Hollow (Heaven Hill Generations #4) - Laramie Briscoe Page 0,33

dad.” He claps my shoulder before leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Walking over to the mirror, I look at myself closely. I’m older than I used to be, wrinkles and little lines have worked their way onto my face in places I never imagined they would be. At the root of my hair, there’s a few pieces that might have a gray tint to them, but I’m strong and I’m healthy. I’m willing to shoulder whatever weight Mandy or my family needs me to.

“I’ll do anything you need me too.” I make the vow, more to myself than to anyone else. I wasn’t who she needed me to be before, but like Liam told me, I’m going into this with an open mind and a loving heart. This Dalton will be the husband my wife needed, and the man my woman needs.

It’s a promise I vow to myself to keep.

Following the GPS on my phone, I pull up in front of the place Mandy’s been at since she asked for help. Parking, I get off my bike and take a good look at the place.

It doesn’t look nearly as clinical as I had imagined, which sets me at ease somewhat. Glancing around, I see a sign which reads Magnolia Behavioral Health. If this place does as well as I think they’re doing they’re about to see a huge donation from an anonymous donor.

I wanted to bring her something, but after looking on the website, I realized I’m not allowed to, which feels weird after being away from each other for so long. If this were any other separation, she would have gotten roses, or her favorite cookie from Harper’s bakery. But I walk into the building empty-handed.

“Can I help you?”

The receptionist looks me up and down. Not out of interest, but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t see people like me come in here a lot.

“Yeah.” I give her what I hope is an easy smile. “I’m here to see my wife.”

“What’s her name?”

“Amanda Barnett.”

I’ll never forget the first time I said her married name. I puffed up like a damn peacock. It wasn’t even changed yet, but you couldn’t tell me any different.

“Okay.” She hands a tub over to me. “I need you to place your belongings in here, and if you could walk through that metal detector, we’ll get you back there.”

I’d been warned about these things, but it still strikes me as odd. In a way it’s like a prison. Wonder if that’s the way it feels to her? Add that to the list of questions I’m dying to ask.

When I’ve been cleared by their security, I’m taken through a bunch of hallways. I’m not even sure I could get out of here if I tried. Finally I come to a door, the security officer directs a gaze my way.

“You’re allowed to touch her, you can kiss her, but don’t give her anything. You two are the only ones meeting today, so the room is yours. If you’d like for her counselor to come in, or if you need assistance, there’s a button on the table. Enjoy your time with your wife.”

It’s all so clinical, but I do my best to realize this isn’t for me. It’s for her. He opens the door, and when I step in, I feel my heart stop.

There she is, sitting at the table, looking like an oasis in the middle of a damn barren desert. She immediately looks up, sees me, and she’s out of her chair. I’m pretty sure it gets knocked over in her exuberance because the next thing I know, she’s launching herself into my arms.

I catch her easily, the way I’ve always tried to.

But this time I hold onto her, hold on so tightly no one will ever be able to pry her from my arms again.

Her legs wrap around my waist and I just stand there holding her. Neither one of us says a word; because there aren’t words to say. There’s nothing that can explain the way we feel for one another in this moment. My hands quiver as I hold her tightly. Part of me wants to give her a cursory look over, the other part of me dares someone to tell me to let her go.

Our cheeks are pressed against one another, and I breathe in deeply. Her shampoo is the same. Even in the middle of all this change. Her shampoo is the same, and I’m rooted in that little piece of us.