Page 126 of Halo

Leah’s expression changes. “Would’ve been?”

My palms idly rub together. “She had a pretty severe case of congenital condition called Edwards syndrome. We knew about it before she was born.” I swallow, but the ache in my throat only gets worse. “She lived for a few hours.”

“Oh, Nick.” Leah rests her hand on my arm. “I’m so sorry—”

“No.” I pull my hand away and get to my feet, putting several feet between us before I turn back. “Don’t be sorry for me. I don’t deserve your sympathy, Leah. I don't deserve kindness or condolences or anything positive or good.”

Her eyebrows pinch together. “Why—” her words soften—“why would you say that?”

“Because I was a fucking coward. Because I walked away. Because I couldn't just … watch her die.” My voice catches, and I drag a hand over my face. “She came into this world and left it without ever knowing what it felt like to have her daddy hold her.” A broken chuckle slips out as I blink hard against the tears. “I’m a proud man, Leah, but there’s no pride in that. I’ll regret it until the day I die.”

Leah doesn’t say anything. She catches the cuff of her sweater between her fingers, worrying the fabric back and forth.

“I never went to her grave until last year.” I chuff. “Twelve fucking years, Leah. I knew exactly where she was, and I couldn’t make myself go.”

Leah shifts on the bed, drawing one knee a little closer to her chest. With her attention fixed on me, she keeps listening.

“Now I go all the time … but sometimes I wonder if I’m even doing that for her.” I shake my head. “Maybe I go because standing there and talking to her makes the consequences of what I did feel a little less heavy. Like if I show up enough now, it makes up for being a shitty person.”

“You’re not a shitty person—”

“Then what am I, Leah? Huh?”

“A man who made a terrible mistake. And you also lost a baby.” Our eyes meet. “Do you hear yourself? You have so much guilt that you won't even allow yourself to be human and grieve.” A subtle grin touches her lips. “You are actively giving up your peace at the chance to make it right.” She lifts a shoulder. “Sounds quite loving to me.”

I cross the room and take a seat next to her on the bed. “I just want to make it better somehow.”

“Maybe you already are. It just looks different than what you're expecting.” Leah shifts closer. “You’re a wonderful dad to Grady, Nick. The way you love that little boy honors Madison.”

But is it enough?

Fuck. I press my palms together and stare at the floor, trying to breathe past the knot in my throat.

Leah’s palm moves slowly over my back before she rests her chin on my shoulder.

I turn my head enough to see her. “You ready to bolt yet?”

She gives a small shake of her head. “I know this changed you, Nick. I can see that.” Her hand drifts to my arm. “You aren’t that man anymore.”

I hook an arm around her waist and pull her into my lap, needing her closer. She comes willingly, curling against my chest, and I bury my face against her hair.

After a quiet minute, she asks, “Do you still talk to Madison’s mother?”

A sharp, humorless laugh leaves me. “Well, that brings us to reason number two of why I’m a terrible person.” I lean back. “It’s Tatum.”

Her head snaps up. “You had a baby with Dr. Erikson?”

“Damn. Judgmental much?”

She laughs. “Stop! I’m not judging. I thought she and Dr. Ramsdale were medical school sweethearts.”

I groan. “Ugh. Let me tell you a story.”

Chapter 31

Nick

My diagnostic medicine professor once set an apple on his desk and told us to write down ten observations.