Tossing the pamphlet on the coffee table, I fold my arms over my chest defensively. "Let me guess, it's a group where we go to talk about our feelings."

"No," she shakes her head, "it's a program that helps you learn to live again." She pauses and gathers her thoughts. "Hollyn, I love you so much, and it kills me to see you wasting your life like this. Eric would be-"

"Do not tell me what Eric would have thought about the way I'm living right now. Do not bring him up in this conversation," I say, venom spitting with every word falling from my mouth. There is only so much I can take.

"So we can never mention him? I can never say Eric's name? I can never talk about the good times we had? He was a part of my life too, Hollyn. He was my friend and I lost him as well. I can't keep re-living his death every time I come to visit you. And you can't either. It's not healthy."

"I suggest you leave," I offer, sitting back down on the couch, letting it swallow me into its worn-out cushions.

"Don't do this, Hollyn. Don't put distance between us because I'm trying to help you."

"Have you ever thought that I don't want to be helped?" I shoot back.

"Have you ever thought that I don't want to lose my best friend either?" Amanda says, tears falling from her eyes. "Eric died but you didn't, Hollyn. You're not the same person, and I get it. I can't imagine the heartache you've had to endure, but I've already lost Eric, don't cause me to lose you as well." From Amanda's tear-filled plea, Matt appears at her side, holding on to her tightly. Gaining her composure, she says, "I love you, Hollyn, like a sister. We've been through everything together and when I get married, I want you there at my side, as my maid of honor, but I know you can't be there until you're ready to let go and live your life again." Linking her hand through Matt's arm, she leans into him and continues, "I'm moving forward with the plans on this wedding. I really want you to be a part of it."

I don't answer her, I just nod, not sure what to say or how to act.

"Please think about it at least. If you need anything, you know you can call me anytime." And it's true. During the first three months after Eric passed, I would call Amanda in the middle of the night, my heart swollen in grief, Eric's picture clutched to my chest, tears staining my cheeks . . . and she would come over and hold me until I fell asleep.

"Bye, Hollyn," Matt says somberly before he shuts the door, leaving me once again alone. Alone. Just like I am night after lonely fucking night.

Their footsteps fade in the hallway, the pamphlet Amanda left burns a metaphorical hole in my coffee table, begging and pleading to be opened.

Live again. Is that even possible?

I was married to Eric for a year and a week before he was killed during a firefighter training, a beam falling on him and crushing his body.

A year and one week. That's all I had. One year and a week to call a man my husband, to hear him call me his wife. To revel in the newlywed glow. One year and a week to soak in the man that so easily stole my heart.

I don't think it's possible to know what life is again, to enjoy the small things like the beautifully brilliant blue sky of Colorado, to enjoy the smell of a fresh cup of coffee brewed to your specific request, or to revel in the sound of a baby's joyful laughter. Everything is dull. It's grey. It's mundane. Lackluster.

Lifeless.

Even though we had so little time together, life without Eric isn't worth living.

Sorrow encompasses me, throwing me once again into a vicious cycle of depression. Eyeing Eric's recliner, I walk to my sanctuary and seep into the well-worn cushions. This is safety-warmth and familiar-the closest thing I have to Eric wrapping his arms around me. Opening up the Voxer app on my phone, without even giving it a second thought, I press on Eric's handle and start to play the most recent messages he sent me, getting lost in his memory.

"Twigs, you will never believe who I saw at King Soopers while getting guacamole fixings. Chase Styles from the Colorado Miners. Guess what was in his cart? Tampons, apple juice, and a box of frozen White Castle cheeseburgers. Think he'll be offended if I switch out his apple juice for Ecto Cooler?"

"Don't forget to put the laundry in the dryer for me, I need under-roos despite you thinking I can go commando. Got to keep the balls in a sling if we want all those babies."

Tears start to fall from my eyes from the rich timbre of his voice, the sweet joking tone he would use with me, and the way he so easily made me swoon from just listening to him. I play another, clutching my phone close to my heart, as if I'm holding him right there with me.

"Coming home, Twigs. You better be naked, lying on the bed with an arrow pointing at your vagina with a sign that says, Eric owns this pussy. Five minutes."

His touch, commanding, yet loving.

His love, unyielding, yet undeserving.

His smile, intoxicating, yet charming.

There's no denying it, he was my everything.

"Pretty sure I just saw our neighbor walking a chicken. No joke, Bob Jones was just walking a chicken. Let's investigate later. I'll let you wear war paint this time as long as you promise not to try to paint my dick again. It's stuffed in pants, it doesn't need camouflage."

His humor. His eyes. His scruff. His lips.

The way he knew how to put a smile on my face despite my mood.

All I have left are the faint smell in his clothes, the overplayed messages on my phone, and the faded pictures in my album.

