Page 102 of Please Don't Leave Me

"I don't want to force you to do anything you don't want to do, but I want you to know that I'll be there every step of the way if you decide to seek help outside of me."

"Like what?"

"Like antidepressants, therapy, or anything else that you think will help you avoid those dark places."

I sit up straight, and his arms fall down my sides, his hands resting on my thighs. His thumbs stroke lazy circles on my skin.

"I guess I haven't really thought about any of that. You came around right after my low point, and I've been feeling really good."

He gives me a soft smile. "I'm really glad that being with me has helped you feel better. Of course, I hope that you never go to a dark place again, but from what I've read, some people deal with this off and on throughout their whole life. I just want to know that we're doing everything we can to keep you happy and to keep you feeling safe in your own skin."

"How do you know so much about all this?"

"After Jacob, I started going to therapy. I've learned a lot, but I'm definitely no expert. Like I said, I don't want you to feel forced into anything. Just let me know if you want my support with stuff like that."

I nod and put my hands on his. I don't have words to tell him how grateful I am for him. How much his supportmeans to me. How relieved I am that he didn't run. I express these feelings in the only way I know how–with a new sense of confidence now that he knows every part of me.

"I love you, Sam."

Chapter Thirty-Two

SAM

Lou and I are back in her hometown to spend Christmas with her family. We did Christmas Eve with my mom and Quinn last night at my house again. It was just the four of us, and I couldn't be happier.

My mom has met Lou several times now, and they are two peas in a pod. We played games all night, and I swear they were ganging up on me.

We cleaned up the house this morning and then got on the road. I've met her parents before, but I haven't been back home with her yet. Since Thanksgiving was a difficult one this year, being the anniversary of Jacob's death, Lou insisted we stay and spend the entire weekend with my family. She was right by my side the whole time.

We pull into the driveway of her parents’ house, and B comes running out the front door to greet us. I watch her running, and one second she was there; the next, she wasn't. Lou and I both look at each other and jump out of the car. As soon as my door opens, I hear B laughing hysterically.We walk to the front of the car and find B flat on her back, having slipped on a big patch of ice.

Lou shakes her head, laughing. "You idiot."

I can't help but laugh too because only B would sprint on a driveway in winter and not look for ice.

B is still laughing and crying. "Quit laughing at me and help me up, you jerks."

We each grab a hand and hoist her up carefully. Despite our efforts, in a matter of seconds, we are all on the ground, roaring with laughter.

We manage to crawl our way to the car and stand. We unload our bags and make it to the salt path that their dad made leading to the garage door.

We walk in and are greeted by the sweet smell of cookies baking in the oven. The Christmas tree is lit up in a multitude of colors, filled with mismatched and handmade ornaments. I walk closer to get a better look.

There's one that's from Lou's first Christmas, several that were clearly made by a child, and a few that look so old and delicate, likely family heirlooms.

Lou walks up behind me. "Welcome to my childhood." I turn around to see her arms spread wide

I spin around, taking in all the decorations, all the pictures on the walls, and the cozy feel that the real fireplace gives it. "It's adorable."

"It's a lot." Lou lifts her eyebrows, opening her eyes wide.

I get what she means. You can definitely tell B grew up here, but Lou's style is completely different. She hates chaos and thrives on simplicity. But I like it; it feels lived in. It feels like a home.

Growing up with Joel's endless rotation of sleek andmodern homes was stale and depressing. The contrast is comforting. And even though I lost a parent when I chose never to speak to my dad again, I at least have a wonderful replacement with Lou's family.

They have been so warm and welcoming every time they’ve come to visit. I keep asking Lou if they are always like that, and she reassures me that neither of her parents has a mean bone in their body.

Lou walks me to the kitchen, where her parents are busy cooking. The rest of the extended family is arriving later today, and I'm anxious to meet them after hearing all of Lou's stories about them last year.

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