But as she went through the rest of her day, doubt began to creep in like a tiny insect. Danny had always liked women, and women liked him right back. And now he’d be far from the girl who’d annoyed him for half his life and with none of the softness and urgency of the physical fire between them.

Long-distance relationships were tough to begin with, and she was trying to have one with a sexy young sports star who had a legion of admirers. Many of whom would be more than happy to jump in his bed.

“What’s gotten into you today?” her coach asked when she jogged back after zipping past him a few seconds earlier. “You’re putting in stellar times.” He patted her on the shoulder, the two of them having been together so long that he was like an uncle to her—a stern and tough-talking uncle who never let her get away with any crap.

“Just in the zone,” she said with a grin that hid the panic beneath.

The panic enraged her. She’d made it a point to never let any man get into her head. Never again would she allow someone else’s thoughtlessness to destroy her days and her life. How dare Danny do this to her?

“Catie, you’re sounding insane even to yourself,” she muttered as she put in an hour on the weights that evening. She’d already done enough for the day, but she was antsy and this would take the edge off. “Danny’s still in the air, and he’s not responsible for your clingy dependence.”

She closed her eyes even as she muttered those last words. She knew she wasn’t clingy or dependent, could actually be independent to a stupid fault. But her father’s throwaway words haunted her. Clive wasn’t evil or abusive or mean. He was just… thoughtless.

All those times he’d said, “You’ll be fine, doll. You don’t need to be dependent on your dad.” Or when he’d smiled and patted her on the cheek. “Men don’t like women who cling, kiddo.”

She hadn’t even been a teenager at the time! And her crime had been wanting her dad to show up to one or two of her school athletics meets or even to a parent-teacher conference. She’d have taken anything. Of course it was Ísa who’d come. Always Ísa. Catie’s one rock in life.

Having laid off the weights before she did herself an injury, she was in her pajamas when her doorbell rang at nine that night. The timing and the fact security had buzzed up the person meant it could only be a neighbor—or one of a very short list of people she’d cleared for automatic access.