The past few months had been a nightmare of hospitals and doctors, suffering and grief. He needed comfort, and a gentle, gentle push back into life. He needed her.

She trooped up theunshoveled walk, stomped her feet. She didnt knock. Shed never needed to knock on this door.

“Jordan!” She pulled off her cap, raked her fingers through her hair. Shed worn it shorter then, a chopped-off experiment she hated, and willed, daily, to grow back.

She called him again as she unzipped her coat.

The house still smelled of Mrs. Hawke, she noted. Not of the lemon wax shed always used on the furniture, or the coffee shed habitually had on the stove. But of her sickness. Dana wished she could fling open the windows and whisk the worst of the sorrow and grief away.

He came to the top of the stairs. Her heart did a tumble in her chest, as it always did when she saw him. He was so handsome, so tall and straight, and just a little dangerous around the eyes and mouth.

“I thought youd be at the garage, but when I called Pete said you werent coming in today.”

“No, Im not going in.”

His voice sounded rusty, as if hed just gotten up. But it was already two in the afternoon. There were shadows in his eyes, shadows under them, and they broke her heart.

She came to the foot of the stairs, shot him a quick smile. “Why dont you put on a coat? The Dobson kids tried to ambush me on the way over. We can kick their little asses.”

“Ive got stuff to do, Dana.”

“More important than burying theDobsons in a hail of snowballs?”

“Yeah. I have to finish packing.” “Packing?” She didnt feel alarm, not then, only confusion. “Youre going somewhere?”

“New York.” He turned and walked away. “New York?” Still there was no alarm. Now there was a thrill, and she bounded up the stairs after him with excitement at her heels. “Is it about your book? Did you hear from that agent?”

She rushed into his bedroom, threw herself on his back. “You heard from the agent, and you didnt tell me? We have to celebrate. We have to do something insane. What did he say?”

“Hes interested, thats all.”

“Of course hes interested. Jordan, this is wonderful. Youre going up to have a meeting with him? A meeting with a New York literary agent!” She let out a crow of delight, then noticed the two suitcases, the duffel, the packing crate.

Slowly, with that first trickle of alarm, she slid off his back. “Youre taking an awful lot of stuff for a meeting.”

“Im moving to New York.” He didnt turn to her, but tossed another sweater, a pair of jeans into one of the open suitcases.

“I dont understand.”

“I put the house up for sale yesterday. They probably wont be able to turn it until spring. Guy at the flea markets going to take most of the furniture and whatever else there is.”

“Youre selling the house.” When her legs went weak, she sank onto the side of the bed. “But, Jordan, you live here.”

“Not anymore.”

“But… you cant just pack up and go to New York. I know you talked about moving there eventually, but—”

“Im done here. Theres nothing for me here.”

It was like having a fist punched into her heart. “How can you say that? How can you say theres nothing for you here? I know, Jordan, I know how hard it was for you to lose your mother. I know youre still grieving. This isnt the time for you to make this kind of a decision.”

“Its already made.” He glanced in her direction, but his eyes never met hers. “Ive got a few more things to deal with, then Im gone. Im leaving in the morning.”

“Just like that?” Pride pushed her back on her feet. “Were you planning on letting me in on it, or were you just going to send me a postcard when you got there?”

He looked at her now, but she couldnt see into his eyes, couldnt see through the shield hed thrown up between them. “I was going to come by later tonight and see you, and Flynn.”

“Thats very considerate.”

He raked his “fingers through his hair, a gesture she knew reflected impatience or frustration. ”Look, Dana, this is something I have to do.“

“No, this is something you want to do, because youre done with this place now. And everyone in it.”

She had to keep her voice low, very low. Or it would shrill. Or scream. “That would include me. So I guess the past couple of years havent meant a damn thing.”

“Thats bullshit, and you know it.” He slapped one suitcase closed, fastened it. “I care about you, I always did. Im doing what I need to do—what I want to do. Either way it comes to the same thing. I cant write here. I cant fucking think here. And I have to write. Ive got a chance to make something of myself, and Im taking it. So would you.”

“Yeah, youre making something of yourself. A selfish bastard. Youve been planning this, stringing me along while you planned to dump me when it was most convenient for you.”

“This isnt about you, this is about me getting out of this fucking house, out of this goddamn town.” He rounded on her, and the shield cracked enough for her to see fury. “This is about me not busting my ass every goddamn day working in a grease pit just to pay the bills, then trying to carve out a few hours to write. This is about my life.”

“I thought I was part of your life.”

“Christ,” He dragged a hand through his hair again before yanking open a drawer for more clothes.

He couldnt be bothered to stop packing, she thought, not even when he was breaking her heart.

“You are part of my life. You, Flynn, Brad. How the hell does me moving to New York change that?”

“As far as I know you havent been sleeping with Flynn and Brad.”

“I cant bury myself in the Valley because you and I had thehots for each other.”

“You son of a bitch.” She could feel herself beginning to shake, and the stinging tears gathering in her throat. Using all her strength, she channeled the hurt into rage. “You can make it cheap. You can make yourself cheap. But you wont make me cheap.”

He stopped now, stopped packing and turned to look at her with regret, and what might have been pity. “Dana. I didnt mean it that way.”

“Dont.” She slapped his hand away when he reached ...

Youre done with the Valley? Youre done with me? Fine, thats fine, because Im done with you. Youll be lucky to last a month in New York, hacking away at that crap you write. So when you come crawling back here, dont call me. Dont speak to me. Because youre right about one thing, Hawke—theres nothing for you here anymore.“

She shoved past him and fled.

