He walks past me, grabbing his jeans and shirt. Dropping the towel, he pulls them on without any underwear.

“Sy, talk to me,” I plead, watching him pick up his boots and cut.

“You shouldn’t have seen that,” he says, walking to me.

“Don’t leave,” I try again, wishing he wouldn’t shut me out.

“I’ve got to go.” He snatches his wallet from my hands and leaves me standing here, finally understanding him.

PAST

Sy

“Daddy, you need to be strong for Momma. She’s not brave like you.” Keira’s last coherent request plays over in my mind as her frail body loses its life in my arms. When I made that promise two days ago, I didn’t know that I would be faced with the realization that maybe I wasn’t as brave as my daughter thought I was. Maybe I needed someone to be brave for me.

“Sylas, we should take her in.” Katie’s broken voice startles me as I come back to the moment.

“No, she would want to be here,” I reply as I continue to sway on the wooden porch swing that Keira loves. This was her favorite place in the house, and if my baby girl leaves us tonight, she will be here.

“Sy,” Katie tries again, but I don’t want to hear what she says. I want to play over every conversation I’ve had with Keira this week. I want to memorize her beautiful face one last time before it’s too late. I want to hear the rattle in her chest for as long as she allows it, even if I know she’s in pain. And even though it kills me to admit it, I want to ask her to fight for just a little longer.

“Daddy,” Keira wheezes. It’s barely a whisper and something inside of me knows it’s going to be her last word. Her chest rises in a slow inhale as she struggles to drag air into her lungs and the rattle of the mucus that sits on her chest slowly fades.

“Let go, baby girl. I've got you,” I whisper, knowing what I want is selfish and not what she needs. It's time. I have to let her go.

“Sylas, I can’t watch this. I can’t sit here and watch her die,” Katie sobs harder next to me as the minutes tick by and the sun goes to bed.

“You can and you will,” I tell her, but she doesn’t listen. Her body heaving in uncontrollable sobs, she stands and walks back inside, into the arms of her mother and father.

“Momma’s okay. She just needs a moment,” I whisper, rocking her closer to me as my world slowly tears apart. “I love you, baby girl,” I tell her one last time as a sob rips from the bottom of my stomach and roars through my chest as an awareness that I might not survive this settles over me.

In the next breath I take, Keira takes her last, and that soul shattering feeling that has lived with me for the last two years shakes me one final time as I feel her spirit leave her body. I don't let her go. I don't fight the tears. I just hold her to me, kiss her forehead and tell her I love her. It's not until the sun fully sets and darkness surrounds us that I know she's free. Under the light of the stars, in her favorite spot, I say goodbye.

My baby is free.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Holly

“Holly?” Sy’s voice hits the back of my neck, as his arm comes around me, pulling me closer to him. He came back.

“Sy?”

“I need you.” His voice almost breaks me. I wasn’t expecting him to come back tonight. When he left, he looked so lost that I was worried he wouldn’t find his way back to me.

“You have me, Sy. You have all of me,” I admit, feeling myself getting in deeper with this incredible man. He rolls his body over mine, covering it with his heavy weight as he leans into my space.

“No, I need you, Holly.” His desolation calls to me. I know we need to talk about a lot of things, but the fact he came back says more than words, so I give him what he needs. What we both need.

“Take me.” I give him my permission, letting his touch cancel out the ache in my soul. Our connection when we’re together leaves the pain behind. His hand trails down my side, taking my thigh and pushing my legs apart, settling between them. His touch is desperate, like the need to lose himself in me is driving him forward.

“I need to bury myself in you and not feel this anymore,” he whispers, slowly sliding his hard length into me. I don’t argue or fight it. I should tell him that he needs to use protection because we are being unsafe, but I don’t, because I’m lost in his need for me. The fear that I’ll lose this connection is so strong that I refuse to pull away. All I want is for us to get back to a few hours before, when death and heartache were buried deep.

“You make me forget, Holly. You came and eased the pain, and I don't want to lose this feeling,” he admits as my body accepts him. He starts off gently, stroking me to pleasure, but as he sinks further into me, his movements become rough and hard. Each thrust pushing me further into the deep end. My body has never known such pleasure, letting him come apart above me, revealing himself and what he needs.

But my heart has never felt such pain.

How am I going to tell him now?

“Fuck, Holly,” he groans, lost in his own bliss while I'm lost in my own lies. “Come, baby.” He bites down on the soft flesh of my breast, and like every time he commands it, I obey. Only this time, when I come apart, I’m surrounded in a cloud of unease and guilt—guilt for allowing him to bury his pain, and unease for letting this secret hold me as an emotional prisoner for so long. “That’s it, baby,” he groans, following me over. He stills his movements staying planted in me.