Ally’s bedroom had never felt so suffocating and small, but Ally knew there was no turning back now. She couldn’t keep this from him any longer.

Opening the closet doors, she pushed aside her clothes, giving Roscoe a clear view of the boxes stacked neatly behind them.

“Still unpacking?” Roscoe asked, taking a seat on her bed.

“Not exactly.” Ally ran her hand over the top of one of the boxes—Dan’s old DVD collection. Mostly westerns and action movies, but he was also big on Disney, thanks to Reggie. He’d started collecting them when Reggie was about a month old, telling Ally he wanted to study up on princesses, just in case.

Ally smiled at the bittersweet memory.

“Everything my husband owned is in these boxes,” she confessed. “These, and a few more in the garage. I didn’t leave any of his things back in Colorado. I couldn’t bear to part with them. I still can’t, because parting with them means sorting through them, and all the memories associated with that, and I just… I’m avoiding it. I’ve been avoiding it for three years.”

She heard Roscoe shift on the bed, but true to his word, he didn’t leave.

“I want to hear about it,” he said softly. “Anything you want to share. But whatever happened between you two is in the past, Ally. No matter how bad it was. Your divorce isn’t—”

“We’re not divorced.” Ally grabbed a box of tissues from her dresser and joined him on the bed, tucking her feet up, her knees brushing against his thighs as she faced him. The room itself was silent, save for their breathing, uneven and sharp, and the faint sounds of Reggie’s laughter floating in from her room down the hall.

Ally was glad to hear it. She hoped Reg was watching a fun movie, or maybe even talking to Nick on the phone.

Roscoe watched her, his brow furrowed, waiting patiently as Ally gathered her thoughts.

She took a shuddering breath, preparing to speak the words she hadn’t uttered to another living soul in three years. “Dan died, Roscoe. Three years ago. Freak accident at work.”

Roscoe gasped, the shock in his eyes plain as Ally held her breath, waiting for the panic to seize her lungs again. It didn’t come this time, though, and she pressed on, determined to tell Roscoe everything.

“He died saving another man’s life. They called me and said I had to get there as soon as I could—that there had been an accident. But I just… I knew.”

Roscoe’s shock gave way to compassion, then concern. He reached for her hands, holding them tight as he pressed a long, lingering kiss against her fingers. “I am so, so sorry, Ally. My God.”

Tears streaked her cheeks, her heart lodging in her throat, but she had to get this out. “I didn’t want to tell you at first. I wasn’t sure how long we’d last, whether it would even go beyond a few fun dates. So why bring it up, right? And then things got more serious between us, and I knew I should say something, but I just… It never seemed like the right time.”

Roscoe nodded, reaching to erase some of her tears with the gentle swipe of his thumb.

“And the more time we spent together, the more I… The harder I fell for you.” She shook her head, swallowing through the tightness in her throat. “I was so, so scared it would change everything.”

“Change?” he asked gently, confusion knitting his brow. “How I feel about you?”

“I thought you’d start treating me like this frail, fragile woman. Reggie, too. Like maybe you’d feel sorry for us. And then you wouldn’t be able to be honest with me about anything—arguments, stuff I did that hurt you, even silly things like where we should go for dinner—all because you wouldn’t want to upset me. It’s happened before, Roscoe. Our neighbors, Reggie’s friends at school. Everyone means well, but it doesn’t always translate. After he died, after the parade of casseroles and sympathy cards ended, I felt like Reggie and I were stranded on this island. Clarissa was the only one who didn’t change. She’d been close with Dan, too—we all went to college together. She was so amazing through all of it—despite her own pain at losing a good friend, she was there for us in a way no one else was.”

Ally grabbed a tissue and told him the rest of the story, barely pausing to blot her tears as she went, leaving nothing out. By the time she’d gotten it all off her chest, she felt hollowed out inside, weak and drained and utterly exhausted.

