I’d like to see it as well. Seven little words that reached deep inside him. Grady didn’t invite people to visit or look around. He was polite with his neighbors and loaned a hand if needed, but he never asked for one in return because he didn’t want anyone nosing through his business. His lack of privacy after his parents had died had been indelibly imprinted on his psyche, and privacy in the armed forces wasn’t exactly at a premium.

So he hoarded his privacy now. He had his few trusted hands who had been with him the last three years, and he had his aunt and uncle. His circle was wide enough.

It didn’t need to go any wider.

Or so he’d thought anyway, but Suzanne taking an interest in the ranch, in what he did, wasn’t causing alarm. Wasn’t sending him in retreat or throwing up mental shutters. If she’d made that request the day she’d arrived, he’d have shut it down in the blink of an eye, but it didn’t raise any red flags now.

“It’s fine,” he said, his voice deep as pitch. “I don’t mind.” And he didn’t.

“What?” She quirked an eyebrow. “You’re not going to ask for a painting?”

Grady chuckled at her amused sarcasm. “You shouldn’t go putting ideas in my head.” God knew he had plenty enough of them right now. She smiled back, and Grady’s lungs felt too big for his chest.

“Too late.” She hugged her arms around her body again. “No returns.” Then she turned away, gazing once more at the fire hazard in the corner. But within seconds, she was facing him again, her expression screwed into a serious little frown. “I’m sorry. About your parents. I…didn’t know.”

“It’s fine.” Grady shrugged. “You’re not from around here.”

“Did it happen at Christmas? Is that what Burl meant when he said this was a hard time of year for you? Not the military?”

Grady fought against the natural urge to retreat, to tell her to mind her own damn business. He’d hoped Suzanne wouldn’t pry any further and he really wished she hadn’t, but she looked so…earnest. So honest in her inquiry. Not fishing for the gory details, just genuinely trying to piece some things together.

“Early December.”

She shut her eyes briefly. “Oh, Joshua.” They fluttered open, two big blue pools of empathy and compassion.

He could see all the pieces fall into place for her as his aversion to Christmas suddenly became clear. It wasn’t the whole truth, and he wasn’t about to tell her about Bethany even if it was the perfect time, because empathy he could deal with, but pity only made things worse.

Pity amplified the tragedy.