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“Guilty.”
    â€œWow,” he said. “You?”
    She looked into space, nodding. “Yep.”
    â€œWhat’s happened to you?”
    â€œI don’t know. I just know that I’m not ready for such a leap.” She reached for his hand. “You’re a kind man,” she said. “And I think it would be nice getting to know you better.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “But let’s not start by complicating the issue.”
    â€œI’m not exactly suggesting that we move in together. It was more of a spare-room offer.”
    â€œRight. I know how long that would last. One late night. The stress of work piles up. You need a break. I rub your back … well, you know the progression. And I’m not ready for that.”
    He stood up. “I don’t get it. The old Dr. Taylor would have cut right through the feelings to see that this is an efficient, practical solution to your problem. You need a place. I have a spare room. I’m a doctor. I can look after you while you recover. It’s perfect.”
    â€œPerfect, except it just doesn’t feel right.” She put her hand over her heart. “But the fact that you’re concerned about me is touching.”
    A knock at the door interrupted them. It was a nurse from the cath lab, a cheery woman in green scrubs and a white coat. “I’m here to take you for your biopsy.”
    â€œOh, joy,” Tori moaned, looking over at a man she wanted to love. “Gotta run.”
    The nurse assisted her into a wheelchair. As Tori was about to be wheeled into the hall, she motioned for Jarrod. When he leaned down, she whispered a question. “Fresh start?”
    He nodded. “Agreed.”
    In the angiography suite, Tori slid slowly onto the cold radiography table. She looked up into the face of her cardiologist, Dr. Eric Samuelson. “I don’t want any sedation.”
    â€œI’ll just slip you a little Versed. I want you to relax.”
    â€œNo!” She held up her hand. “Really, I don’t want to sleep.”
    Dr. Samuelson leaned forward and touched her hand, concern on his young face. “Tori, relax.”
    â€œIt’s just that being awake is better than sleep.”
    â€œAre you okay?”
    She shook her head. “Nightmares. Every time I doze off.” She hesitated, biting her lower lip to keep it from quivering. Her admission was tantamount to admitting weakness, something she’d never have done before her transplant. “Please.”
    A scrub nurse had set a sterile field up a few feet away. Now, as she pushed the table forward, she mumbled under her breath. “Not so mighty now, are we?”
    The cardiologist cast a stern glance in her direction.
    â€œIt’s all right,” Tori said. “I see my reputation precedes me.” She took a deep breath, trying to control emotions that threatened to take over. “Please just talk me through it.”
    Eric Samuelson nodded. “Sure.”
    She watched, alert.
    â€œI’m going to touch your upper thigh. Cold. It’s the prep solution.” A minute later, Tori found herself beneath a tent of sterile paper sheets. “You’ll feel a sting and burn in your groin. Numbing medicine,” he said mechanically. “You may feel a little pressure here.”
    The angiogram to image her heart caused fire to spread inside her from her chest downward.
    Fire. I remember a fire.
    That’s crazy. I’ve never been in a fire.
    Or have I? I’m just remembering my dream.
    â€œYour new heart looks great,” he said. “We’re going to do a biopsy. You shouldn’t feel a thing.”
    Tori fought back tears, not from the good news, but because the nightmares that haunted her nights had just crept into daylight.

6
    Dr. Parrish looked at Tori over half-glasses. “You’ll have to keep your leg straight for the next few hours. We don’t want to see