I pulled up next to an apartment building and we stepped out into the snow. JD took my suitcase—it wasn’t heavy but I knew it was useless to argue—and led the way upstairs. He unlocked the door and I got my first look at where he’d been staying,

I felt my chest close up. Oh, JD!

The bed was stripped, the blankets folded and piled up neatly at one end. Everything was spotlessly clean but there were no photos, no personal effects…nothing.

This wasn’t a home. This was accommodation, army style. I’d hoped Colorado would have given him a fresh start but he wasn’t building a life here in Mount Mercy. The job was keeping him going but it was obvious that he hadn’t moved on, hadn’t healed.

“You want something to eat?” asked JD. “I got some, uh…” He opened the refrigerator and I winced. All that was inside was a neat stack of microwave meals. Fuel, not food. He probably would have lived off army ration packs if he could. “Maybe we should go get a pizza,” he muttered.

“JD,” I said quietly.

He turned and saw my expression. He knew what I was going to say because I’d said it before: that he needed to talk about losing them, that he needed to rebuild his life and find somebody new. Before I could even speak, he cut me off with a curt shake of his head. He was being the stoic tough guy, just like our pop.

But I wasn’t giving up. He’d done so much for me: practically raised me, helped pay for college. Now he needed my help. “JD, I think you need to talk about—”

He fixed me with a look and shook his head again. That’s when I saw the pain in his eyes. The pleading not to push it.

It was much worse than I’d thought. The loss was an open wound inside him, still leaking poison. He did need help. But it wasn’t just that he didn’t want to talk about it. He couldn’t talk about it. What he needed was to meet someone, someone who’d help him open up and heal and build a new life. It was so unfair: JD was the kindest, most loyal guy I’d ever known and he had a heart the size of Texas. Plus, he was drop-dead gorgeous, with those big blue eyes. There were a million women out there who’d love to meet him. But as long as he was hurting like this, he’d just keep pushing them all away.

JD looked away, scowling, and I knew he was beating himself up for being weak—as in, actually having feelings. I loved my pop but sometimes I hated him for raising JD this way.