I was going to do this for him.

“Sure,” I said after he had stopped babbling.

“Sure,” he repeated.

“That’s what I said.”

“I’m going to put that damn word on a T-shirt,” he muttered.

“Would you rather me say no?” I taunted.

“You said sure. That word is binding. Might as well write it in blood.”

“I’d rather not,” I remarked drolly. “So I’m going to meet the family, huh? I guess it’s better to show off the crazy early on. Get it over with.”

“I hate it when you do that,” he said softly.

Adam’s mouth was doing something strange. Was he laughing? No way! Yep. It totally looked like he was laughing. And Krista was laughing. I needed to get in there and see what fresh brand of nuts was going on!

“When I do what?” I asked, climbing out of my car and closing the door, making sure to lock it.

“When you put yourself down. Why do you do that? You’re not crazy, Corin. Not even a little bit.”

I stopped staring at my friend and employee and listened to the man filling my ears with his heartfelt assurances. You’re not crazy was so much better than You’re so pretty.

How was it that this man saw the absolute best in me so easily? I should ask him if his meds impaired his judgment at all.

But I knew they didn’t. This is just what he thought.

About me.

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I loved him.

It danced there, ready to burst out.

It was too much. Too soon.

But it was the truth.

I loved him.

“You’re actually pretty damn awesome. So if you say one more bad thing about Corin Thompson, you’re going to have to deal with me. Got it?”

“Got it,” I whispered, my throat tight.

Damn it.

I did love him.

To the depths of my crazy, crazy heart.

Dad’s small, deteriorating body in that hospital bed. The pain in my chest when I thought I was having a heart attack.

The ache in my joints that I was sure was fibromyalgia.

The possible cancer. The almost aneurism. The diseases and pain that were a continual part of my life.

Could I be happy?

Was that even possible for someone like me?

“Good. I’ll see you this evening. Call me if you need me. You know I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

A heartbeat.

What if something happened to him like Mom? Like Dad?

What if something happened to me?

Now that I’ve found him.

What if I lost him?

“Okay. I’ll see you later.” I was having a hard time speaking. He brought out such intense emotions in me.

It swept away everything else.

I ended the phone call just as I came into the studio. Krista was finished playing boob tag with Adam and was now straightening the new inventory on the shelves.

Adam was nowhere to be seen.

“Good morning!” I called out. Krista waved.

“Where’s Adam?” I asked, putting my purse and coat behind the counter.

“I think he went into the storeroom. He didn’t really say,” Krista said, eyes wide.

“Okay. Thanks. Is everything ready for the preschool group?”

“Yep. Just need to get out some more red paint,” Krista answered, sounding a little nervous. Did she share Adam’s kid phobia?

“Sounds great. I’ll go and find Adam.”

I walked into the storeroom and found him pulling boxes of supplies off the shelf.

“Hey. There you are.”

“Didn’t realize you were looking,” he replied gruffly.

“Whatcha doin’?”

Adam dropped a box on the floor and the top popped open. He started pulling out bundles of rags that we used for cleanup.

“Learning Spanish,” he huffed, and I smirked.

“So, is the preschool group the only thing we have booked today?”

Adam shoved the box back on the shelf, rolled the rags into a ball, and tucked them under his arm. “Should be. But it would be nice if you looked at the schedule once in a while.”

He swept by me and out of the storeroom and I was left standing there gaping after him.

What had crawled up his ass?

I followed him into the office. “Did I do something to piss you off?” I didn’t like confrontation. I tended to avoid it at all costs. It had become a survival technique growing up around Tamsin.

Adam’s shoulders were tense as he shoved the rags into a cabinet we kept in the corner for supplies. “How long have we known each other?” he asked suddenly.

“Is that a trick question?”

Adam turned to look at me and there was something in his eyes that I had never seen before.

“I’ve tried to be there for you. After your dad. With all your nutso health stuff. I’ve covered the shop every time you need to take a ‘sick day.’ I don’t complain. I don’t tell you that you’re a whack job. I let you do what you need to do. You know why?”

Should I get mad because he just called me a whack job? Or do I freak out at the sudden intensity in his eyes that pinned me in place?

“Because you’re my friend?” I squeaked.

“Damn straight. Because I care about you. But even I have my limits, Cor.”

“Uh, I was pretty sure that you barely tolerated me,” I said, folding my arms across my chest. Then I unfolded them and put my hands in my pockets. Then I took them out and let them dangle awkwardly by my sides.

Why can’t I figure out what to do with my hands?

“I know I can be dickish. I don’t do the whole tell-me-about-your-feelings thing. But that doesn’t mean I don’t give a shit. And it also means I can tell you when you’re slacking on your end of the deal here. I’m carrying this store, Corin. And I’m sort of sick of it.”

My bottom lip started to tremble and I knew I was about to start blubbering. I could deal with Tamsin’s criticism. I could handle when people looked at me like I was a pyscho after one of my panic attacks.

But Adam’s reproach hit me hard.

Mostly because he never, ever gave it.

“Hold on, don’t do that. Shit, Cor, I didn’t want to make you cry. I don’t do tears. I’m allergic, remember?”

He came over and put his arm around me and I almost shoved him. He never and I mean never hugged me. His idea of comfort involved tossing my bag of pretzels at me and maybe handing me a tissue.

“You and I have been friends for a long time, but do you know why I even spoke to you that day in the courtyard when you were sitting there like a drowned rat, crying into your coat sleeve?”

This conversation was jumping around too fast for me to keep up with.

“Um. No.” Drowned rat? Really?

“You know that my parents are divorced but what you don’t know is that they split up the night before I gave you that gum in the courtyard.”

“I didn’t realize that.”

And I didn’t. I knew Adam’s parents had gotten divorced our senior year but he never talked about it. He never talked about anything.

That had always worked for both of us.

Or at least I thought. Maybe it hadn’t been working for Adam as much as I had thought.

“That day you lost your shit at school and I saw you sitting there, your face covered with snot—”

“It was not covered with snot!”

Adam pursed his lips. “Like I was saying, you were covered in snot, and I saw someone who was having a worse day than I was. And you know what? It made me feel a little less alone.”

“I was not covered in snot,” I grumbled again.

“Enough about the snot. Do you get what I’m trying to say here?” he asked.

“I’m your friend. I’m here if you need me. But suck it up, Cor. I know you have some shit going on in that messed-up head of yours. I know that losing your parents fucked with you royally. But I need your head in the game. I need you here. I’ve got stuff I’d like to talk to you about once in a while. So you think you can check the narcissistic woe-is-me act and be a friend?”

“What stuff do you need to talk about?” I latched on instantly to that thread of information.