"Is that what you're doing? Not letting it stop you?"
She was quiet for a moment. "I'm trying. Some days are better than others."
"Yeah." He squeezed her hand. "I know what you mean."
They sat there as the sun began its slow descent toward the water, hands intertwined, watching the light turn the bay to copper. The air smelled like salt and pine and the sweet, ripe peaches sitting in a bowl on the kitchen counter.
"Thank you," Tessa said. "For telling me."
"Thank you for listening."
She leaned her head against his shoulder, a small gesture that felt enormous. He let himself breathe, let himself feel the warmth of her beside him, the rightness of it.
Whatever was coming—the man in the gray cap, the uncertain future, the question of what this thing between them was becoming—they'd face it together.
For now, that was enough.
Chapter Nine
The days began to blur together in the best possible way.
Tessa woke each morning to the sound of waves and the smell of coffee drifting under her door. She and Brian had fallen into a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing: breakfast together at the small table, quiet mornings on the deck while he worked on the addition, afternoons spent reading or walking or simply existing without the constant pressure of being needed.
It had been ten days since she'd arrived in Copper Moon. Ten days since she'd walked into the wrong cottage and found the right person.
She was sitting on the deck with her second cup of tea when her phone buzzed. Julia Baker's name flashed on the screen, and Tessa smiled as she answered.
"Please tell me you're calling with good news," she said.
"Define good." Julia's voice was tired but warm. "Leland's finally backed off about the return date. I told him you'd file a harassment complaint if he didn't stop having his assistant call you, and apparently that did the trick."
"You didn't."
"I absolutely did. The man needed to hear the word 'boundaries' from someone who wasn't afraid to use it." A pause. "How are you doing? Really?"
Tessa looked out at the water, watching a sailboat glide across the bay. "Better. I slept through the night last night. The whole night, Julia. No nightmares, no waking up at three a.m. with my heart pounding."
"That's huge." Julia's voice softened. "I'm so glad. And the cohabitant? Ice-in-sunlight eyes? How's that going?"
Tessa felt heat creep up her neck. "It's... complicated."
"Complicated good or complicated bad?"
"I don't know yet." She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping one arm around them. "He told me something yesterday. About why he left his job. It was... heavy. The kind of thing that changes how you see someone."
"Changed for better or worse?"
"Better, I think. He's carrying so much, Julia. Just like me. And somehow, being around someone who understands that weight makes it feel lighter."
Julia was quiet for a moment. "You know what that sounds like, right?"
"Don't."
"I'm just saying. Finding someone who sees your darkness and doesn't run away? That's rare, Tess. Don't let fear talk you out of it."
After they hung up, Tessa sat with Julia's words echoing in her head. Someone who sees your darkness and doesn't run away. That was exactly what Brian had done. She'd told him about the stalker, about the notes and the calls and the constant fear, and he hadn't flinched. He'd just taken her hand and promised they'd figure it out together.
And yesterday, when he'd told her about the little girl who'd died in his arms, she'd understood something fundamental about him. He wasn't just a man who'd walked away from his career. He was a man who'd been broken by caring too much, who'd given everything he had until there was nothing left.
