relief started to creep in. I touched her neck—there was a pulse. It was weak, but I could feel it. And her breathing…it was normal, wasn’t it?

If she’d just taken the pills, maybe, just maybe, there was a chance.

I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to me. Without letting myself think about what I was doing, I pushed my fingers into her mouth. I didn’t know what else to do.

There were better ways to get somebody to throw up, I knew that. I’d taken first aid courses, and I knew the basics. This wasn’t how I was supposed to do it. But it wasn’t like I had all the modern conveniences at my beck and call.

Somebody appeared at my side. I shot a look up and saw Glenn. “Call 9-1-1!”

“What…?” He stared at me blankly, then looked at Florence.

It hit me then, what I’d said. “She’s overdosed. She needs an ambulance.” They had those in the sixties, right?

“I think it might be too late,” he said grimly.

The thick, wet saliva clinging to my fingers as I pulled my hand out was testament to that, but I wasn’t going to give up. I tried again.

“What are you doing?” He tried to grab my arm.

“She needs to throw up. Get all of that poison out of her system.”

I pushed harder.

Her throat closed around my fingers and she gagged, but nothing came up.

Glenn stepped forward and hauled her up, wrapping his arms around her middle, much like the Heimlich maneuver I’d learned, only his hands were placed lower. He pulled up and in, rapidly.

A weak moan escaped Florence.

He did it again.

She started to heave and then she began to puke.

The acrid stink of vomit and alcohol filled the air. I breathed out a sigh of relief and closed my eyes.

As Glenn eased her down, he held her carefully, gently, brushing her hair from her face with trembling fingers. Her face was slack, but she was breathing. Judging by the contents on the floor, her body hadn’t had time to digest everything she’d taken.

I never thought I’d be so happy to see somebody getting sick.

“We’ve called an ambulance.”

I looked up from the doorway to see Helen hovering. I nodded and looked back at Florence.

The violent retching had stopped. Glenn picked her up and gently laid her on the bed. Her eyes were still closed, and I went closer. As I did, he sat back.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be here,” I said quietly. I felt almost sick saying it because he’d been the one to finally get her to purge herself.

But he was also the reason she’d tried to kill herself.

* * *

The hospital was cold and bright and cheerless.

If I had to be in a place like this, I thought I just might cry.

Right now, Florence lay listlessly in the bed, staring at nothing. The doctors thought she’d be okay—physically.

They were less than optimistic about her emotional well-being, although they hadn’t used words as kind as that. I’d wanted to throw them out on their white-coated asses, but if I’d done that, then nobody would have been here watching over her.

“Why did you save me?” she whispered.

I went to her side and sat on the edge of the bed.

“You’re my friend. What else was I going to do?” I said. I took her hand and she looked up at me, watching me with morose eyes. “Florence, no man is worth ending your life over.”

Tears flooded her eyes. “It’s not just him. It’s…everything. Maya, it’s all too much. I just can’t do it.”

“You can.” I struggled to remember some of the things I’d heard or read about people with depression. “You’re not alone, you know. I get that you feel that way, that nobody understands and that nobody cares, but that’s not true.”

“You can’t know that.”

I brushed her hair back from her face. “If nobody cared, I wouldn’t be here.”

It was the truth too. I hadn’t just done all of this because I felt it was some crazy calling—I wanted her to live. Seeing her lying so pale, so close to death had all but destroyed something in me.

A tremulous smile curled her lips, then her lashes fluttered down. “I’m tired, Maya. Be here when I wake up?”

She was already asleep before I could answer, which was good.

I hoped I’d be here.

I had no idea what would happen next. I hadn’t managed to keep her and Glenn together, but she hadn’t died in her dressing room either. History had changed.

Now what?

* * *

The day was gone.

Sunset was coming, and the miserable narrow window provided a brief look at the burning red.

Florence had drifted in and out through the day and now she was awake, trying to eat the meal they’d put in front of her.

When I heard a noise at the door, I immediately rose. I’d thrown several gawking people out, and I was ready to do it again.

Once I saw the visitor, I was definitely ready to throw him out.

