Lifting her head, she met my eyes and hers filled with water. I squeezed her hand in support as she whispered, “I get so lonely that at times I literally think it might kill me.”

I was sure my heart stopped beating. I could handle my own shit, but hearing her sound so broken, so down, almost killed me.

She never took her eyes from mine, smiling a watery smile. In an instant, I had her in my arms, kissing everywhere possible, every inch of skin. She was lonely. All the studying, the solitude, was a defense… just like me with my football.

“Molly, baby, you’re breaking my f**king heart,” I said tightly, wondering how the hell an insensitive guy like me could take away her pain.

“It’s true and I’ve never told anyone that until just now… until you. For me, it’s been the hardest thing. It’s amazing how loud the sound of silence can be screaming at you relentlessly, reminding you that you’re completely on your own in the world.”

“Can I tell you something?” I said almost inaudibly, as if my mouth opened of its own accord and a part of my soul fought to get free.

Bracing in anticipation, her breath held as I confessed, “I’m desperately lonely, too.”

Relief and understanding flashed across her face and my girl crumpled in my arms, the floodgates bursting free and years of pent-up heartache making her almost inconsolable. I didn’t know if it was the sound of her breaking or seeing her so raw, but she forced me to face my own demons, and I let my own sadness leak through for the first time in years.

Holding Molly tight, I said, “We don’t have to feel lonely anymore, baby. I have you and you me.”

Shifting back, she wiped at her eyes, laughing, “This is crazy, Romeo. We’ve known each other for such a short space of time, yet I feel as if I’ve known you my whole life.”

It may have been the wrong time to joke, but smirking, I said, “We’re star-crossed, Shakespeare. Fateful, star-crossed lovers. We have a lifetime to get to know each other, unlike our namesakes.” Dropping the humor, driven intention taking its place, I assured, “I’ll make sure we get our happily ever after…”

She settled on my chest, her breathing evening out, when I asked, “That quote on your hip, tell me about it.”

My request caused her pain—that much was clear—so holding her hand, I said, “I’ve got you, baby.”

Taking a breath, she said, “My… my father quoted it in his suicide note. He used to say it to me at bedtime every night and I wanted something to remember him by, just so I can never forget him.”

God. The hurt, the confusion was still thick in her voice. She wasn’t over it. Not at all, not even a little bit.

“Is it from memory?”

And then she explained the note, her father’s suicide note, his last words to his only daughter, and that he used to quote that sonnet to her every night. I was so out of my depth. I was a jock with anger issues—I had no idea how to handle the topic of suicide.

“Would you like to read it?” she offered hopefully.

“Why?” Shock and nerves stilled me.

“Because no one but me and my grandma ever has. I’d like to share it with you. I find myself wanting to let you in more and more every day. It may help you understand some things… about me.”

I reluctantly agreed. If it meant knowing more about my girl, I would be crazy not to do so.

She got up from the bed, completely naked, and I watched as her round ass swayed to the closet, her reaching up to grab a box, and I almost groaned in pain.

Christ, my woman was hot.

Peeking over her shoulder, she laughed, “You’re incorrigible.”

I was, and I couldn’t wait to be deep inside her once more. “Just so you know. I’m going to take you again tonight. Addicted, Shakespeare. I’m f**kin’ addicted.”

Blushing, she reached the bed, leaning down, and pressed a kiss to my lips before handing over an old letter wrapped in a plastic. I began to read, completely engrossed in Molly’s daddy’s parting words.

My little Molly-pops, this is the hardest letter I have ever had to write.

Firstly, I want you to know that I have loved you more than any daddy has ever loved his little girl since the very beginning of time. You’re the apple of my eye and the best thing I have ever done in my whole life.

I know that this is all too much for you to understand right now, but you will, in time. I want to explain why I have left you and I want you to know that it’s not because you did anything wrong.

I have loved many people in my life, but the way I loved your mother was beyond anything I can explain. The day you were born was both the saddest and happiest day of my life. The happiest as I got you, but the saddest as I lost the other half of my soul.

I was broken, Molly, and nobody but God could fix me.

One day, my sweet girl, some lucky young man will come and help you understand the very meaning of love. He will sweep you off your feet and show you what it is to place your heart in someone else’s care and to willingly offer them the gift of your soul—and he will own it completely. Make sure he is worth the treasure of your heart and do everything in your power to protect what you have together.

In the future, when you’re older and wiser, you may look back on my departure and have questions, insecurities, and blame me for abandoning you at such a young age—and for that I cannot offer anything that will give you peace. People may tell you I was selfish for leaving you behind, but I believe that it was more selfish to let you live with half a father.