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throat and nearly strangled me from the sweetness of what she did. Then she giggled, backing away just a step and touching her fingers to her lips. “Your facial hair is scratchy.”
    I forced my hands to remain at my sides, clenching them into fists so I wouldn’t put them around her waist and drag her to me and let her feel my scruff tickling against her skin in all the places I was imagining. “How is it possible that you’re not married and making some man very happy?” I asked. If I were younger and whole, I would be hard-pressed not to toss her over my shoulder and claim her. But I wasn’t. I was thirty-four and a widower and couldn’t get my own life in order, let alone be the sort of man she deserved to have in her life. She deserved a man who wasn’t broken. Someone who wouldn’t suck all the goodness and light and life out of her and leave her as damaged as he was.
    “ You blame yourself, don’t you?”
    I had blamed myself since the moment I’d learned of Liv’s death, and I couldn’t imagine a day where I didn’t carry that guilt around with me. That was a future I couldn’t see through the fog of remorse I had been swimming in. But how did Noelle know? How could she see that? I didn’t like the thought that she could read me so easily. These were things I didn’t even like to know about myself, and I definitely didn’t want anyone else to realize them.
    Swallowing hard, I backed away and picked up the duffel bag Sara had dropped off, carrying it with me into my bedroom. “You can sleep in here,” I called out over my shoulder. “I’ll take the couch.” I tossed the bag on the bed and rummaged through my boxes for something clean to sleep in and a blanket to pull over me.
    Noelle came wordlessly into the room behind me, but I could feel the sympathy rolling off her and onto me, like waves crashing into a rock and wearing it into a new shape through the sheer force of nature.
    I didn’t want her sympathy. I didn’t want her to feel sorry for me or know the guilt I felt or understand any of the pain I had carried around with me every day for the last year and a half.
    I didn’t deserve that kind of goodness. And she didn’t deserve to bear any part of my burden.
    When I moved past her, she stopped me with a hand on my chest. “Liam?” It was just a gentle touch, featherlight and barely there, but it nearly bowled me over.
    I couldn’t look in her eyes. I couldn’t bear to see the compassion I knew I’d find in them, so instead I looked down at her hand curling over the top of my polo shirt. She had long, dainty fingers and a delicate wrist. Physically, she wasn’t anywhere close to strong enough to stop me, but she was a thousand times stronger than me where it mattered. Emotionally. Mentally.
    “ You should sleep in your bed and let me sleep on the couch,” she said when I remained silent. “You’re an athlete. You need your body—”
    “ I have no idea when Babs will be home,” I cut in. “I don’t want him coming home and finding you on the couch with almost nothing on. And you’ve been sleeping in a fucking car.”
    She flinched when I cursed.
    God, I was such a bastard. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have used that kind of language with you.” Before she could argue any further, I pushed past her and closed the door behind me. I tossed my clothes and blanket on the couch, crossed to the wall, and banged my head against it as hard as I could without potentially causing myself damage or scaring Noelle half to death.
    What the fuck was I doing?
     
    The sun wasn’t yet up, but I lay in Liam’s bed as wide awake as I could possibly be. Not to mention warmer and cozier and way more comfortable than I’d been in quite a while.
    I popped my eyes open and looked at the bright green alarm clock lights on the nightstand next to me. It was only 6:13 a.m., and I’d already been lying awake in here for at least half an hour, not wanting to wake anyone else up if I could avoid