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well better make my life count for something.”
    Her imprisoned hand had gone as numb as her heart. “So you decided to become a doctor.”
    “Yeah. After the Army, I went to college. And it wasn’t until a couple of years ago, when my mom visited me at UT, and she told me she was leaving my old man, that I started going to a psychologist. At first I went with my mom, because she asked me to, but later, I kept going on my own. Anna, I had to be sure I wouldn’t turn into the kind of man my father is. Until then, I couldn’t even think of being in the kind of relationship that might turn into something real.”
    Her arm throbbed all the way to her elbow, and she could feel his pulse bounding against her wrist, hear the anguish in his voice.
    “But that wasn’t the only problem. Megan told me she loved me, and I couldn’t love her back—not when all I ever thought about was you. I believed Megan killed herself because of me, and Megan was strong. Anna you were so fragile. I couldn’t risk hurting you. Don’t you see that?”
    Actually she did. And that ought to have made everything better, only it didn’t. She’d always known Charlie had been running from his guilt about Megan’s suicide, no matter how misplaced that guilt had been. What she hadn’t ever truly understood was why he’d left town without a word to her, his best friend. And then, the very worst thing ever: Six years of radio silence .
    Now she understood. Now she had closure. Well closure was highly overrated. She didn’t feel better at all. In fact, she wanted to spit and scream and yes, she wanted to cry. But that wasn’t her style. She kept her voice soft, unrattled. “You think I’m fragile?”
    Looking down at her wrist he seemed to become aware of how tightly he gripped it and loosened his hold, but he didn’t let her go. “I thought you were fragile at the time, yes. Think about your childhood, Anna. You barely even spoke until you were twelve years old.”
    “And you think I whispered because I’m fragile?” Her voice became dangerously uncalm , and she wrenched her hand free from his grasp. “You don’t have any idea how hard that was for me.”
    The truth she’d never told anyone, not even her own sister, came rushing out. “I whispered because my old man told me that if I was quiet, if only I was a good little girl and didn’t make so much noise when Daddy had a headache, maybe my mommy would come back home. And I believed him. I poured him another drink, and then I shut my mouth. Even after Daddy took back everything he’d said, even after he dragged me to all those doctors and begged me to talk, I kept on whispering, because I wanted to believe I could make my mother come back home.”
    A harsh laugh shook through her. “I’m not fragile, Charlie. Not in the least. What other girl do you know who’d be strong enough to play the quiet game for five whole years?”
    Placing his hands on her shoulders, he drew her near. “I only wish I’d been as strong. I should’ve been there for you. You have every right to be angry, baby—with your mother, your father—with me .”
    “Angry?” Her throat closed around the word. Could it really be anger that fueled this hard heat inside her chest?
    Charlie lifted his fingers and traced her lips, the blue blaze in his eyes smoldering into deep pewter. His touch was a balm, softening her heart, and somehow all that bubbling anger she hadn’t owned before changed course, transforming itself into urgent, physical need. Suddenly, all she could feel was the white-hot ash of unfulfilled desire.
    A dull thud sounded in her ears, and she recognized it as the noise of her purse falling to the floor. As Charlie’s finger continued to scald a path across her lips, he opened his knees until his thigh touched hers. Her pulse rampaged all over her body. She’d wanted this man since the day she’d been old enough to recognize physical desire, and now, at least in this particular moment, he