Was she trying to destroy him? Her hair was loose around her shoulders today, and still could catch the light like wildfire. She had something glossy on her lips but no other makeup. There was a Band-Aid on a knuckle and a silver ring on her thumb but not her ring finger, and she sat there like some complicated mix of mischievous girl and sexy, earthy woman.

His brain didn’t know what to do, but his body seemed to. And yet it felt odd to look at her, the one bright spot in his shitty childhood, the only reason he’d ever made it through high school, the first woman who’d ever held a piece of his heart.

And then broken it.

Jesus. If that wasn’t a mood wrecker, then the fact that she was looking good enough to lap up like a bowl of cream should do it. Lusting after her was apparently never going to change, which made his gut clench hard. “Just tell me why you’re here.”

“Is seeing me that bad?”

“I have a meeting in ten minutes, and my chief is breathing down my neck about it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She stood up. “Do you still do those breathing exercises I once showed you for releasing stress? Because maybe I can—”

“Summer.”

She let out a soft laugh. “Right.” She nodded, looking as if she felt a little foolish. “We’re not exactly still in each other’s back pocket, are we?” She backed to the door, that incredibly arousing belly ring glinting. But that wasn’t what got to him.

Her deeply troubled expression did.

Damn it. Damn her. “Summer—”

“Look, I get it. You’re busy.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I didn’t mean to intrude.” She reached for the door handle.

“Stop. Red—”

At the use of her old nickname, she glanced back, startled.

“I have a minute,” he admitted.

“Or ten.” She smiled but it faded quickly. “Okay, listen, I’m sorry for the interruption, but it’s my mom. She’s not doing well. The fire really got to her, you know?”

“I can imagine.”

“She asked me for help.” She sounded bowled over by that. “Me.” She lifted her hands. “I’m going to handle all the paperwork for her.”

“There’s going to be a lot,” he warned.

“Yeah.”

There was something deeply disconcerting in her tone. He alone knew the phantoms she must face being back in O.B., and he wondered how long she’d be able to handle being here at all. “You’re unhappy to be back.”

He hadn’t meant to say anything personal, and she looked just as surprised as he that he had. “I guess I am,” she admitted, and paced the length of the room. “I’d rather be on a mountain. On a river. Anywhere else, really.”

“Why?”