With wooden legs, I stand. They don’t notice, the three of them having too much fun chasing each other around my living room. Their laughter trails after me as I walk down the hall, into my bedroom, and finally my bathroom. This is the safest room for me to hide away and let the guilt of what my own fear has pressed upon my daughter.

I want to move past this. I know deep down that this is the unhealthiest way of living. I should move on. Jack is gone and there isn’t anything that can bring him back. Logically I know that, but mentally I don’t know if I can handle jumping over that last hurdle.

It really is time to move on.

Right there in my bathroom, I let the last of my grief over losing Jack bleed out. Knowing that I’ve been so wrong to stay locked tight for this long. But, just because I’ve accepted that, doesn’t mean it doesn’t kill me to let those last bits of fear start to leave my body.

I lean against the counter and focus my thoughts. Looking up at where the mirror used to be, I suddenly can’t keep it locked up anymore. But instead of tears, a manic hysterical bubble of laughter comes shooting out.

And then another.

Before I know what happened, seconds pass and I slide to my ass in the middle of my bathroom, hands held over my stomach as the cramps my laughter has caused sink in. Tears blur my vision, and a pain so blinding that makes my breath come in rushed gasps, rips through me.

That’s where Liam finds me, of course, the poster child of sanity rocking back and forth on her bathroom floor. If he had any doubts of my mental status before now, I’m sure they’re all confirmed now.

He doesn’t say a word and as the laughter turns to sobs, he shifts around me and lowers his body to the floor. His legs frame around my rocking body and his strong arms wrap around me tightly. His silence continues as he tightens his hold. He doesn’t speak, just lets me lose it in his arms. When I finally calm, he moves us both so that I’m sitting across his lap. His arms come back around me, one going around my middle and pulling me in close. His other arm comes up, hand moving to cradle my face and press me against his chest.

Turning my head, I take a deep choppy breath and let his scent fill my senses. That warm intoxicating blend of wooded pines and leather. All Liam. It fills my head and when I let the air back out, I feel a small sliver of control come back over me.

Almost as if his hold alone gave me some of his strength.

“Molly?”

“Nate’s got her, baby,” he mutters.

“I’m sorry,” I exhale.

“Far as I can tell Megan, that was a long time coming.”

“Yeah,” I confirm.

“Want to tell me what brought that on?”

I don’t want to, but after today—him giving me a day of carefree fun—I feel like I owe him something. Maybe, just maybe, if I let him in just a little he will understand why I’m absolutely no good for him.

“I’ve . . . I . . . God. I thought that if Molly just had me she would be safe.”

His arms jerk, but he doesn’t speak.

Pushing my head closer to his body, I take that strength, that safety that his body gives me, and continue, “I never wanted her to know what it feels like to miss someone. Know the pain that comes when part of you dies. That’s what Jack was, part of me, of us. She was too young to understand or feel that loss. I guess I’ve been living in a bubble. Keeping her wrapped tight with me so that we would never have to depend on someone else for our happiness.”

“Darlin’ you aren’t living.”

“We are,” I sigh, “We have each other. But yeah, we—no, I—haven’t been.”

“And how well is that going, Megan?”

I pull my head up and look at him, really look at him. His eyes hold no sympathy, just empathy. He isn’t judging me. As I look into his handsome face, all I see is his understanding, but also his searching gaze boring into my own as if he’s trying to communicate something without words.

He’s letting me lead.

And if the way his heart is racing against my body is any indication, his holding back right now is costing him.

“She needs this,” I confess.

“Yeah, baby, she does, but so do you.”

I nod my head and his eyes go soft. His hand moves from where it fell when I shifted to look at him and his other comes from between our bodies. His warm hands take my face and his reverent hold and the tender look in his eyes, causes me to close my eyes.

“Look at me, Megan.”

I shake my head.

“Darlin’,” he says as his breath dances across my lips. “You need to look at me.”