Page 35 of Roar & Lizzy: A Forever Kind of Love

It took her years to play with the idea that her view on how to handle problems maturely and without anger stemmed from her need to push away the insecure feelings of abandonment she had over not having a father in her life.

Her mother had done wonderful raising her on her own. She was grateful for her childhood. But, she wondered if she would be stronger, more fierce in her own happiness if she had a father's influence.

"You can go back to the bar. I'll be okay," she mumbled, aware that Roar gave her what she really needed by helping her, and it wasn't the ice pack on her face.

"I'm staying," he said softly.

She kept her eyes closed. "Thank you."

If she remained still and didn't have to blink, the pounding in her head slowed to a dull ache.

"You say that a lot." He rubbed her head with the gentlest of touches.

"Say what?"

"Thank you."

"Because I like the reminder that I have things to be thankful for," she said. "It's too sad to dwell on things that remain out of my grasp."

His hand stilled. "What do you want that you don't have?"

"Mm..." She sighed, regretting that she'd mentioned why she wanted the reminder to be thankful for the things in her life.

"Lizzy?"

On her back with her head in Roar's lap, she hugged her middle. Maybe because of her weak moment. Maybe because he comforted her. Maybe because he showed interest in knowing. Whatever the reason, she said, "My mom."

"Where is she?"

"Dead."

"Damn." He inhaled deeply. "Family is everything."

Glad that her eyes were closed and he held ice on her face, she could let herself accept the pity she sensed coming from him. She swallowed. Ninety-nine percent of the time she could honestly say she was okay after her mom had died. She understood life and death.

But there were those rare times, mostly when she was hurting where she selfishly wanted her mom beside her to tell her to straighten her shoulders, put the past behind her, and go out and make her mark in the world.

When those low times hit, they sucked. It was the worst feeling ever.

"How long ago?" Roar removed the ice from her face.

"Ten years ago. I was going to college at PSU. She never told me she had cancer—which is...was so much like my mom. I heard afterward that she'd tried to fight it naturally until she couldn't, and she lost the battle." She exhaled harshly as if it was yesterday that she buried her mom. "Anyway, after the funeral, I came back to Portland, finished the semester because it was already paid for, and after that, there wasn't any money, so I started working."

He placed his palm across her forehead; the warmth soothed her frozen skin. "You're going to have a shiner."

"Bad?"

"Ja," he whispered.

"You say yah, not yeah or ya or yep. Where does that come from?"

"It means yes in Norwegian. J-A...ja." He removed his hand.

"Your vest has Portland dash Norway on the back. Are you from there?" She lightly touched above her eye. The skin was swollen and tender to her touch.

He grabbed her wrist. "My parents came to the United States from Norway. I was born here. All the members of Slag are Nordic."

"Really?"

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