We find a spot behind one of the low bookshelves, and when the band starts playing, Candace leans into me—her way of saying thank you. I wrap my arm around her and pull her into me. I’m so proud of her for stepping out of her comfort zone tonight.

We listen to a few songs, and when we finish our beers, Candace and I go to grab another round.

“You having fun?” I ask as we wait for our drinks.

With a slight grin, she says, “I am. Thanks for this.”

The bartender hands over the bottles and we begin to walk back over to Mark. Ryan is with him, and Candace nearly chokes on her beer. I can tell they recognize each other by the looks on both of their faces.

“You again,” she says to Ryan and he doesn’t speak. He watches her with the strangest look, but snaps out of it when Mark asks, “You two know each other?”

“Not really,” he says as he finally breaks his stare.

“He’s come into Common Grounds a couple times to get coffee. How do you guys know each other?” she asks Mark.

“He owns Blur, where the band has been playing lately.”

“And the guy who gave me the tickets,” I add. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem at all.”

Candace turns to listen to the band while Mark and Ryan make plans to go shoot pool next week. After a while, I grab Candace and the four of us find a table to sit down. I listen to her as she starts to talk to Ryan, and I can’t help notice the way he is staring at her. Ryan normally ignores women; he definitely never looks at them like he’s looking at her. I glance over at Mark to see if he’s seeing it too and when I do, Candace places her hand on my thigh under the table. I look at her while she’s listening to Ryan talk, and I can tell that she’s panicking. I hold her hand and give it a light squeeze, reassuring her that she’s fine.

I’m sure that having Ryan here is maybe pushing her a bit more than she’s comfortable with. But I want to push her, and knowing that Ryan is a pretty trustworthy guy, I back off a little and go sit next to Mark, leaving the two of them to chat.

I lean into him while Ryan and Candace talk and say, “Are you seeing the way he’s looking at her?”

“Who?”

“Ryan,” I say a little irritated at his distraction.

He looks over and then back at me. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying that much attention, but the fact that he’s talking to her is unusual for him.”

We both turn our heads to look at them, and then Mark, being nosey, butts in. “What are you two talking about?”

“New York City,” Ryan says as Candace excuses herself to go listen to the next song.

When I get up to follow her, Mark and Ryan do too. I stand beside her as she leans her elbows on the bookcase, and Ryan comes to stand on the opposite side, leaning down next to her. I watch her turn her head and stare at him. Candace never showed any interest in guys before what happened to her, and ever since, she’s been so closed off to everything. I’m taken aback when I see her looking at him the way that she is.

Wanting to push her, I lean over and say, “Mark and I will be right back.”

She eyes me with curiosity, asking, “Where are you going?”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll be back in a second.” I kiss the side of her head and then grab Mark’s arm, leading him over to the bar.

“What’s going on with you?” he asks.

“Look at her,” I say as I nod my head toward Candace from across the room. “She’s never looked at a guy like that before.”

“Really?”

“She’s always been closed off, even before what happened,” I tell him.

“You think we should tell her about Ryan?”

Turning my head to look at Mark, I ask, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, but it’s Candace, and Ryan is known for screwing around with anything that walks past him.”

“That’s what Gavin says, but I’ve only seen him with one chick.”

“Still.”

Stepping in front of him, I say, “I really like Ryan despite what we’ve heard. Don’t forget, I did my fair share of that crap too before I met you, but this guy seems pretty straightforward and honest. At least that’s the impression I get. I just want her to start living again.”

“I know you do. Come on. Let’s go back before she gets mad at you for ditching her.”

When we walk back over to the two of them, Candace seems on edge, and I can tell something has switched inside of her because she wants to leave immediately.

Telling Ryan bye, Candace rushes out the door, and Mark and I follow closely behind. We all get into the car, and when Candace slides into the back seat, I turn and ask, “What was that all about?”

“You tell me. Where the hell did you two run off to?”

Shit. She’s clearly upset, but I go with honesty and say, “Just thought you two should talk without Mark and me around.”

Shaking her head in annoyance, she asks, “Why?”

“Just got that feeling. You two kept staring at each other with that look.”

“And what look would that be?”

“Candace, the guy is hot. You know what look he’s talking about,” Mark adds.

Slouching back in the seat, she says with a defeated sigh, “Doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” I ask, but she avoids looking at me.

Ignoring me, I can see her chin quivering, but I want her to talk to me.

“Candace?” I say, trying to get her to focus.

“It just doesn’t matter, Jase. It’s wrong,” she says as she stares out the window.

“It’s not wrong for you to find someone attractive.”

“Yes, it is.”

I hate that she feels this way, and I know Mark does too. He turns off into an empty parking lot, parks the car, and gets out. When he opens Candace’s door, he slides in next to her and firmly says. “Stop punishing yourself.”

Before she can deny his words, he says it again. “Stop punishing yourself.”

Shifting in my seat to look back at her, I tell her, “Nobody says that you can’t enjoy life. You can. You should. You just won’t allow yourself.”

“How can I feel like that after what happened? It feels wrong.”

“It’s not wrong,” Mark says. “You need to let yourself feel happiness and not run away from every good feeling that comes over you.”

“It doesn’t feel right.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because . . . it makes me feel cheap—dirty.” Fuck, I hate that son of a bitch for leaving her so broken that this is how she feels about herself.

“You aren’t either of those things, not even close,” Mark tells her. “What happened doesn’t make you cheap or dirty or whatever else you’re thinking. It happened, and you have been punishing yourself ever since.”

“He’s right,” I add. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. You can’t keep taking this wound and ripping it further open beyond repair. You have to try and leave it be, and allow it to heal.”

“I don’t know,” she says and I can tell she’s about to cry, so I drop it and change the subject.

“I’m proud of you,” I tell her “I honestly didn’t think you would come out with us tonight. Thought you might back out.” I give her a smile and she leans forward, between the seats, and gives me a hug.

“I’m glad I came,” she whispers in my ear.

Mark gives her a kiss and then gets back behind the wheel. When we get to her house I offer to come in, but she assures me that she’s fine. Once, she’s inside, I grab Mark’s hand and admit, “I hate this.”

Looking over at me, he asks, “Hate what?”

“The way she feels about herself. It pisses me off because it’s so messed up.”

“I know, but it makes sense that she would think that way, as crazy as it sounds,” he says as he drives us back to my place.

“I just want her to be happy.”

Mark squeezes my hand. “I know you do. She will be. It just might not be for a while.”

Lying down in bed, Mark rolls on his side and says, “I don’t want to pressure you, but Thanksgiving is in a few weeks. I just was wondering where your head is at with it all.”