She's in a better place, Lance...

Alli was so sick, it's probably a relief...

Keep your head up...

Lance groaned as he heard those words being repeated in his head over and over again. He knew she was in a better place. He knew that she had been sick for so long. The cancer had eaten away at her tired body for almost two years and maybe it should've been a relief, but it wasn't. He was selfish and wanted her back with him and Noah. Noah. Their two-year-old son, who didn't understand why Mommy was always in the hospital. He had begged for her the night before Alli died.

"Pweese, Daddy! I want Mama to wead me a stowy!" he had told his father, as Lance tried to tuck him into bed.

Lance had tried so hard to explain the best way that he could that Mommy couldn't read a story right now to him. Noah gave up and finally had agreed to let Lance tuck him in, silently telling his father that he knew his mother wasn't coming back.  The next morning, Lance had gone to the hospital after dropping Noah off at Joey and Belle's. He had gotten to the hospital just in time.

And now, here it was, the day after the funeral. The day everyone got to go back to their everyday lives. Everyone, but Lance. He still had a two-year-old little boy that he had to take care of by himself. His mother had offered to keep Noah for the next month, but Lance had refused. Noah was his one and only reminder of Alli. His smile, his laugh, and his little turned up nose were all due to Alli's genetics.

Finally, Lance pried himself out of bed and made his way down the hall to retrieve his little boy out of bed.....