Pulling the collar of my shirt up to my nose, I take in a deep breath, hoping for a small whiff of him, for a small acknowledgement that the man I once thought would be my forever is still living in vivid memory.

But sadly, I know with each passing day, his memory continues to pale. His scent fading, his laugh silencing, and his warm embrace dissolving, leaving me feeling so cold.

What was supposed to be a love of everlasting armor was easily cracked, broken, and lost.

Sorrow, anguish, and heartache pour from my eyes, coating my cheeks and soaking my shirt in a collection of lost memories.

This is it, this is my life full of . . . nothing.

I'm lost in a blur of affliction when my phone beeps with an incoming text. Through tear-saturated eyes, I read the message.

Amanda: I love you, Hollyn. No matter what you decide, I will always be there for you. I will call you tomorrow.

Tossing my phone on the coffee table, I suck in a deep breath, willing my tears to stop.

"Pull it together, Hollyn."

I really don't want to be this person anymore. I don't want to be sad anymore, and I don't want to once again disappoint the one person who's stuck by my side when I pushed everyone else away.

Sitting up, with less gusto than I wish, I push my hair out of my face and stare down at the pamphlet Amanda left.

Dear Life.

Learn to live again.

Am I ready to live again? No, but I also don't want to let Amanda down either. I pick up the pamphlet and take it to bed with me, leaving my phone and Eric's messages behind. Not tonight. I'm already broken enough. I will not fall asleep to his voice . . .

Stopping in the hallway, I grip the wall, my head down, the thought of not hearing Eric's voice in my head as my eyes drift shut. Can I do it?

Can I shut my eyes to nothing but lonely silence?

No, I can't. Turning back to the coffee table, I set the pamphlet back down and pick up my phone, quickly pulling up the Voxer app again to play another random message.

"I love you, Twigs, never forget it."

My throat closes up, my knees weaken, and I drop to the floor, my arm on the coffee table, my head in the crook of my elbow, more tears flowing viciously.

Learn to live again.

I'm not sure I can.

JACE.

"Congratulations."

An older woman wearing pink scrubs with a medical mask dangling from her neck hands me a tiny bundle of baby wrapped in a neutral-colored blanket. So soft and warm.

With shaky hands, I take the six-pound, two-ounce love of my life and bring her into view. A deep breath leaves me before I glance down and take in the one and only thing that will be able to bring me to my knees.

This little girl.

Little button nose, red cheeks, tightly shut eyes, and beautiful puffy lips. She's so small, so tiny, so innocent.

She knows nothing of this world. She knows nothing of its complications, of its prejudice, of its shortcomings, and of its opportunities. But she will know one thing: the love pouring from my heart into hers. At least I hope she will.

I didn't know it was possible to have an immediate, unconditional love for someone. But here I am, holding my daughter, and it's there. Love.

My daughter.

I don't know if I will ever get used to the notion that this little bundle is a part of me, that she will always carry my heart, that no matter what happens, she will always hold a huge chunk of my soul.

Holding back tears and fighting through the knot in my throat I speak softly. "Hey, baby girl." I sniff, not doing a good job at all with my unexpected emotions. "You're so beautiful, so tiny, so precious." Pausing, I take a deep breath and pull the blanket down ever so slightly so I can see her hands. I run my finger across hers and marvel at their size compared to mine just as she wraps her little fist around my finger, gripping me tightly. I lose it, right there and then.

Tears stream down my face as I watch over her and take in this moment, branding it into my brain. "You're going to be the luckiest little girl to ever walk this planet," I tell her, tears hitting her blanket. "You're going to be loved, cared for, and sheltered from everything bad. I don't want you to ever feel pain, or heartache, and I only want what's best for you." I wipe away some tears. "I'm going to love you, so fucking hard, with every bone and fiber in my body. I hope you know that, little girl. I really hope you know how much I love you."

"Mr. Barnes," a nurse interrupts, looking down at me in the rocking chair that rests in a room full of flowers and balloons from my teammates and the front office of the ball club. The past two days have been a whirlwind of visitors and well wishes, but now it's time to leave and it's all coming to an end.

I nod, "Please let June and Alex in."

I rock back and forth, speaking softly to my daughter as the door to the hospital room opens once again, June and Alex enter walking hand in hand, their faces full of hope, full of sympathy.

"Hi, ladies," I choke back. June has tears streaming down her face, her spare hand over her mouth in awe as Alex clings tightly to June for support.

With a deep breath, I stand and say, "Are you ready to meet your baby girl?" I choke on the last words, trying to hold it together. They both nod, and with a broken but also full heart, I hand over my daughter to her new parents.

"Yes," June says with a watery smile. She holds out her hands and I transfer the baby, along with my cracking heart. Alex wraps her arms around June and looks over her shoulder at their little girl. It's fucking perfect, seeing these two beautiful women finally fulfilling a lifelong dream of completing their family.

