MEGHAN
Liam came home shortly after dinnertime, dead tired: his usually straight shoulders were hunched, and a hint of a beard was beginning to shade his usually clean-shaven jawline. Some of that tiredness disappeared from his face when he smelled the burgers, but not the worried shadow in his eyes.
"Hey," he murmured, hugging me. His lips brushed my cheek - and despite everything that had happened that morning, that touch was enough to chase away much of the fear that had kept my heart in a vice all day. "I'm sorry about this morning, babe. I didn't mean to ... snap like that."
"You were scared," I said. "Don't worry about it."
I hadn't liked the way he'd snapped at me, but even a blind man would have seen that in his words, in his behavior, there was not anger, but fear - a genui
