I suck in a gasp along with my leftover words, my entire body alighting with shock over his abruptness and, at the same time, his almost mystical gentleness. His closeness isn’t intimidating but tender, reminding me of that day and the comfort I took in a stranger holding my hand.

I nod, unable to deny him anything, not with his soul-penetrating stare.

“Good.” He says in that gravelly voice of his. If that weren’t enough to make my heartbeat thump at exorbitant speeds, he reaches up, fingers grazing my forehead as he tucks a wayward lock of hair behind my ear. My toes curl in my shoes, and my entire body lights up at his touch.

“Anytime for anything still stands, Marina. Always.”

The loud clang of a wind chime draws our attention to the bank, where Christie stands awkwardly on a lawn chair to hang the decoration on a tree branch near the smoking shed.

I stumble backward. “Um, wow. An emotional roller coaster ride on the Grady Tripp Express is better than coffee.”

He chuckles, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Happy to be of service... and I want to help, so what can I do?”

It surprises us both how quickly my finger wags between us. “Oh, no, Grady. It’s your day off. I want you on your dock with your dogs, fishing. Besides, they’re like putty in my hands now. I need to see how long I can drive the momentum, and I need you to relax, huh?”

He shuffles on his feet, seeming almost disappointed that I’m not putting him to work. A beat passes as we both take in a hawk diving for something in the brush—a mouse that wriggles free from his beak midair, lucky little guy. The hawk fails to find him again and retreats to his tree branch perch for other opportunities.

“How do you do it?” Before I ask the inevitable follow-up, he goes on, “How do you keep smiling through all the bullshit?”

“I have this little thing I say to myself that helps me through tough times. I’ve recited it since I was fifteen, and it’s the only thing that has stayed with me through it all. Don’t you have a mantra or something that guides you?”

He blanches but recovers with, “Don’t get involved.”

I laugh. “That sounds like you. You aren’t practicing it, though.”

“Yes, I am, just not with you. Rules don’t apply to you. You’re my one exception.”

I swallow the lump lodged in my throat.

“What’s yours?” he asks.

“No frowns. No fears. No tears.” I decide not to tack on the recent addition of No Grady sexcapades for obvious reasons.

He nods lightly, seeming to absorb it. “Those are natural human necessities, Marina. You can’t fight them.”

“Oh, I can. I do, mostly,” I say, heavy with assurance.