Shed forgotten her hat, she realized as she watched herself run out of the house. A snowball winged by one of the Dobson boyssplatted in the middle of her back, but she didnt notice.

She didnt feel the cold, or the tears streaming down her face.

She felt nothing. Hed made her nothing.

How could she have forgotten? How could she have forgiven?

She didnt see then, nor did she see now, that hed stood in the narrow window of the dormer and watched her go.

SHE woke to thin autumn sunlight, her cheeks wet, her skin chilled.

The grief was so real, so fresh, she rolled away, curled up in a ball and prayed for it to pass.

She couldnt, wouldnt, go through this again. Had she worked so hard to get over him, to push herself out of the grief and misery and hurt only to lay herself open to it all again?

Was she that weak, that stupid?

Maybe she was, when it came to Jordan. Maybe she was just that weak and stupid. But she didnt have to be.

She eased out of bed and left him sleeping. She pulled on a robe, a kind of armor, then headed to the kitchen for coffee.

Moe scrambled up from the foot of the bed and bounded after her. With his leash between his teeth, he danced in place in the kitchen.

“Not yet, Moe.” She bent to bury her face in his fur. “Im not up to it yet.”

Sensing trouble, he whined, then dropped the leash to lick her face. “Youre a good dog, arent you? Been chasing rabbits, huh? Thats okay, Ive been chasing something, too. Neither one of us is ever going to catch it.”

She drank the coffee where she stood, and was pouring a second cup when she heard Jordans footsteps.

Hed pulled on his clothes, but still looked sleepily rumpled. He grunted when Moes paws hit his chest, and managed to nip the coffee mug out of Danas hand. He drank deep.

“Thanks.” He handed it back, then stooped to pick up Moes leash. The act had Moe running around them in desperate circles.

“Want me to take him out?”

“Yes. You can take him back to Flynns.”

“Sure. Want to go for a run before breakfast?” he said to Moe as he clipped on the leash. “Yeah, you bet.”

“I dont want you to come back here.”

“Hmm?” He glanced up, saw her face. “What did you say?”

“I dont want you to come back here. Not this morning, not ever.”

“Down, Moe.” Something in the quiet tone had the dog obeying. “Did I sleep through an argument, or… Kane,” he said and gripped Danas arm. “What did he do?”

“It has nothing to do with him. Its about me this time. I made a mistake letting you back in. Im correcting it.”

“What the hell brought this on? Last night—”

“We have great sex.” She shrugged, sipped her coffee. “Thats not enough for me. Or maybe its too much for me. Either way it doesnt work. You ripped me to pieces once.”

“Dana, let me—”

“No, thats just it.” She stepped back from him. “I wont let you, not again. Ive got a good life, all in all. It satisfies me. I dont want you in it. I dont want you here, Jordan. I cant have you here. So Im telling you to go while there are no hard feelings. Im telling you while we still have some chance of being friends.”

She moved past him quickly. “Im going to shower. Dont be here when I come out.”

HE was still in a daze when he walked into Flynns. Was this what shed felt like? he wondered. Was this what hed done to her? Had he left her feeling hollowed out and numb?

And what happened when the numbness passed? Was it pain, or anger, or both?

He wanted the anger. Christ, he wanted to find his anger.

Trailing the leash that Jordan forgot to unclip, Moe dashed back toward the kitchen, and Flynns cheerful greeting followed the sound of thumps.

“A boy and his dog.” Malory jogged down the stairs, morning fresh in khakis and a navy sweatshirt. “Youre back early this morning,” she began, “or Im running behind.” Then she stopped, stared at him. “What is it? Whats wrong?” A bubble of fear came into her voice. “Dana—”

“No, nothing. Shes fine.”

“But youre not. Come on. Lets go sit down.”

“No, I need to—”

“Sit down,” she repeated, and taking his arm, pulled him toward the kitchen.

Flynn was at the card table, a temporary measure in the evolving kitchen. The walls had been painted a strong teal blue that set off the golden wood of the new cabinets. The floor was stripped down in preparation for the hardwood Malory had selected. A piece of plywood sat on a stretch of base cabinets as a makeshift countertop.

Flynn was eating cereal, and from the guilty look on both his and his dogs faces, hed been sharing it with Moe.

“Hey, whats up? You want food, youve got about fifteen minutes before the crew gets here.”

“Sit down, Jordan. Ill get you some coffee.”

Flynn studied his friends face. “Whats the deal? You and Dana have a fight?”

“No, no fight. She just told me to go.”

“Go where?”

“Flynn.” Malory set a mug of coffee in front of Jordan and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Can you possibly be that dense?”

“Well, Jesus, give me a minute to catch up. If you werent fighting, why did she kick you out?”

“Because she didnt want me there.” “So you just left?” Flynn tossed out. “Without finding out what pissed her off?”

“She wasnt mad. If shed been mad I couldve handled her. Handled it. She just looked… tired, and sad. And finished.” He rubbed his hands over his face,. So it wasnt going to be anger after all, he realized. It was just pain.

“Whatever she felt, Jordan, whatevers behind it, you have to find out.” Malory gave his shoulder a quick shake. “Doesnt she mean anything to you?”

He shot her a look storming with emotions, and with a sigh she moved in to wrap her arms around him. “All right, then,” she murmured. “All right.”

“She means enough,” he managed, “that Im not going to put that look on her face again. She wants me gone, Ill go.”