Shaken by Dee Tenorio

old, little Kirby had yet to realize that being a corgi meant he wasn’t designed for jumping much higher than Grant’s knee, but that didn’t mean he didn’t try. Every day.
    As expected, it was the usual mayhem she found. Grant trying with one hand to get the door closed and locked again, his briefcase on the floor, already spilled on its side while Kirby jumped around like a corgi-shaped spring. “Kirby, that’s enough now.”
    “Hey.” Grant smiled, finally getting the lock flipped. He managed a step closer to her, despite the giggles and squeals and barks on his other side, already reaching to pull her close for a kiss. Julia gave up trying to be stern. This had been their evening ritual for a year now and it was one she knew he loved as much as she did. “Good day today?”
    “There’s a new spill on the carpet, but otherwise, pretty good. You?”
    He frowned. “No word from JD?”
    “Oh, plenty of words, but I told him no.” She reached for the morsel in his other arm, but he didn’t let her get away with that so easily.
    “You’re trying to tell me you don’t want to do a guest spot with the LA Harmonic?” His expression told her how little he believed that.
    “Not this year, no.” She reached again, but again he dodged. “ Grant. ”
    “Why not?”
    “Because I’ll be too busy.”
    Instead of handing her what she was reaching for, he put it down with a gentle pat so he could cross his arms and glare at her.
    Julia only rolled her eyes and walked back into the living room. He’d been pushing so hard on this for weeks now, once he’d realized she’d been ducking JD’s messages. Of course, the traitor had probably emailed Grant, just to get his way. Life had almost been easier when they’d hated each other. “I don’t know why this is so important to you.”
    “Because it’s important to you , even if you won’t admit it.”
    She stopped walking, staring down at the living room floor. Four years. It had been four years since that fateful day in the elevator that had saved their marriage—in many ways, their lives—but when he took that tone, all of it came rushing back to her as if it had just happened. The promises they’d made. The fears that still snuck out every now and again to try to steal what was most important to them.
    He was right. She did want to play again. JD had offered her a guest soloist spot for his winter performance. When he’d asked, her heart had leapt, but then the fears had come. The 5 Freeway wasn’t a winding mountain road, but it was still a long drive to Los Angeles. And irrationally, another fear haunted her. Had haunted her since last October.
    A small hand, dimpled and soft, grasped her leg.
    She stared down into a small face, dominated by smiling gray eyes.
    Dillon. The other blessing from that elevator day. She’d been terrified at first, when she’d realized she was pregnant. Terrified that she couldn’t go through it all again. Terrified that Grant couldn’t. But the strangest thing had happened. Having their son, watching him grow within her, had healed a part of Grant she’d thought would never find peace. In many ways, having that tiny life within her had brightened the shadows inside her own soul, too. But Dillon was three now, the same age as Autumn, and no matter how she tried, she couldn’t quell the fears. If she could just speed up time, could race until he was four, she’d feel safe. Well, saf er . With JD’s offer, pure terror had struck.
    And Grant, damn him, had been watching and waiting for her to confess it all.
    She felt his arms around her. It would have been easier to be angry at him if he’d picked an argument, but no, he’d allowed her to mull, slowly drawing her out. His loving arms around her, offering comfort because he knew. He knew .
    “He’s three ,” she said nonsensically, blowing a breath out so she wouldn’t cry.
    “I know.”
    She nodded, because there wasn’t much else to say.
    “But we can’t live