My stomach dropped.
“He planned to leave?”
“He drove here the night after the funeral. He said your aunt could raise you. He said staying would be selfish.”
“Selfish?”
“He was terrified.” Caroline’s voice cracked. “He told me, ‘Every time Rosalie laughs, I hear Miley. Every time she runs toward the street, I stop breathing. I can’t survive burying another daughter.’”
Pain tightened across my chest until breathing became difficult.
“He promised me he would stay.”
“He made that promise after he came here, dear,” Caroline whispered.
She stretched her hand across the table.
“He sat in this kitchen until dawn. He kept saying he was not strong enough to love another child.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him not to leave because he was afraid of loving you. I told him to stay because he already did.”
A broken sound escaped my throat.
