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He pulled her to him before, drawing her close before he could think better of it. His arms hesitated around her shoulders, the way one might gather a bundle of kindling, uncertain of weight or fragility. She stood stiffly against him for a moment, but then her hands came to rest at his sides and she exhaled, as if something inside her had loosened.

“I’m sorry if I pushed too hard last night,” she whispered.

“No.” The word tore from his chest. He stopped and took a slow, deep breath. “I’m not...” He swallowed hard. “I’m not good at this.”

Her grip around his waist tightened. “None of us are born knowing how to be married.”

“That isn’t—” He broke off, frustrated. “It isn’t just marriage. It’s...” He gestured vaguely, encompassing the space between them, the silence of the house, the expectations he couldn’t fulfill.

“Living?” she supplied gently.

He inhaled shakily. Yes. Living. Not just surviving, not just enduring, but inhabiting each moment fully, with all its terrors and wonders.

“Perhaps,” he conceded.

She nodded, as if he’d confirmed something she already suspected. “Well, fortunately, it’s a skill one can improve with practice.”

A reluctant smile tugged at his mouth. “Are you offering lessons?”

“I might be persuaded.” Her answering smile was tentative but real. “Though I should warn you, my credentials are somewhat lacking.”

The tension between them eased a fraction. Graham leaned into her warmth that had begun to seep through his coat.

“Tomorrow,” he said suddenly. “Would you—that is, might I take you and the girls to the park? If the weather holds.”

Her head tipped back enough for him to see the beginning of a smile at the corner of her mouth. “If the weather holds,” she agreed and they both knew it was not rain they were speaking of.

She stepped back, breaking the circle of his arms. He let her go, though his hands flexed at his side, missing the feel of her.

“Do you remember Timothy?” she asked, fiddling with the fringe on her wrap.

Graham gave a soft snort. “The boy who interrogated me in the Beacon House hallway and declared we were both hopelessly smitten? Vividly.”

That drew a faint laugh from her. “He’s meddlesome. And occasionally profound.” She paused, then added, “We have an agreement, he and I. When one of us is scared, we’re allowed to borrow each other’s brave. Just enough to get through the hard part.”

She glanced up, meeting his eyes. “I’d like to extend that arrangement to you.”

His mouth twisted. “You think I’m frightened?”

A sudden knot of resistance formed, tight and hot between his shoulders. Of course he was frightened. He was terrified. But to have it named—so gently, so plainly—was almost unbearable. He forced himself not to cross his arms over his chest as she held him in her gaze, the same gaze that stopped him from killing her attacker in that fetid alleyway.

“You don’t have to accept it, but if the weather grows stormy and you find yourself looking for the door again,” she continued, voice quieter now, “try borrowing some brave instead. It’s meant for staying.”

She stepped away then, collected but not distant, and moved toward the door.

He watched her go, the silence closing gently in her wake. At the threshold, she paused. “Don’t let the girls eat them all,” she said, nodding toward the box. “They’re for you.”

The door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving Graham alone with the fading warmth of her touch and the echo of her words.

He moved to his desk and opened the little box. Chocolate drops, arranged in neat rows.

Graham took one, letting it melt slowly on his tongue as he stared at the closed door. Borrowed brave, she’d called it. As if courage could be passed from hand to hand like a coin.

He wasn’t sure he believed it but if anyone had courage to spare it was his wife.

Heather plunged through the flock of ducks with the enthusiasm of a cavalry charge, arms windmilling as she scattered birds in every direction. Feathers flew and indignant quacks erupted across the pond’s edge.

“Come back!” she called, skidding to a halt at the water’s edge. “I have bread for you!”