“I shut Emma out after that, consumed myself with work. When she filed for divorce, I was grateful. I wasn’t there for her, not that we were right to begin with—I see that now. We were pieces that fit off-kilter, and we spent years forcing them to fit anyway. I came home, hating myself. For letting Emma down. For failing my marriage. For losing her.”

“Did you name her?” I ask, and he glances at me for the first time since his story began.

“You’re crying?”

“Of course, I’m crying. It’s devastating.”

“Sara,” he says, his voice soft and weak. “After my grandmother.”

Tears flow down my cheeks in streams, his story breaking through the dam and all my backup defenses. “Grady, please. Pull over. Anywhere.”

“You okay?”

“I’m just… having a moment.”

He pulls into a church parking lot, empty and illuminated, and screeches to a stop, catty-corner to the lines. We get out and meet in front of The Beast.

“I’m so sorry for you, for Emma, for Sara,” I say through sloppy sobs that make me feel ten years old. Only, I can’t help it. “After the accident, I felt wrong for grieving. How can you miss something you never had? Or never felt sure you wanted? Still, my heart was broken over what could never be. But you had Sara. Felt her kick and grow, and bought things for her, and had visions of her childhood. I can’t imagine what you went through. Or how it still hurts.”

Tears slip from his eyes as he steps closer to me. My hands go to his rough cheeks while his circle my waist, grabbing onto me like he needs the support.

“But this is why you fought so hard for me, why you were there, time and time again, making sure I was okay. Why you needed to see me fall apart; you needed to fall apart, and you didn’t.”

“I went on like nothing had happened,” he confesses, eyes brimming with fresh tears. “When I saw you doing the same thing…”

“I fell apart at the hospital when it felt safe. With you there, I could. But not usually. That’s why I have my policy, Grady. No one wants to see my frowns, fears, and tears. Alone has always felt safest for me.”

“That’s not true anymore.”

“I know.” I grab his collar, pulling him closer. “I felt it that day, and every time since. Maybe that’s what we needed—to feel safe enough with someone to fall apart.”

He nods against me, sinking into my shoulder. “Thank you,” he breathes into my hair. “For so long, I’ve pushed it away like it never happened. Crammed my pain under bullshit and anger. You’ve got me feeling things again. Hell, it’s freeing just saying her name. Sara.”

“Sara,” I smile through our tears. “Who would’ve loved animals and been a pianist.”