"I'm so proud of the man you've become, James. You proved that piece of gutter trash wrong and that alone will always make me happy. But seeing the incredible, brilliant, crazy athletic man you've become makes me so happy to be able to call you my baby brother."

I felt James tense on my left hearing the toast. His eyes were on his sister on the other side of the table, her own eyes glassy with tears, fingers wrapped around the glass of wine. Lindsey touched a comforting hand to her girlfriend's shoulder as soon as she'd sat herself down again. My eyes swept over Ash, currently devouring a piece of chocolate cheesecake, and to Chris as he stood, dusting imaginary specks of dust from his black v neck.

"James. Jamie. Pierce." he said in a quick breath. "Man, if someone would have told me in eighth grade that you'd be a starting quarterback in the NFL straight out of college I would have laughed in their face."

Laughs erupted around the table as James's shoulders relaxed.

"Seriously, though, I would have told them I had no doubt. You're one of the most dedicated, headstrong people I know. You've made an incredible team captain the last seven years and I feel so fucking blessed to be able to tell my daughter that I knew the great James Pierce one day. Can't wait to see you on that field man. Congratulations!"

I smiled and looked to James to find him staring down at the red linen mat under his glass of wine, expression unreadable from the angle I was at.

"I guess it's my turn?" Scott mumbled with a feign miserable look. "Gross."

I caught his eye and smiled, to which he winked and lifted his own glass in front of him.

"I've had the pleasure of knowing James Pierce since we were six and he challenged me to a bike race that resulted in a broken elbow for me and a concussion for him." Everyone laughed. "Since the second I stared into his eyes, I knew James had the desire in him. The desire to be something better, someone better, than his father. He wanted to show the world and his father that he could do everything they told him he couldn't. I am not surprised, man, that we are all gathered here this morning to celebrate your accomplishment. I am so proud of you, bro, you deserve every single thing you have right now, even if you don't believe so. I love you, dude. Congrats."

I blinked rapidly to keep tears from falling hearing the speech. Breathing out my anxiety, I stood and held my glass between both hands.

"I'm not great with these kinds of things. The toasts. The speeches. Being open with my feelings, but I'll try."

I caught Ash's eyes and she nodded in encouragement.

"I didn't have the pleasure of knowing James as long as the rest of you have, but even with the little time I have known him, I wonder how I could have ever lived with him. James came into my life at a time I was so lost, and somehow, in someway, he was exactly what I needed to find myself again." I turned so I was staring down at him. "I've never met someone so genuinely kind and concerned. Sometime in the last six months I fell for your words, and a little later I was sure I liked the actions. But I fell in love with everything in between, James. The you that you try so desperately to keep hidden, the you that became the person my daughter and I needed during the worst point of our lives. There is no amount of gratitude that I could express that would come close to how much I truly have for everything that you have done for my little family, James Pierce. You are worthy of this beautiful life that you have been gifted, and I cannot wait to see where your future takes you. Congratulations, James."

*

"So this is how we're going to leave things?" the breeze rustled a few strands of James' hair into his eyes, and it took every ounce of willpower I had to not extend my hand to move it as I'd done the last few months. 'This isn't right, Harley. I don't want to leave shit like this."

I shrugged a shoulder and whispered, "We're good, James."

"Bullshit." he says through a growl. "You haven't said a word to me since we got into the car."

"What do you expect me to say?" I questioned. "Do you want me to jump up and down with joy? We're almost to the airport. If that's what you want, I can do it as soon as we get out."

He waited until I parked the car in the packed lot of the airport to make a quick, sudden move and I nearly melted into his touch when he cupped my face in his hands. "Say the word and I won't get on that jet." he whispered, but the tortured look of confliction in his eyes nearly beat my morals to winning out in why that would be the worst idea imaginable.

"You're going to get on that jet. You're going to go train your ass off and you're going to make everyone in this town proud, do you understand?"

"Harley." the way he said my name has my body caving into his touch and he's nearly holding me upright outside the car. "We can make it work."

"You better get going.' I whispered, finally not fighting the impulse to touch him and brushed the hair from his eyes, my nails lingering on the stubble on his jaw. "Call me when you land, okay?"

The same look of confliction only grows stronger as we head back to where the private jet awaits him. As we slowed to a stop in front of the building, I swear he's going to tell the jet to go off without him, but he reaches for his duffel on the ground and throws it over his shoulder aggressively, before turning on his heel.

He only makes it a few steps before he drops it back to the ground and closes the distance between us and kisses me. Not just a quick, sweet peck we'd shared for the last six months. But the same intense, passionate, heated kiss that had consumed both of his the first time we'd slept together.

"We'll make it work." he tilted my chin up, his lips brushing against my own with every word, forehead resting against mine. "I love you, Harley. I love Danni."

My breath caught in my throat and for a moment I was sure I forgot how to breathe. I'd know he felt that, that was evident in how he acted. HIs jealousy, his protectiveness, the tenderness of every kiss and touch, but actually hearing the words, and that he'd included my daughter in them, was hard for me to grasp.

"Say it." he whispered into my lips. "You gave me your heart, Harley, probably long before you even realized it, and I refused to break it or allow anyone else to for that matter. I love you Harley Jane Mason."

My eyes roamed his for a while, and I became loss in the deep blue oceans as they pulsated. Finally, I Touched my hand to the side of his neck and whispered. "I love you too."

He kissed me again, this time a little quicker, before he rushed for the plane. I wasn't sure what hurt more as I watched him go. The fact that he was gone-or that he'd taken part of me with him.

*

I had no desire to lay Danni down in her own bed that night. Not with us both crying. Once she'd fallen asleep, I laid in bed beside her, raking my fingers through her blonde locks, and stared down at her beautiful rosy cheeks and rosebud lips as she slept soundly. For a millisecond my four pound little angel was in my arms, staring up at me, a tube down her throat and half a dozen wires in her body. Then she was eight months, crawling around Ashley's old apartment with my best friend chasing her, little contagious giggles bringing a smile to my face. Next she was three, blood muddying her face, my phone in her hand, eyes staring up at me pleadingly. And finally there she was the first night James showed up at the apartment to pick us up for the aquarium, the spark of light returning to her emerald eyes as she held the flower and stuffed animal against her and stared up at the man in nothing but pure love and adoration.

Years ago, my mother told me there was nothing more important that Danielle, than the beautiful child I'd brought into this world. I'd understood her sentiment the moment I held my premature baby that cold winter evening. As I held my daughter to my chest now, I realized that though I'd blamed myself for everything Dalton had put us through, had put her through, it had never been my fault. Dalton had been a master manipulator and had done a fine job of destroying every little piece of me until he was sure that I was unable to pick up the microscopic shards and piece myself back together.

But James had been the glue I needed. Broken objects pieced back together are never the same, there's always hairline cracks woven throughout, they're more fragile. He had managed to put me back together, and somehow, loved me despite all the cracks that could be seen in my exterior.

Ashley used to ask me how I did it all, managed to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. All it took was one look at the beautiful four-year-old girl cradled against my chest, and everything made sense. I had to keep pushing. I had to keep moving. Everything I did was to ensure that my daughter had the life she deserved. A life where maybe, just maybe all the trauma she'd endured would be no more than a faint memory someday.

She was all the best parts of me, and I would die before I let my beautiful baby down.