“I’m sorry I kept this from you,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to apologize.” Roscoe shook his head, looking into the closet again, his eyes skimming over the stack of boxes before returning to her face. “I… I don’t know what to say, Ally. There are no words for this. None at all.” He kissed her hands again, then squeezed them tight, his gaze turning fiery and fierce. “The only thing I can tell you is that none of this changes how I feel, and I’d never treat you like you might break. You and Reggie aren’t fragile, Ally. Far from it.”

A laugh broke through Ally’s tears. “Well, considering my kid actually enjoys skating around an ice rink at warp speed, she’s not fragile, obviously. But I’m—”

“The strongest woman I’ve ever met. Just to go through something like this and come out on the other side… You moved across the country, started a new career, you’re raising an incredible daughter… God, I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

She smiled, but her heart was still so heavy. Three years had passed since the accident, and she still felt like she and Reggie had such a long, twisty road ahead of them. Of course Roscoe would be the first one to volunteer to help her along that road, but Ally didn’t want that for him. Her grief wasn’t something Roscoe could carry for her. All he’d be able to do was stand on the sidelines and watch her fall apart, and that wasn’t a life she’d wish on anyone.

“Dan was a good man, Roscoe,” she said, her lungs constricting again under the weight of this old pain. “An amazing father. He took care of us. And even though I can go through my days like a normal person—go to work, take care of Reggie, and even have the most amazing time with you—the truth is, I’m not over it. Sometimes I don’t think I ever will be.”

A flicker of hurt flashed through Roscoe’s eyes, but then it was gone, replaced again by his compassion. His endless concern for her. “That’s understandable. He was your husband.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s…” Ally reached for another tissue, blotting her eyes as she searched for the words. She’d made it sound as if she were sitting here pining away for Dan, but that wasn’t it at all. No, it was Death itself—Capital-D Death—that had gotten a hold of her, squeezing her heart until it was almost nothing but a shriveled black shell. The sudden, unexpected loss had hit her in ways she still couldn’t process. It’d changed her entire worldview, shifted the whole planet on its axis. How could someone be there one minute—sitting at the kitchen table paying bills on the laptop, eating ice cream out of the carton in front of the fridge when he thought no one was watching, kissing Reggie on the top of her head before bed—and then just… not? He existed, and then he was gone. Just like that.

She’d lost people before—her mother had died of Alzheimer’s, her father from heart issues. Both were younger than they should’ve been, but Ally was able to prepare, as much as anyone could in that situation. She had time to be with them, to say her goodbyes. When Dan died, she learned that life could shatter in an instant.

Other than Roscoe, Ally had never gotten close with anyone after that—no new friends, no dates, no real socializing at work or with the other hockey parents. Even with Roscoe, though, she still felt herself holding back. Every once in a while he’d slip behind her walls, but it never lasted. Some part of Ally would always be afraid of sudden loss, and knowing she could never survive that kind of pain again, she’d done her best to protect her heart from ever getting that attached in the first place.

It wasn’t fair to expect a man like Roscoe—a man who loved so completely, who never did anything unless his whole heart was all in—to be with a woman who couldn’t offer the same in return. No matter how much she wanted him to stay, to keep on promising her that this would never change how he felt about her, that he loved her, that they could be together… She couldn’t let him make those promises.

“The woman that you think you see when you look at me?” Ally said. “She doesn’t exist. And the longer we keep pretending otherwise, the harder it’s going to be when you finally figure it out.”

“You’re wrong. She does.” Roscoe shook his head, emotion clouding his eyes. “I meant what I said the other night. I’m in love with you—the beautiful, passionate parts just as much as the parts you think are dark and scary.”

“I just… I rushed head first into things with you,” she continued, ignoring the thud of her heart behind her shirt, the bubbles in her stomach at Roscoe’s words. “And I liked you so much I tried to convince myself I could do it, you know? Just be with someone and have fun and not get so worried and hung up on the what-ifs. And for a little while, I did.” She touched his face, fresh tears gathering in her eyes. “But when you found Dan’s picture that night, everything came crashing down on me again. It brought up a lot of things for me—namely, that I haven’t dealt with his death. Like, at all.”

