Hank woke with the rising sun again; Josie tangled in his arms. The silence of the morning amplified the sensation of Josie on his skin. It warmed deeper than he thought possible. He shut his eyes, hoping to focus himself on just the senses of touch and smell. The call of the day pulled at his limbs, but his mind was content in the blanket of Josie. It was all he wanted. Her tiny fingertips danced across his chest as they twitched in her dream. He smoothed her hair soothingly as he dipped to kiss her head. A small sigh escaped her lips as she sunk further into his chest. Reluctantly, Hank pulled himself from the bed. Josie settled into the nest of pillows and blankets too quickly for Hank's enjoyment. He felt guilty wishing his movement would disrupt her, but he couldn't deny the desire to be needed by her.

Hank sipped his tea with milk in the quiet of the deserted sitting room as he shuffled through the photos on the coffee table. Guilt surged again as he lingered too long on a picture of his prom with Wendy. They were already leaning in opposite directions from the surrounding scandal. Wendy's lips twisted into a false smile while her eyes remained dull. Even more, her hand planted firmly on Hank's chest, pushing them apart. Still, there was a youthful radiance to her that tarnished with time. Hank knew they were over once the Carroll name was no longer in a class of prominence, but he could still sense a tug from her. He hoped it was genuine love in his youthful innocence, but now he was clear that the draw to him was not from emotions. Her need for him was physical, with no care for anything more profound. He flipped the photo over to avoid the empty gaze and tossed it back to the table.

His hand then stalled over his mother and father, warmly embracing in front of the parlor fireplace. Clara rarely visited the parlor any longer, despite it being only a few feet from where he sat now, and, in reflection, Hank found that he often avoided the room as well. It dripped with family memories. If Henry Jr. were to linger in the home, he would surely haunt the parlor beside a roaring fire with a book split across his lap. The room now was greyed to match the memories, not the warm glowing space behind this image. The smiling faces of both his father and mother felt like haunts. Henry Jr. may be the only one gone, but, in many ways, Clara was more a ghost than her husband.

Hank tossed the second photo back to the coffee table as he sat back in the chair, allowing his mind to slip back to the comfort of Josie. Her ability to fill the moment with what was needed; a persistent plucking to get through the armor of his solitude, the playful riddles to capture his interest, the quiet presence to calm his body and mind. A flash of selfishness clouded his mind as the need he had for her washed over him. Desire rendered him entirely uncomfortable, propelling his body from the chair in a desperate need of change. He was in the kitchen before his mind had settled on a course.

The chill of the fall morning bit into his face as the cold ground tried to claim his feet, sending an ache up his legs. He grabbed the slippers from his truck and sprinted back inside to the warmth, tossing them on the bench beneath his coat as he passed. He set the kettle to boil as he began breakfast. The smell of toast seemed to draw Clara and Josie downstairs as he heard their voices float down the hall.

"Morning," Hank greeted Josie as she joined him in the kitchen.

"Morning," she returned with a nod. "You can wake me when you get up." She added as she slid into one of the island stools.

"No need for you to get up with the sun just because I do."

"Is that your way of saying you like to be alone in the morning?"

"Maybe," he hid his smile with his down-turned face, knowing that, while he enjoyed his hour alone, he also wanted the few quiet moments holding her each morning.

"Uh-huh," she added suspiciously. "So, you going to be busy all day again?"

"Well," he leaned against the island and met her gaze, "I need to rake and put on the storm windows. Do you need me?"

A rush of color flooded Josie's face for a moment. "No, just planning my day," she spoke softer than her usual confident tone.

"You sure? I can do chores next weekend."

"No, no. Clara and I have many more photos to get through. I was thinking of doing the laundry today as well."

"You don't have to..." But before Hank could finish, Josie cut him off.

"I am not a freeloader, and I intend to earn my keep." She spoke defiantly, and Hank knew not to argue. "What?" Josie pushed at his changing expression.

"I got you a present," he suddenly felt awkward. "It is nothing; more for me than you."

"A present? More for you than me? Well, you have me intrigued." A mischievous smile crossed her face.

Hank moved to the entryway and plucked up the slippers, holding them up as he returned to the kitchen. "I know you like to feel the earth on your feet, but it's freezing both outside and in this drafty old house. Plus, you almost gave yourself tetanus on the glass yesterday."

"Do all your presents come with so many compliments?" There was a laugh in her tone as Hank drew near.

"Please," he murmured as he pulled one of her bare feet to him. "For me? One less thing for me to worry about." She let him slip the first slipper on and then the other. "Not terrible, right?"

Josie shrugged in response as Hank gave her a tender kiss on her temple. "Do you worry a lot?" She asked, pulling away.

"Doesn't everyone?" Hank gave little thought to the question or his answer. Worry was almost as close a friend as solitude had been through the years.

"What do you worry about?" Josie focused now, but Hank still didn't note the change in tone.

"The usual things," he absently spoke as he poured hot water into the morning teacups. After the final slosh was complete, he realized Josie was still gazing at him. "Don't you worry?"

"Of course, but I asked you."

Hank could sense she was looking for specifics. "I don't know. I worry about the normal things; money, Clara, you."

"What do you worry about me?" Her voice came softly.

Hank met her eyes and instantly realized that she did not understand that she was always present in his thoughts. He pondered the situation for a moment, weighing if he should tell her or if his feelings were too intense for someone he had only known a short while.

"I worry you'll get hurt." Hank's words were undoubtedly true, although it felt like an understatement.

Josie's lips flirted with a smile. "You think cold feet are going to hurt me?"

"Yes," Hank spoke in a healthy mix of amusement and annoyance. "Frostbite is my biggest fear."

Josie popped off the seat to Hank's side. "Thank you." Her eyes were wide with sincerity as she propped herself on her toes to give his cheek a gentle kiss. Hank couldn't stifle the smile. "I love those dimples," she teased as she headed back to the sitting room to join Clara.