Malachi had not expected anything different from their answer, but still – hearing them admit it for what it was made some part of him grieve the loss they’d faced. Not only the loss of a career that they seemed to take so much pride in, but a loss of their home, of their whole life, too.

He could hardly remember what it felt like anymore, that kind of loss. It dwelled in the corners of his thoughts, ever-present, but such darkness was dulled to the point of mere shade. It could not block out the light – but it could cast its shadows, even still.

“I’m sorry that you were forced into that by someone that should have cared for you.”

Even if that person had been bad, as Chéri had said before. To promise someone that you would take care of them… no matter what the relation might be, or how bad a person they were, it was something that should have been as sacred as anything in the church.

Malachi stepped out from behind the chair, moving towards the fire himself.

“Maybe Whitby can become a home for you,” and maybe, just maybe, it could be a home for him too.

He did not think too long about that.

“Do you have a place to stay, tonight?”