Page 145 of Buckin' Around

The lines are blurred like tears dropped onto the page, soaked in and messed with the ink.

My back slides down the counter’s end until my ass meets the hard floor. Sobs chug from my face over ugly sounds.

A low, guttural groan pours from me.

Hands cramping around the paper, my peripherals blur as tears burn and fall over my face, dripping from my jawline to the floor. I thump the back of my head into the side of the counter, growling, as if that will strip the pain that is a vice around my chest.

It doesn’t help.

I push from the floor, the note slipping from my hand as I stalk down the hallway and out the back door. I lose a scream as I plow my hands through my hair.

“Fuck!”

I double over when absolutely no air makes it into my lungs.

“Riles, fuck . . .” I sob through each syllable.

I knew this would be hard.

But this is . . .killingme.

Frigid air sinks into my burning lungs as I settle.

Something bangs onto the ground inside.

Dammit.

I fly back inside to find Ivy slamming her spoon into the high chair table, the bowl on the floor.

How do you explain to a—possibly one year old—that the person she loved the most has left?

I make a vague side note to follow up on the birth certificate. I need to know everything there is to know about Ives.

Riley would have loved to celebrate her first birthday.

My jaw feathers as I unbuckle Ivy and lift her out. Hugging her tight, I cradle her head, needing her as close as possible.

“Just you and me now, baby girl,” I rasp.

That ache that had eased for a brief moment rushes back in with full force. My shoulders shake as I try and fail to hold back raw sobs. Tiny hands pry at my face as Ivy wriggles in my arms. I lift my head as her little hands clasp my cheeks.

“Dad, dad, dad, dada . . .”

Her face twists with worry, her eyes narrowing. Then her forehead presses to my cheek, her fingers molding to my face.

“Yeah, baby, Dada is still here.”

Only damn just.

Chapter 36

Riley

The second my feet hit the Irish soil, I lose it again.

The flight has been a repeat of me trying not to think about everything I left behind, retraining my mind to focus on my own family now that I’m so close to finally being home, and breaking down into sobs I have to stifle, lest the woman across the aisle feels the need to hand me yet another tissue.

Pretty sure she’s out now. and I’m the cause.