“Okay. So you start right now. You take one step—whatever you need to do. I’m not going anywhere. I’m with you, Ally. Through all of it.”

“I don’t even know what ‘all of it’ entails yet.” She hadn’t even finished going through the boxes. The material “stuff” that didn’t even matter. How could she even begin to go through the psychological ones?

Ally rose from the bed and headed into the bathroom to toss out her tissues, grateful for an excuse to put some distance between her and Roscoe. She couldn’t let herself fall under the spell of his kindness, his understanding. His devotion.

Keeping a safe distance, she turned back to face him, leaning against the bathroom doorframe with her arms folded over her chest. “I probably need to see a counselor, or at the very least a support group. I need to be there for Reggie, to share memories of her dad and help her process his death and our move and everything that happened in between. She seems so resilient, but deep down I know she’s still hurting. She talks to Clarissa some, but I know she worries if she mentions her father to me, I’ll break down again. I need her to know it’s okay to talk about him again. To laugh, even. I don’t know how long it’s going to take, or what kinds of feelings it’s going to unearth—I just know that I’ve been shoving all of it down for a long time, and there’s a lot of work to do.”

Roscoe scrubbed a hand over his mouth, his brow furrowed as he tried to process all of this. “What are you not saying?”

She took a deep breath, then another, thinking back to the other night, to the moment Roscoe had found Dan’s picture. Roscoe might’ve called it surprise, might’ve tried to downplay it now. But the hurt and fear in his eyes that night would haunt her always. She would never, ever allow herself to put that look in his eyes again.

And letting him help her with this was like putting him on a collision course to heartache. How could she drag him deeper into this, knowing full well that something else might set her off at any time. Another picture? A song? A memory? One of those renegade socks in the dryer? It wasn’t fair to him, and it wasn’t fair to Reggie, either. Roscoe had become a mentor to her, a coach as well as a friend. Ally didn’t know what would happen when the regular season started up again, but if Roscoe and Reggie had any shot at building their friendship and mentorship, the last thing Ally wanted to do was mess with that.

As difficult as it was, backing off from their relationship was the right call. Ally didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t want to subject him to the crazy ups and downs of her heart. Roscoe might volunteer for it, but she couldn’t let him do it, no matter how much he loved her.

Ally frowned, her heart already breaking for him. But ripping off the Band-Aid was the best option. The only option. “I’m saying I need to work through this on my own. To face this. And I don’t think I can do it without hurting you.”

Roscoe rose from the bed, reaching toward her. “Ally—”

“I’m saying it’s over.”

He took another step forward, eradicating the space between them. Ally backed up against the bathroom wall, but he was right there, caging her in with his strong arms, his breath falling on her face in soft, warm puffs. In a whisper that damn near melted her, he said, “I don’t believe you.”

That’s because I’m full of shit.

She was in love with him. And she saw it reflected in his eyes, too, looking at her like she truly was the only other person in the world. In his world.

God, this was so hard. She hated hurting him like this, but it would only get worse the longer she tried to make this work. He deserved a woman who was strong and unbroken, one who wouldn’t drag him into the darkness while she tried to claw her way back to the light.

Roscoe would never be the one to walk away from this—he’d said as much. It had to be her. Had to be now, before they got in any deeper.

“I made you a promise,” she said, placing her hands on his chest and forcing out the words. “I told you that if I ever got to a point where I didn’t want this anymore—didn’t want us—I would tell you.”

Pain flickered in his eyes, and his breath caught, but she couldn’t stop.

“I don’t want this anymore,” she whispered, each word tearing through her heart like a hot blade. It was a lie, but that lie would set him free. “I don’t want us.”

“Ally—”

Ally shook her head, feeling as though she’d carved out her own heart and left it right there on the bathroom floor.

She might not survive this, but Roscoe would, and that was all that mattered.

“Please, Roscoe,” she whispered. “Please just go.”