I dropped my eyes and fiddled with my fingers, which seemed to be the one thing I did more than talking during my sessions with Shrink Erin.

“Is there a grave?” Erin asked softly.

I nodded.

“Have you ever been there?”

I shook my head.

“Maybe you should.”

I shook my head harder.

“Why not?” Erin asked.

“I just…can’t go there. If I did, I’d probably lose my mind, and I wouldn’t want Tria to see it.”

“Why would Tria see it?” she asked.

“I couldn’t do that by myself,” I whispered. I couldn’t look at her as I admitted my embarrassing fault—I was too weak to go there on my own. I wouldn’t make it past the gates.

“I’ll go with you, Liam.”

“Really?” I looked at her.

“We can hold your next session there.”

A long breath filled my lungs as I thought about it.

“I don’t

know,” I finally muttered.

Erin leaned forward in her chair and focused on my eyes.

“How are you going to be a husband to Tria and a father to your child when you haven’t let go of Aimee and your first child?”

I hated the very idea, but Erin had this way about her, and it seemed like as soon as I said no fucking way, I found myself doing whatever she suggested. This was no exception, and on Thursday, Damon drove me to the little Baptist cemetery where Aimee and the baby had been buried together. Erin was waiting by the entrance when we arrived.

It took twenty minutes just to get out of the car, and another ten to walk the fifty yards toward the area where she was laid to rest.

Laid to rest.

It sounded so fucking peaceful, but all I could see was her lying on the bathroom floor, covered in blood.

“I can’t do this,” I whispered.

“Take your time,” Erin said. “If it’s too much, we can try again next week.”

Leaning against the rough bark of a maple tree, I tried to stop myself from hyperventilating every time I looked over at the small, flat pair of matching gravestones with nothing on them but their names and dates. There was no way I was going to be able to do this again, not next week, not ever. If I was going to make any kind of progress, it was going to have to be now.

I took a step forward, and gripped the tree bark.

My fingers flexed, and I took another step. I could see the top of the stones with the simple names and dates on them. Aimee’s had both her birth date and the day she died, but the other one only had a single date on it.

“Matthew,” I whispered. I looked up at my counselor. “She named him Matthew, after Aimee’s grandfather. Do people really name babies that…that don’t live?”

“Of course they do, Liam. People mourn when they experience loss, and the mourning needs a name.”

Tags: Shay Savage Caged Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net