Marco had told me his place was a dump. He’d told me that because if he’d taken me to his flat he would have had to hide the photographs of Dylan that hung on the walls. He would have had to hide the toy box in the corner of the room, and the action figures set up by the French window that overlooked the gardens.

But he couldn’t hide the second bedroom that I had no doubt was decorated for a little boy.

Leaving me to shrug out of my coat and take a seat on his black leather sofa, Marco marched determinedly into the kitchen and started brewing me a cup of tea. My face was frozen from the winter wind, but the chill that ran deep through the rest of my body was from having to watch a fifteen-year-old be buried on a day bright with winter sun and dark with bitter confusion.

“It’s not fair,” I murmured. “And I have to move past that. You’d go crazy, wouldn’t you? If you obsessed over the unfairness of it all?”

Marco poured hot water from the kettle into two mugs and then lifted his gaze to me. “It’s times like these it’s better to accept it and move on. But, yeah. It isn’t fair.” He moved back to me with the mugs, handed me one and then sat down close to me. His gorgeous eyes held sympathy and concern. “I’m sorry, Hannah. I know he was a good kid.”

I clutched the mug tightly in both hands, allowing the heat to seep into me. “Was it Ellie that told you about Jarrod?”

“Cole, actually.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I would have lost that bet.”

Marco settled his left hip into the back of the sofa, sliding his arm along it until his fingertips were close enough to touch my shoulder. “My question is, why didn’t you tell me?”

Perhaps it was too much to have this conversation after Jarrod’s funeral, but I knew it was time. Marco was here. He had come to me when I needed him without me even having to ask.

“I hate that it took the death of one of my kids to wake me the hell up,” I muttered angrily, not flinching from meeting his gaze even though I felt almost ashamed by my choices these last few months. Strike that. These last few years. “I thought if I could just get through this alone, then I could come to you after.”

His brows drew together. “Hannah, you broke up with me because I left you alone to deal with a miscarriage that almost cost you your life. Now you’re telling me you want me to leave you alone to deal with the shitty things that happen? I’m confused.”

“No. I thought I could and should do this alone, that it wasn’t fair to want to lean on you, but as soon as you were there I knew I needed you.” I swallowed hard and admitted, “And I’ll always need you.”

I watched as he leaned over to put his mug on the coffee table and when he faced me, his eyes were blazing. “Are you for real? Because I don’t know if I can take you turning away from me again.”

“The miscarriage… I don’t know how to explain what it did to me. The worst thing that ever happened to me before it was Ellie’s tumor. When we didn’t know if it was cancer or not, and even the time in the hospital and how scary it was to see her like that… I was thirteen and suddenly I realized we didn’t live forever. Of course I knew people died and I’d known people who’d lost family, but I’d never experienced loss for myself before. And then there was Ellie, a huge part of my life, a huge part of what made me happy, and there was a possibility that we were going to lose her. One of the worst parts of it all was seeing what it did to Mum and Dad. It was like they could barely breathe until they knew she was going to be okay.”

I felt my chest compress as the memories flooded me. “When I started to feel ill after you left all those years ago, I tried to explain it away to myself because there was this dark part of me, buried deep down, that was scared there was something really wrong with me like there had been for Ellie, and that I was going to put everyone through it all over again. That fear almost cost me my life. And yet… I didn’t learn my lesson. I put these blinders on, facing the world on my own as if that somehow makes up for the fact that underneath my bullshit I’m utterly petrified. I didn’t mean to hurt you because of that. I am…” I shook my head, knowing an apology wasn’t enough but giving one anyway. “I’m sorry. But I can promise I won’t ever do that you again. Ever.”

He made a move toward me as if he was going to touch me. I held my hand up to stop him.

“Before you say anything, you need to know something.”

Marco grew still but gave a stiff little nod for me to continue.