Stepping back, I observe their pure, unfiltered joy. Seeing them, and their elation, I know I've done the right thing. I know I've given them the most precious gift ever. I know I've given my baby girl the best. I know deep down in my bones that I made the right decision.

This baby will be loved. She will be blessed every day with a warm home. She will have opportunity, she will have the chance to grow and learn and be anything she will ever want to be. She'll have two parents who can give her the world, something I know I can't do.

Growing up in the foster care system, I'm aware of what it's like to not have present parents, to not be able to come home to loving arms. I'm familiar with the broken feeling to not have someone cheering you on, to not have someone at every school function, and to not have anyone to watch you grow into the human you're supposed to be.

I didn't want that hardship for my daughter.

With my schedule, my profession, I wouldn't be able to give her what she needs. Sure, I could throw money at a nanny to raise my daughter while I'm on the road, but what kind of life is that for her? It's not a life at all. I would be a selfish prick to keep her, to only offer half the parent she deserves, never truly being there.

So, I searched for two people who would be able to give my daughter the life she deserves. I met June and Alex through an adoption agency and immediately fell in love with their story, their family, their life. They've been trying to adopt for three years, with two failed adoptions under their belt, they weren't sure if they really wanted to continue, but they decided to give it one last shot. That's when I found their profile.

What's better than one mom? Two. It was the one quote I remember from their personalized letter to me. It stuck with me, that and the picture of Alex and June at a Colorado Miners game, wearing Jace Barnes shirts. I might have been a little partial.

The first time we met, they had no idea I was the man fulfilling their unanswered prayers. Initially it was shock, but once that wore off, we sat down and chatted like old friends. I learned about how they first met, a beautifully funny story about working together at an ice cream parlor. I saw pictures of their three cats and two dogs that they jokingly referred to as their farm. And I learned about their struggle through the adoption process, hearing about the prejudice they had to face being a female same-sex couple trying to adopt. It broke me in half and I vowed to them that day, their search was over. That they could rest easy and start stocking up on diapers, because their little girl will be coming shortly.

We parted with long, thankful hugs, an appreciation for both sides of this adoption, knowing that bringing a child into this world is a huge responsibility and that all three of us will do the best we can to give her everything she needs.

Through watery eyes, June looks up at me, her gratefulness beaming from her. "She's absolutely beautiful, Jace."

"She's perfect," Alex speaks up, being more of the silent one in the relationship, a small tear streaming down her cheek.

"Thank you," I answer awkwardly, not really sure how to respond. "Uh, did Tracy give you all the paperwork?"

Alex nods, still looking down at the baby. "We are all set and we've been through the discharge process as well with the doctor."

"So she's ready," I say, my throat clogging up again.

Alex meets my eyes and nods somberly. "She's ready."

"Well, you should get her changed. You brought an outfit, right?"

"We did." June hands the baby to Alex and then goes into the hallway where she brings in a car seat and a grey diaper bag that's overflowing with newborn items. She looks a little awkward carrying everything, but then again, so would I.

"Good." I pull on the back of my neck, trying to not lose it, despite the anvil of pain weighing heavily on my chest. "Did you finally come up with a name?"

When we initially met, I asked them if they had some names in mind and they weren't really set on anything. Before we left, Alex pulled me to the side and said that they were holding off on a name, in case I changed my mind. She said it would be too devastating on June to once again, name a baby she wasn't able to call her own.

I swore to Alex that day, that June would finally get her baby, and nothing was going to stand in her way.

And nothing has.

The paperwork is complete, June is finally a mommy. Fuck, just thinking about giving this woman such a precious gift has me feeling unsteady and wobbly.

"We did come up with a name," Alex replies, a sincere smile to her eyes.

Clearing my throat, I ask, "What did you decide to name her?"

Pulling her attention away from the baby, June exudes motherhood in that one, shy smile directed at me. "We decided to name her Hope, because you gave us hope, Jace." Alex wraps her arm around June, and I take in the most beautiful family standing before me. "You took a dreary and arduous journey and turned it into something of hope. You've given us something we could never repay you for."

I nod because my throat is too damn tight to respond. We stand there in silence for a moment before I clear my throat and say, "It's perfect. And, you don't need to repay me, just . . ." I take a deep breath, "just keep me updated, send me pictures, come to my games. Please just let her know who her birth father is, let her know that I . . . love her."

That's all I want, for her to know me, and the decision I made for her. The hardest fucking decision of my life.

"You will always be a part of her life, Jace, there is no changing that."

Feeling uncomfortable, I stick my hands in my pockets and stand there awkwardly. Do I leave? Do I watch them dress her? Do I get to say one last goodbye before she starts a new journey? Will they let me?

"Jace," June cuts in, "would you help us get her ready to leave?"