“Let me go!” she roars, raindrops dripping from the edge of her nose, her eyelashes, the corners of her pretty, sad mouth. “Please, leave me alone. It hurts. Everything hurts so bad.” She breaks down in tears, falling to her knees, her head bowed in defeat.

I put my hand on her head, somehow knowing she needs to be touched. I don’t know how. With Rory, I just do.

When I saw her in New York, my first instinct was to put my coat on her, because I knew she was always so cold. I do the same now. I strip out of my waxed hunting jacket and wrap it around her shoulders, pushing her wet hair back because it must be bothering her.

“How did things get so screwed up?” Her voice cracks. “You’re a widower. My sister is dead. She hated my guts, and I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life. And I can’t even listen to my father’s voice without breaking out in hives. There’s death everywhere we look. Even the day I met you, I was in a cemetery. It’s like we’re bound by pain or something. Every minute under your roof rips me to shreds, and I’m tired of feeling tattered.”

I lift her up by the arms, even though she resists, sagging back to the ground. The rain keeps pounding our faces. I’m wearing nothing but a V-neck shirt, and I know I’m going to pay for this tomorrow morning, but right now, I don’t care.

“Don’t say that.” I wipe her hot tears with my fingers, like it matters in the rain. But it does. To me, it does.

“Why not?”

Because you’re the only thing that makes me feel alive.

“There’s death everywhere you look, yes. But there’s life, too. You just need to notice it.”

“Suddenly you care about that? You told me she was in Dublin,” she accuses, trying to pull back.

“She is,” I grunt, feeling my ears get hot. “Buried in the same cemetery you just talked about. Right next to your da.”

“Mal, Mal, Mal.”

She is taking this all in, and it’s a lot.

She’s drowning in it, and I can’t pull her back up. Only time can do that.

“Don’t. It’s been eight years. Life goes on.”

“I need to leave here.” She looks around frantically, nibbling on her lip.

I lift her chin up so she looks at me. “You’re seeing this through, Princess.”

“Now I’m Princess? What is happening here? This is…this is wrong. It’s not fair to Callum.”

“Giving this up will not be fair to you.”