Glenn stood there, face tired and worn, eyes surprisingly somber.

“Hello.”

A fork clattered against a tray, and I looked back to see that Florence had paled once more.

“You need to leave,” I said in a low voice, stepping closer to him.

The heat of his body instantly scorched mine, and my knees felt a little weak. Even after all that had happened, the scent of him went straight to my head. I didn’t let any of it show, not even when his intense eyes dropped to mine and he shook his head.

“No. I need to be here. Step aside, please.”

“I…” I couldn’t deny my surprise at how firm he sounded. Not simply arrogant, but purposeful. Still. Squaring my shoulders, I glared at him. “No. You need to leave.”

“I’m not leaving.” He edged past me, and my body went on red alert as his chest brushed against my arm.

Hard. Hot. Male. Muscle.

This wasn’t fair, my body wailed. And damn if every part of me knew it, heart, mind, and soul.

As Glenn approached, Florence pushed her tray of food away and turned her face to the bleeding red of the sunset. Her throat worked as she swallowed, and her cheeks were bright pink. I wanted to hug her so hard.

“Florence,” Glenn said gently.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. I’d never heard her voice sound so lifeless.

“I was worried.” He hooked a hand around the chair that I had been using and dragged it closer, sitting down.

She still wouldn’t look at him.

I held my breath, feeling like I was intruding, but there was no way I could look away, no chance I could leave.

Florence slid a look at him from the corner of her eye, as if she couldn’t dare to look at him head on. “You were worried.” She laughed.

It wasn’t long before the sound broke and hitched, turning into a sob.

I straightened to go to her, but she picked up a handkerchief she’d been keeping by the bed and dabbed at her eyes, calming herself enough to speak again. “Why were you worried, Glenn? What does it even matter to you?’

I flinched at the bitterness in her words.

But Glenn reached out and took her free hand, folding it in his. “Florence, just because I’m not in love with you doesn’t mean I don’t care for you. Can’t we at least be friends?”

She slid another slow look at him before resuming her pensive study of the sunset. “I’m not much good as a friend, Glenn.”

“I think Maya would say otherwise. She’s not here because she has nothing else to do, you know. She’s here because she cares. That’s why I’m here too.”

It was so quiet, I could hear the audible intake of her breath before Florence slowly turned her head to study Glenn.

“Why?”

He seemed to understand the question.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He kissed the back of her hand. “You’re funny and you’re sweet. You care about people, not just about getting ahead. That counts for quite a bit in this world.”

“It’s not so hard to care about people.” But there was a faint smile on her lips. It faded quickly though. “I’ve messed up so bad, Glenn. What am I going to do?”

“You haven’t messed up any worse than some of the rest of us.” He was quiet a moment, then he asked, “You need to get help. You know that, right?”

Her cheeks flushed. “I don’t want to go see some head shrinker, Glenn.”

“Nobody does. But you’ve got some things that are bothering you, and they aren’t going to get any better until you see somebody about it. Let me help you. I want you to get better.”

* * *

After Glenn left I returned to the seat he’d been using and waited for her to look at me.

It didn’t take long.

Her gaze was still tired and sad, but not so lost and empty.

“You didn’t have to do what you did, Maya.” She reached for the glass of water and took a sip, then put it down and picked up the napkin, folding it. I watched her as she made sure her napkin had a neat little crease down the middle. Once satisfied, she put it down and aligned her silverware on it.

“What did you think I was going to do? Just let you…” I couldn’t bring myself to say it. Thinking about that close call still made me cold all over. “I know what it’s like to try to run from everything in your life, to have it feel like you’re falling apart inside and so is everything else. But the way to fix it is to face it. Not hide from it.”

“I guess I’m not going to have much choice now.” She gave me a weak smile. “I promised Glenn. Besides, it’s not like I have anything else to do. I’m sure Kurt is going to fire me now.”

“Kurt is an asshole.”

She laughed, and the sound was brighter, happier than I’d heard from her in a while.

In that moment, I thought that maybe things would be okay.

For Florence, at least.