“I’m so sorry.” I start to extract myself from his arms, but I don’t make it far before his grip tightens.

“Don’t you dare fucking apologize for that.” He bends down so he’s looking me straight in my eyes. “Are you okay?”

I start to say I’m fine. This is not what he signed up for . . . this isn’t what I signed up for. But then I wonder when else I’ll be able to share my feelings. When will I have this support and attention from someone offering to be a shoulder to lean on? My friends have been amazing throughout all of this, but I’m sure they can only take so much of my crying until they get sick of me. It might be nice to vent to a person I probably won’t ever talk to again once I’m finished with this job.

But the real reason is that I’m so fucking tired of saying I’m fine when I’m not. I’m over being strong. I’m exhausted from the effort it takes to bury everything and walk around like nothing is bothering me. The smile I’ve been wearing is so heavy. I don’t want to do it anymore.

“I’ve been pretending the holidays weren’t going to come this year. I know it’s only Halloween and it doesn’t even count as a real holiday for most people. But once I got too old to trick-or-treat, I would pass out candy with my dad and as soon as we’d turn off the porch light, we’d watch a movie that gave me nightmares until the following Halloween. Even in college. I’d do the parties one night, but I always came home and did this with him.” I look down at his stupid, bare cement floor that really needs a rug and wipe away the stray tears I don’t try to stop from falling. “He’s not here, the house is gone, and I can’t even watch the movies because unless it airs on Disney—and not even always then—I get too freaked. And yes, I know how ridiculous this sounds.”

“None of that sounds ridiculous.” His fingers bite into my skin for a split second before his hands fall to his sides. “You miss your dad. The time of year when everyone is preaching about family is coming up. It’d sound ridiculous if you weren’t feeling like this.”

“Really?” I try to wipe away the remnants of melted mascara that’s probably staining my cheeks and take a deep breath before meeting his gaze again.

And when I do?

Holy shit.