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“I can’t do this.”

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Kirsten gulped, wiping the back of her wrist against her eyes. “I can’t lean on you.”

“You damn well can.” J.D. was right behind her, resting his arm around her shoulders, and she wrenched herself away.

“Not for long,” Kirsten protested. He obviously had no problem offering her a shoulder to cry on, but she couldn’t let herself take refuge in his arms. “I can’t go through that again.”

“What?”

“You leaving,” she whispered, not even caring about hiding the old wound.

“Kirsten—”

“I…I thought we had a…a future together,” she blurted out before realizing how idiotic that must sound. “I know it was stupid,” she continued. “You’d never said you wanted me—”

“My God,” J.D. interrupted, staring at her in disbelief. “I never wanted anybody like I wanted you.”

Home At Last

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