“I refuse to take them.” He’d been too afraid he’d become dependent. He knew if he went down that rabbit hole, he might never get out.

“Then, how do you get enough rest?”

“I sleep for a few hours around four or five in the morning. If that’s not enough, I occasionally fall asleep watching the news before dinner.”

“Maybe I’ll have to adopt your schedule,” she said. “During the day, it doesn’t seem as though I can get out of bed. But at night, I wander through the house obsessing about everything.”

He could only imagine how long the nights must be for her. She didn’t even have work to distract her. “If you’re going to adopt my schedule, you need something to keep you busy during the dark, lonely hours.”

She finally turned to where he could see all of her face. “I’m an actress. What am I going to do?”

He’d been right in assuming she wasn’t wearing any bandages. That was so brave he couldn’t help being proud of her. He considered mentioning that as proof that she was more resilient than she realized.

But he doubted she cared to talk about that. And she didn’t know him very well, so it might seem like an odd statement to say he was proud of her. Figuring it would be easier if he just didn’t say anything, he returned his attention to his plate. “Tomorrow you can go running with me. The exercise would be good for you.”

She obviously hadn’t expected that answer. “Did you say running?”

“Yes. As in jogging, working out.”

“How often do you do that?”

“Today was the first time in a long while.” She wasn’t the only one whose life had spun out of control. He needed to let go of the past, too, and plot his own journey forward. If meeting her had done anything for him, it had made him take a long, hard look at himself. He couldn’t tell someone else how to get beyond tragedy if he couldn’t overcome it himself.

Eager for her to taste the omelet he’d made, he glanced over to see if she’d started in, but she’d put down her fork and knife. “You run in the cold?” she asked. “It’s freezing outside.”

“Not if you’re working out hard enough.” After the first mile, he’d had to tie his jacket around his waist. And he’d been dripping with sweat by the time he was done.

“I’m not going to be running that hard,” she said.

“Then, you can bring a sweatshirt.”

She reclaimed her fork. “No way.”

“You won’t bring a sweatshirt?”

“I’m not going running.”

“Why not?”

“Because someone might see me.”

“You can’t let that stop you.”

“Yes, I can.”

“It’d be really good for you.”