Wincing hard, I lower myself to the edge of the mattress. Fuck. Some days the pain is unbearable. Today is one of those days.

Sophia and I took the kids to the park this afternoon where I played referee in an intense game of make-up-the-rules-as-you-go soccer. That’s how toddlers do it.

Keeping up with them was a challenge. I pushed myself too hard. Now, I'm paying the price. 

That self-loathing voice in my brain barks at me. What kind of man can’t keep up with a game of toddler soccer? I wish I were stronger. I wish I could manage the pain, grind my teeth and just push through it. I wish I weren’t so broken. With each passing day, I question whether I really deserve to be here. Whether I can really give Sophia and River the kind of life I promised them.

Kids' music filters under the bathroom door. I hear River's laughter and the splash-splash-splash of her playing in the tub. Sounds of innocence, hope, goodness.

God—she deserves so much better than this. So does Sophia.

They deserve a protector, a provider. I’m just some guy trying to hold himself together with rubber bands. A shell of a man with an empty bank account and a broken body. A man who can’t even jump into a goddamned pool to save his child.

A part of me died as I lay there on the ground and watched Ben jump into the water for my daughter. Yes, he’s a first responder. He deals with this sort of thing in his line of work. But that was my daughter in the pool. I should have been strong enough to save her. I failed.

I fucking failed the most important test of my life.

I glance around the shadowy bedroom. What’s the point of my being here if I can’t do my job to protect this family?

Sophia sings softly to River, her off-key voice full of tenderness. We haven’t spoken more than a few words to each other in days and I can’t help but wonder how much she resents me right now. She’s a good person so she’d never say it out loud but I know she’s thinking that she was better off before I showed up in this town.

And she’s right. That thing that happened between us in Vegas, it was doomed from the start.

Pressing my eyes shut against the wall of shame that bears down on me, I grab my suitcase from the closet. I open drawers, pulling my clothes out and shoving them into the bag. I can’t keep living this lie. I’m just not strong enough. I’m just as weak as my father.

I haul the bag into the corridor with me. Sophia looks up from River and her twinkling eyes meet mine. “Hey…”

Guilt wraps its talons tightly around my windpipe. “Hey…”

When I don’t say anything else, her expression grows puzzled. Until her eyes land on the suitcase at my feet.

She stands slowly from the edge of the bathtub. “No, Archie…” She’s shaking her head, water dripping from her fingertips as she approaches.

“I can’t do this…” I say, my eyes focused on the bruised hardwood floor.

“No.” Her voice grows louder and it trembles with fear. "Talk to me. Archie, fucking talk to me."

"What do you want from me, Sophia?"

“I want you to not walk out on me right now. Tell me that you care about me. Tell me that you love me.”

I sigh roughly. “I do love you—”

“And I love you,” she interrupts me. “So, you don’t get to just walk away. Love is a risk but I'm out here in the deep end. All by myself. And I'm terrified..." She reaches out and her fingers curl in the hem of my shirt. Her voice goes incredibly soft. "Be terrified with me. And tell me that you’ll stay, anyway."

"Sophia...I—I love you. So fucking much. I have no right to love you this much." I rake my fingers through my hair. “I’m a fucking burden on you. I’m half a man. My body’s falling apart. You don’t need that.”

She whispers through her fear. “No, Archie. No, please. Don’t do this.”

My jaw clenches. It would have been easier to just slip out. To wait till she was at the grocery store and just leave. But I’m not that much of a coward. I won’t walk out on her the way Josh did. I need her to understand that as much as I want to be with her, it’s not something I’m qualified to do. A man is just wasting space if he can’t take care of his family.

I cradle her cheek in my palm. “I don’t want to be be a burden on you. I don’t want you to get stuck taking care of me. I just want you to be happy.”

“Then don’t leave,” she growls.

I pull in a long breath. “I don’t belong here. You can find somebody better. Someone who can take care of you.”

She closes her eyes and tears spill out.

“I’m only holding you back.”

Her jaw quivers. She’s trying so hard to be strong. When her eyes fly open, they flash fire. “You’re holding yourself back. I’m not the one who sees you as less of a man because of your wounds. You’d have to look in the mirror for the culprit of that crime. You say you want me to be happy? Well, newsflash; you're the only guy for the job.”

Her words strike me deep, but still, I can’t stay. “I’m sorry.”

I try to walk by her, to say goodbye to my daughter in the bathtub. But the strong, protective mother in Sophia steps up to the fore, blocking my way. “You stay the fuck away from her,” she seethes. “You stay away from my child.”

Jamming my tongue into my cheek, I fight against the emotions threatening to surface. I grab my bag from the floor, walking backward toward the exit. My eyes stay on them—the woman I love falling apart in the darkened hallway, my innocent child playing in the bathtub.

Like a coward, I open the door and I walk away.