After a few long moments when I mentally beg her to come back and laugh with me again so I don’t feel so all alone, her gaze turns toward my face. I smile at her, thinking for a moment that maybe Hazel could overcome this. She’s the strongest person I know. She could kick cancer’s ass without even trying.

Then, she touches my face. “Ryder, baby.”

It’s like someone let the air out of the room. Savannah’s jaw drops just an inch, and I can see the pity in her stare. I can’t move for a long moment as I look into Hazel’s eyes.

“Get some sleep, Hazel,” I say as I pat her arm. She relaxes easily against the pillows, and Savannah covers her with care. She’s gentle with Hazel, and when she turns toward me in the doorway, the moisture against her lashes glints in the light of the room just before I cut them off.

“Goodnight,” she whispers toward the woman. Before she can even shut the door, I’m already down the hallway and shutting the door to my room.

Murph disappears so quickly into his room that I don’t get one second to talk to him about what just happened with Hazel. It must have been a knife to the heart for him. His love for that woman is so obvious, and he looks like the kind of guy who doesn’t express love well or often.

I’m standing outside his door, my flannel pjs too long and covering my toes on the worn wood floor as I hover my fist over the wood of the door, contemplating whether or not I should knock.

After that tryst in the doorway, it’s become very clear that Murph and I have a physical attraction. It doesn’t do much to solve the problem of his attitude or personality, but I still think I could easily sink my teeth into him and come out on the other side feeling exactly the same emotionally. He’s one more roadblock on my journey to freedom. So what if we sleep together? I’m not falling in love with him. And I’m certainly not planning a future around the possibility of a relationship. No way.

“I see your shadow under the door,” he mumbles from inside the room. My heart nearly races out of my chest. He must think I’m a stalker, some crazy lady ready to pounce on him in the middle of the night.

Gently, I turn the handle and peek in, only slightly hoping he’ll be half-dressed in his bed.

But he’s not. He’s sitting in the single chair in the corner of the room. The lights are off except for one small lamp on the nightstand, creating a very intimate glow between us. For the first time I get a look at the space. It’s definitely a man’s room, minimal decorations with the scent of cologne in the air. I want to crawl into that bed with its thick black comforter. I imagine him sleeping in it, and it makes my stomach tighten.