Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2)

Good for her.

I’d visited the cardiology staff and even said hello to some of the ER staff I still knew from my days of working here before switching departments.

Now, there was only one more place to go.

I walked down the familiar hallway, looking left and right, as the memories assailed me. They didn’t carry the same punch as they used to, but my chest still ached from the loss. No matter how much I continued to move forward, a part of me would always remember her . . . miss her.

That was why I had to take this journey, this moment, and spend a few minutes alone with Megan.

I’d stopped asking a long time ago why things turned out the way they did, like why Megan’s life had ended so abruptly and Lailah’s had carried on. I stopped wondering what my life would have been like if Megan and I hadn’t gone to that party, and I hadn’t played that stupid game with her, allowing her to drive instead of me.

Life wasn’t about regret. It was about making the most of it after the dust had settled around your feet.

I looked down at the wooden bench, now marked with the bronze plaque I had installed years earlier.

Life: It goes on.

I breathed out a smile, taking a seat on the bench I’d sat in a thousand times before.

My eyes aligned with the closed door where Megan’s last breath had been taken, where I’d thought my life ended.

It was here where I’d begun my self-imposed imprisonment. Little had I known that it would be my road to freedom.

“Hey, Megan,” I whispered softly as my head fell to my clasped hands. “I know it’s been a while since I was here.” A heavy sigh fell from my lips. “But I haven’t forgotten . . . about us, about this place.”

A nurse walked briskly down the hall, nodding to me, as she passed by. I gathered my thoughts as her footfalls echoed against the floor. I looked up at the door once more.

“I have a wife . . . a child,” I said. “Her name is Meara. She’s four days old today, and she is just so damn beautiful.” My voice cracked as the weight of my words felt heavy around my chest.

“The moment I saw her, I knew I loved her. It was instantaneous, fierce, and staggering. I want to be her everything—her protector, her best friend, and her confidant. I want to be her hero, the one she turns to when she’s hurt and the name she cries out in the middle of the night. I felt all that and so much more in a single glance. I never knew fatherhood could be like that.”

My hand dropped to touch the smooth wood of the bench, tracing the pattern of the grain, like I’d done so many times before.

“Do you think our fathers felt that the first time they saw us?” I asked the silence, expecting no answer in return.

I hoped so. I looked back to those final moments in this hallway—the battles between Megan’s father and me, the tortured pain in his eyes.

Yes, in his world, there was no greater joy than Megan.

And he’d lost her.

There was a time in my life when I’d closed myself off from the world, too scared to risk the possibility of caring for anyone. After losing Megan, I couldn’t fathom the idea of putting myself out there again, only to be reduced to ashes once more.

But now, I knew. Love and life—it was all a risk. Shut yourself away from it, and you’d never know what might be waiting for you on the other side of it all.



I stepped into the NICU and spotted Lailah immediately, her eyes alight with warmth and tenderness, as Meara cuddled up to her chest for the first time.

Skin-to-skin—the nurse had said it was called kangaroo care. There were no blankets. It was just flesh against flesh as the baby snuggled under the shirt of the parent. It allowed the baby to stay warm and encouraged bonding.

For Lailah, it appeared to be the most wondrous experience in the world. My hands itched to do the same, but I knew I’d get my chance. For now, I just relished in the sight of my wife and daughter together for the first time.

I thanked God for the many miracles he’d granted in making this possible. The sheer fact that they were allowing Meara to be held meant that she was making serious strides. I knew her hospital time wouldn’t be coming to a close for a while, but this small step meant more to us than I could put into words.

Parents celebrated every milestone in their young child’s life, and this was just the beginning of ours.

“Isn’t it wonderful, Jude?” Lailah said as she saw me approach.

“One of the most amazing things I’ve ever witnessed,” I answered with sincerity, kneeling down in front of her.

“I didn’t think she’d be able to be held with the ventilator, but the nurse offered, and—” Her voice cracked.

“You’re a natural.”

Lailah held her for a few more minutes, enjoying her special time with our daughter, until the nurse placed her back under the warmer. We said our good-byes. It was getting harder and harder to do so, especially knowing Lailah was about to be discharged.