I took a shuddering breath for the coming revelation. “I wish I was stronger. I wish I was Hannah before the miscarriage, but I lost a huge piece of her after it happened. Especially the part of her that went after what she wanted no matter the consequences. I want kids, I need you to know that, but if we get back together and somewhere down the road you wanted kids, I don’t know if I could actually give you that.” I couldn’t read his expression. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m frightened to try to get pregnant, and I can’t promise I’ll ever get over that.”

His hands were suddenly on me, pulling me close until our noses almost touched. “Do you love me?” he asked hoarsely, giving me a little shake.

I laughed softly at the question, the answer so obvious – to me at least. Reaching a hand up, I ran the backs of my knuckles along his cheek, feeling the possessive thrill I always felt when I was near him. Because buried under all my crap was the utter belief I had deep in my bones that this man belonged to me. “What I said before was true. I’ve been in love with you since I was fourteen.”

His grip tightened. “Then that’s all that matters to me. We’ll take the future as it comes. There’s no promise that life will ever be easy. It never has been for me. But the moments where all that shit disappeared, where it ceased to matter to me, those moments always had you in them. I know you make me laugh, I know you make me feel worth something, you make me feel needed, and I know I want you like I’ve never wanted any other woman in my life. All that makes sense.

“I’ve never been able to explain what it is about you that makes all the bad go away. I don’t need that to make sense, though. I don’t know why it is that way. All I need to know is that you do, you always have. I’m in love with you. There is no one else for me and I don’t know how I know, but I do know that there never will be. So” – he cupped my face in his hands, drawing me closer – “we’ll deal with tomorrow, tomorrow.”

After he pressed a soft kiss to my lips, he hugged me to his side and we sat there for a while as he comforted me in silence.

Finally I said softly, reflectively, “It changes you. Loss.”

I felt his arm tighten around me. “It changed you, babe. But not as much as you think.”

“Still, it’s always there. Do you think that’s okay?”

“In what way is it always there?”

I took a moment, trying to think of the best way to explain it. “When you haven’t experienced loss directly, it’s like… well, you drive the same road home you drive each night. You know it as well as anyone can. Then one night you decide for the hell of it to drive a different road home. You think nothing of it. It’s merely a change of scenery.

“But if you’re someone who has lost someone or come close to losing yourself… and if you take that different road, there’s this second after you’ve made that decision, just a second, in which you wonder, worry, if taking that road means changing your life irreparably – you don’t know the curves in the road as well, you don’t know the blind spots. In that second you imagine a crash, a collision. Just a second, until you tell yourself to stop being so morbid. Yet no matter how silly it makes you feel, every time you make a decision to take that different road, you can’t help that instant of questioning if your choice will end in loss.”

He was quiet as he processed my words, and then his lips were in my hair, his whisper a promise. “Life’s fragile, Hannah. You know that and that’s what those seconds are a product of. You’re allowed to have those seconds, just as long as they don’t mean you ever shut me out.”

Relieved that he understood, I closed my eyes and held on tighter, giving him a silent promise in return.

That night I slept next to Marco in his bed for the first time. He held me close, keeping me warm and safe through my sadness.

I was just drifting to sleep when I heard Jarrod’s voice in my head, a memory from weeks before.

“Just saying. Nice to know a big guy like that is watching your back.”

From his voice came peace.

CHAPTER 28

“I’ll get your short essays back to you next week,” I promised my literacy class as they all began packing up for the evening.

“Have a nice weekend, Hannah,” Duncan said, throwing me a kind smile as he headed out the door.

The others followed his lead. They’d been somewhat subdued this week and I had a feeling they knew the reason why I hadn’t been there to teach them last Thursday.

I was packing up my own things when to my surprise Lorraine made her way over to me. Trying to mask my disbelief at her willingly approaching me, I stilled, waiting for her to say something.

She shifted a little uneasily. “I, eh… I heard aboot the wee laddie fae yer class. Sorry tae hear it.”

I blinked rapidly at the unexpected condolence. “Thank you.”

“Aye, well, ye seem like ye probably give a shit, so, I imagine it hus’nae been easy fur ye.”

I nodded in silent agreement, honestly not knowing what to say.