an who trusted no one-not even Nicholas, the boy we had brought into his life as Julianna's last wish. That child, though innocent, was a constant remin

e would sit alone, staring at nothing, a glass of whiskey in hand, his mind lost in the past. I often wondered if he thought of Julianna, of the m

th the scent of cigar smoke. He was sitting in his chair, his face half-lit by the lamp on his desk. Nicholas

most a growl. "Do you ever feel lik

w better than to give him a simple answer. "What do

of vulnerability he rarely let anyone see. "Nicholas," he said, the name heavy on his tongue.

eutral. "He's all you have now," I said softly. "Julian

can trust a child? I've seen the way the world works, Mande.

was built on betrayal and survival, and trust was a luxury he couldn't affo

he continued, his voice quieter now. "But even you... I d

"I've stayed because I made a promise," I said finally, my v

omething softer in his eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it cam

ed. She was the only person who made me feel like I could be more than this." He gestured

ed, but you did. And that's why you should let Nicholas in. He may not be

I don't know how to let go, Mande," he admitted. "Not

n't have to let go," I said. "But you do have to mov

ar with himself, torn between the past and the future, between love and survival. And all I