But no, that’s what you did for a high school dance or a wedding, not a Valentine’s Ball.

At least, she hoped she was right.

At noon she ate lunch at her desk in the staff room, and was still picking at her half sandwich when she got a text from Troy.

All good? he texted.

Yes, she answered. You?

Great. Just wanted to be sure you weren’t getting cold feet.

She laughed. No cold feet, she texted back. See you tonight. Hanging up, she put away the rest of her lunch and returned to work.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, with Taylor keeping an eye on the time since she was leaving work early to get her hair done for tonight.

Fifteen minutes before her hair appointment, Taylor grabbed her purse, coat, and said goodnight to Louise and Margaret and was heading for the door when she spotted a tall lanky body perched on the edge of the wooden bench in the drafty library foyer.

His coat was open. His dark blond hair mussed. She knew who he was immediately.

Doug.

Her heart fell. It was bad. Terrible. He’d broken one of the rules of his probation, leaving Hogue Ranch without permission.

Taylor hadn’t even been able to speak. She just looked at him sitting on the bench, his head bent, his thin body angled forward, hands braced against his knees.

She sat down next to him. “Doug,” she whispered, unable to think of anything to say. All those months at Hogue…all that time…

He didn’t say a word. He just reached out and took her hand. Held it tightly.

His hand was icy cold and his fingers wrapped around hers, holding her hand snugly, desperately. She felt his pain. Felt his anger and pain and desperation.

He was in trouble. Not just trouble with Hogue, or the law, but trouble emotionally, psychologically.

“It’s okay,” she said.

He shook his head. His shoulders heaved. He made a rough sound deep in his chest. He was crying. Or trying not to cry. Either way, it broke her heart.

She wrapped an arm around his waist, hugged him, feeling the crisp frost on his coat. He was chilled through.

“What happened?” she asked.

He wouldn’t look at her. He turned his head so she couldn’t see his face. “Can’t live like this. Can’t continue like this.”

For a second she couldn’t breathe. “The depression’s back?”

“It never goes.”

“Then we don’t have you on the right medicine.”

“I’ve been telling everyone that, but no one listens.”

“I’m listening.”

“It’s too late. They’ll arrest me now for leaving the ranch.”

“But if you needed help, medical help—”

“It doesn’t matter.” He ran his hand beneath his eyes. “Doesn’t change me.