detail of their trip. His addiction hadn’t swallowed his life at that point and his family had been whole and happy. They’d taken a spontaneous trip to the mountains and Tara and Marley had taken to the snow like champs. He, on the other hand, had not only hurt his backside by falling so many times, his ego had taken a hit, as well.
“Sometimes Mommy likes to rearrange things,” he explained. “I’m sure it’s here somewhere.”
Marley crossed to him. When she climbed onto his lap, it took all of Sam’s strength not to lose it. He’d seen his daughter since the separation, she’d stayed over at his apartment multiple times. But he hadn’t been in this chair, in this house, cuddling with his girl.
“Can we go get Daisy now? I miss her.”
Well, that was going to be a problem.
Sam smoothed her long dark hair from her face. His little girl was going to be a stunner when she grew up—just like her mother.
“Your mom and I will talk in a bit. Why don’t you rest here on the sofa without the television?”
When her lip came out and she attempted those puppy-dog eyes, Sam squeezed her close to his chest. “Nice try, but you are recovering and rest is important. Your mom and I will be here, but we have things to discuss so we’ll stay in the kitchen.”
Marley eased back, her big blue eyes locked onto his. “Is something wrong, Dad? You and Mom seem weird.”
Marley had always been smart and mature for her age, something he’d always been so proud of. “We’re worried about you. We want you to feel better and make sure you don’t fall off the playground equipment again.”
Her brows drew in. “I don’t remember falling.”
Of course she didn’t. While they weren’t telling her the events of the past year, they had discussed how she’d gotten the knot and the headache.
“That may be best,” he told her. “But why don’t you rest. Okay? Maybe we can go to the park later.”
“After we pick up Daisy.”
Something came over her face as she glanced to the front door, then to Sam. Her brows drew in and her chin quivered.
“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked, patting her gently.
“Daisy,” she murmured as tears filled her eyes.
Sam’s heart clenched.
“She isn’t coming back, is she?”
He wanted to lie and tell her Daisy was fine, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie now that she had figured it out. “She’s not. I’m sorry, baby.”
Marley flung her arms around his neck, and warm tears landed on his bare skin as he comforted her with a strong hug. He held tight, letting her deal with her emotions however she needed to.
“I don’t know what happened to her.” Marley’s tearful, muffled voice came from the crook of his neck. “I just remembered a flash of her going to the back door, but the door was stuck and I had to take her out the front, but she ran off without me.”
Another layer of guilt because Sam had been supposed to fix that door. There was a spot on their rear porch where they’d hooked Daisy so she could walk into the side yard and onto the porch and to her bed near the porch swing. But the door had been stuck that day and Sam hadn’t gotten it fixed... Instead, he’d gone and gotten his own fix.
Marley had let Daisy out the front door, but the gate hadn’t been closed and the dog had chased a cat and been hit by a car.
Sam recalled that same back door was the one he’d nearly ripped off the hinges the day he’d left. A few days after Tara had kicked him out, he’d been sober enough to come by and fix it while he knew she’d be at work.
He’d sanded it down and repaired it, but it was still the same door. It didn’t stick anymore, but he still hated that damn thing and he hated even more that his innocent daughter was sobbing in his arms yet again over the loss of her beloved pet.
“We’ll get a new dog,” he promised her. He probably should discuss this with Tara, but right now, Sam would promise Marley anything to get her to stop crying. “You really need to rest and we can talk about Daisy later. But you’ve had enough trauma for one day.”
Marley eased back and sniffed as she nodded. “My next dog will have to be named Daisy.”
Sam smiled as he framed her delicate face and swiped her tears away. “Name her anything you want.”
He said nothing more as she slid off his lap. Marley made her way to the couch and cozied up into a ball before Sam slipped from the room. He hoped she could rest and not lie there and cry, but he would be checking in on her shortly to make sure.
Sam eased the pocket doors shut to help drown out some of the noise. They were one of the things he loved about this old cottage they’d lived in. The charm of this home they’d found together, combined with the stylish way Tara always kept each room decorated, always made Sam feel like this was a sanctuary—their sanctuary.
His bare apartment didn’t come close to feeling like a home or looking as amazing as this house.
Sam stepped into the kitchen just as Tara sat her cell on the table. She offered him a forced smile and he hated that he’d done this to her. Hated that he’d taken the genuine smile from her lips, taken the light from her eyes.
“She’s resting,” he said, nodding toward the living room. “But she just remembered Daisy isn’t here anymore. She doesn’t know how she died, but understandably Marley is pretty upset.”
“Of course she is. Damn it, I don’t like this,” Tara repeated. He’d lost count of how many times she’d said that since being given the doctor’s advice. Tara left no room for questions on where she stood regarding their opinions.
Tara rubbed her forehead, then raked her hand over her face. Despite the fact that Sam found his wife stunningly beautiful at all times, he couldn’t deny how exhausted she appeared. She had to be in a rough position, worried about Marley and having the one man she couldn’t stand the sight of back in her house.
He couldn’t blame her. There had been days he couldn’t stand the sight of himself, either. But then he’d healed, he’d started taking a whole new outlook on life. And he was damn well going to keep moving forward until he was proud of himself again.
Without thinking, Sam took a step and started to reach for her. He hesitated, his hand in the air between them. Tara glanced from his extended arm to his eyes. Her silence was more of a green light than he’d experienced in a year.
Slowly he reached for her, feathering his fingertips across her face. Her eyes remained locked onto his and he wasn’t sure if either of them had taken a breath.
“Sam.”
He said nothing as he slid her hair behind her ear and left his hand right there, right at the edge of her jawline where she had a sensitive spot.
“I know you don’t want me here and I promise not to make things difficult.” Yet he couldn’t
