Chances were, that birthday party was the last time she’d ever been a kid or done something frivolous for herself. He squeezed her hard. “I’m feeling very grateful for your grandpa.”

That got him a small smile. “Me too.”

“And no wonder you hate birthday celebrations.”

She snorted. “No, I hate birthday celebrations because it reminds me that another year’s passed without any headway.”

“Toward what?”

She bit her lower lip.

“Is this about your secret and secret secret lists?” he asked.

“Some,” she admitted. “But now it’s your turn.”

Right. He nodded. Then he said the words that never failed to beat the shit out of him. “The car accident that killed Rowan? I was driving.”

She sucked in a breath. Still clutching his hand in hers, she brought it up to her heart. “Were you badly hurt?”

That her first words were worry for him told him everything he needed to know—she was far too good for him. “Not even a little bit,” he said, hearing the bitterness in his voice.

“Oh, Cam.” And with that, she crawled into his lap and hugged him so tight he couldn’t breathe. Or resist hugging her back. Then she set her head on his shoulder and did one of his favorite things. She let him be with his own thoughts. It was a rare beat of desperately needed quiet, and in that moment she was able to do for him what swimming the lake twice over hadn’t done.

Give him some badly needed peace.

PIPER FELT WHEN some of the terrible tension inside Cam drained a little. Not enough to suit her, though. He couldn’t walk around this way, she thought. It’d kill him.

That she often did the same thing didn’t matter.

He was hurting, and she was someone who at her core wanted, needed, to heal people. She was still on his lap. His arms were loosely around her, her head on his shoulder, his jaw pressed against her hair. She drew a deep breath. “Growing up, there were so many times I wanted to strangle Gavin and/or Winnie. But the truth is, if something had actually happened to one of them . . .” She broke off when her voice cracked and had to clear her throat. “In hindsight, I think those were the moments where love showed the most, because they were the only people who could get beneath my skin and into my heart.”

Cam slid a big, warm hand up her back and into her hair, wrapping it around his fist to tug lightly so he could see her face. “Has anyone else ever gotten beneath your skin?”

Their gazes were locked. No place to hide. “Not since my parents died.”

He nodded, as if she’d simply verified what he’d already suspected, that she’d turned off her heart from further hurt, and she’d been very successful at it.