Thankfully she didn’t sling some kind of useless platitude his way or try and move closer, but her arms had visibly tightened around her middle like she was desperately trying to keep herself in check. “I am so sorry. I know it’s never a good time to lose people you love, but I’m sorry in your case that it also ruined a traditional family time. And I’m sorry that I’ve subsumed all your grief and loss with my own family crap.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I liked it. I liked that you didn’t know. Too many people around here know.” That was another thing he hadn’t realized until now. Suzanne St. Michelle’s very presence might have annoyed the crap out of him, but she’d never treated him like he was damaged goods. Like he was fragile and needed to be handled with care.

She’d always told him exactly what she thought. She’d called him on his shit and not worried about his feelings.

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“I don’t like being pitied or talked about behind my back or have well-meaning people saying trite shit they don’t mean. I put up with it for three years before joining the military, and I don’t want to encourage any relapses from the good people of Credence.”

“I’m sure they were just concerned.”

“Maybe. It was just…too much. Too overwhelming.”

“Yeah. I can see that.” She stared at him for a beat or two. “Well…like I said, I’m sorry.”

Once upon a time, Grady had a bunch of standard responses to well-meaning people, many of them strangers, expressing their sorrow. Something that was soothing to the person it was aimed at, that made him sound grateful and slid off his tongue easy as Teflon.

But there was nothing trite about Suzanne’s emotions, so he went with the simplest response. “Thank you.”

They stared at each other for a beat or two longer before she said, “Think I’m going to sit by the fire and watch the tree for a while.”

Grady glanced at the frightening tree, then back to her. “I’m going to work in the office for a bit, then hit the sack.” A barely there nod of her head was the only response. “Make sure you switch off the lights before you turn in for the night. I’m pretty sure we’re breaking a hundred different electrical safety rules with that thing.”

She gave a half laugh and said, “Sure,” but sighed happily at the tree nonetheless.

Grady rolled his eyes. “Good night, Suzy.” It was getting much easier to say.

“Night, Josh.”

And hell if that wasn’t getting much easier to hear.

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve