She didn't choose him. She just couldn't get rid of him. When the village's new commanding officer claims Rain as his — loudly, publicly, and without asking — she expects the worst. What she gets instead is a man who fills her kettle, sleeps in a chair by her bed, and refuses to leave. Vincent isn't gentle. He isn't warm. He doesn't do feelings, doesn't make promises, and has made it very clear that love is not something he has to offer. He also picks her favourite flowers without being asked. Sends books in the mail. Says the bed is cold without you in careful handwriting on a folded page she reads until it goes soft at the creases. Rain knows what she wants. She wants the library job, her best friend, and a life that finally feels like hers. She did not want a soldier in her house and his shirt on her back and the particular problem of falling completely in love with a man who doesn't know how. Good thing she's patient. A slow-burn wartime romance about two lonely people, one small house, and the stubborn business of learning to love someone.