It came over the course of a week or so. The niggling feeling deep inside Ruth's heart, the quiet whisper in the back of her mind. Time to go, Ruth. She felt it everywhere she'd ever been. Sometimes it came after a few days, sometimes a few weeks. The longest she'd ever stayed anywhere was Cyprus, where a handsome doctor had swept her off her feet, only to beg her to marry him and become terrifyingly cross when she'd said no.

Here, though, this little town by the sea, this place was different. Why or how, Ruth wasn't quite sure. And perhaps that was why she was so upset, so distant and quiet. She felt like she should go, but she didn't want to. And she couldn't pinpoint the reason to stay.

"Ruth? Are you alright?"

She was shaken from her reverie by Harry giving her hand a squeeze and speaking to her softly as they shared a walk along the lane by the cliffs. "Fine," she replied, brushing off his question.

"I beg to differ. You're not usually so detached. You're very far away. Where are you?" he asked her, pausing their walk and reaching his free hand up to gently stroke her cheek.

Ruth let out a happy hum. Harry. Harry was the reason she wanted to stay. And because of that, he deserved to know the wild, nomadic clamoring of her heart, the wistful wanderlust that begged her to leave him. "I think I'll need to move on soon."

Harry heard her words and felt his heart plummet, his fears realized. "Oh?" He desperately wanted to appear casual, to school his face to prevent his deep sadness from shining through to her.

Taking his hand again, Ruth continued on their walk. Just as when they'd first started taking walks together, she found it was easier to talk to him while they were moving. She wasn't as distracted or nervous. The thoughts began to flow from her mouth without much organization at all, and for once, Ruth found that she didn't quite mind it. "I've been here for about three months. And it's really a wonderful little town. Everyone is so kind and good. But I don't really belong here, do I? I'm still the outsider. I don't really fit. This isn't my home."

More than anything, Harry wanted to grab her arms and shake some sense into her, to yell at her that she'd have a home if she'd only allow it. But he didn't do that. Not in that way. "Do you think it might become your home?"

She shrugged, either not noticing or not bothered by the nervous tenor of his voice. "Between my little rented room at Ros's and spending naughty nights in your bed, I can't imagine so. I've got Fidget and my books and my clothes in my trunk and that's all I've ever had. It's all I can afford. And that's always been just fine by me."

"And is it still fine by you?"

"I don't see any other option."

"Don't you?" he asked, his voice quiet and anxious. He'd let go of her hand and stopped walking. He couldn't seem to get his feet to carry him forward anymore.

Ruth turned back to him. "I won't be tied down, Harry. I won't be told what to do or where to go or how to live my life," she replied sharply, suddenly seeing George's beautiful but terrible Cypriot face in her mind.

"I would never presume to tie you down, Ruth. I…I care too much about you to ever wish on you anything you don't want," Harry assured her.

A lump formed in her throat quite suddenly. She swallowed it down. "Well, I haven't decided anything yet. Let's keep walking, shall we?" She reached her hand back out to him, realizing she'd completely spoiled the day. Ruth could have kicked herself. Always opening her mouth when she should stay quiet and remaining silent when she was supposed to speak. That, even more than her restless nature, was her curse.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye as they continued to stroll down the lane. The sea breeze was ruffling his hair. It was getting a bit longer, which she quite liked. More to grab onto, more of a defined curl to catch the light. He really was so very lovely. Yes, he lacked youthful definition in his muscles, but he was strong. Yes, he was a bit heavy and tired, but he was vigorous and sharp where it counted. Yes, he was grumpy and settled in his ways, but he was endlessly interesting and kind. And yes, he was clearly trying very hard not to cling to her too tightly, fearing what it might do to them both, but he had always treated her with respect and as one to be cherished. Harry Pearce was a good man. Flawed, certainly, but a good man.

It was Ruth herself who was the problem. How could she even contemplate wanting to leave when she had this wonderful man who wanted her to stay? Surely she must have something very wrong with her indeed. And she wanted to stay. She'd never been happier than when she was with him. But…was that enough? Was she ready to give up her entire life just to be with him? What if she stayed? What would she do? She had a job, however amorphous it had become. She had friends and a little boy who called her Auntie Ruth. She had a man whose passion made her toes curl and whose conversation never failed to fully engage her. Was that really all there was to it?

Harry could feel Ruth watching him, and it took everything in him to maintain a proper walking pace, to focus on appearing natural. And as the wheels turned in her gorgeous mind, Harry found himself pondering the situation for himself. He loved her and wanted her, that much was very clear to him. But he also understood Ruth's reticent, analytical, fiercely independent and practical nature. She was afraid of change when she couldn't understand it or prepare for it. She bristled at being too managed. Therefore, trying to trick her into staying or begging her to never leave him or anything else that backed her into a corner would backfire most spectacularly. The only thing for Harry to really do, he knew, was to respect her decision, whatever it turned out to be.

But Harry Pearce was not a man to sit on the sidelines and wait for fate to take the lead. No, he would have to take matters into his own hands and once and for all give Ruth a reason to stay. He needed to convince her that this was the place for her. This was where she belonged, here, with him. This was her home. It had to be. Otherwise, Harry wasn't sure what he'd do.

"Ruth?"

"Yes, Harry?" She felt the slight tug at her hand as he stopped walking.

"You will say goodbye before you go?"

The anxious, small voice he'd used nearly shattered her heart. Ruth wasn't sure she could bear saying goodbye to Harry, and if or when she did decide to leave, she wouldn't be able to do it if she had to look at the hurt in his eyes. The utter devastation a goodbye would cause them both was not something she wanted to consider.

And so Ruth did not reply out loud. She leaned in and kissed him.

In that kiss, Harry could feel the answer. She wouldn't say goodbye.