“I brought it specifically for this. I thought it might help with the editing process. Plus, I’ve already set up all my files on my phone anyway,” she told him with a shrug.
“This could be… useful,” he admitted, his voice tense, like it cost him to say it.
Sadie had to fight back a grin. Even that small concession from him felt like a monumental win, but celebrating that fact would only have him rejecting the idea on principle.
The next few moments were spent demonstrating the app and how it worked. He watched curiously, although he said next to nothing, which she interpreted as a sign to continue.
“You just write normally,” Sadie encouraged, writing a few lines and then angling the iPad toward him. “The app will do the rest.”
She watched his eyebrows lift slightly when the words appeared as typed text on the screen, clean and immediate. When he leaned back in his chair with a soft, “Hmm,” she hoped she had gotten through to him.
“When you’re done, you can decide where the file is saved,” she continued, encouraged by his lack of outright rejection. “Itwill save you hours of transcription time, and you can have complete control over the files.”
Pulling her chair back around the desk, she managed to redirect his attention back to what they had been working on before she had helped him with the arnica cream. They spent the rest of the day planning with the sound of the rain as a peaceful backdrop. Riley would occasionally get up and wander over to one of them for attention, breaking the monotony of the afternoon.
It was nearing five o’clock when she started gathering her things, glancing out the window. The rain was beginning to pick up, and the sky was growing darker, casting everything in a slightly ominous light.
“I should head back to the inn before this rain gets worse,” she murmured, looking over at him, and giving him a small, genuine smile. When he returned it, she felt an ache in her chest and she quickly looked away under the pretense of focusing on packing her belongings. “If you run into any trouble with the tablet, my phone will be on.”
“Reed…” he began, but she cut him off as gently as she could.
“Just try it, Corbyn. That’s all I ask.”
They stared at each other across the desk, and time seemed to slow. As was happening more and more lately, she was acutely aware of her heartbeat, and she found herself unable to break the gaze. He started to say something, but then settled for a nod, turning away. When the moment broke, she felt slightly off balance and had to shake her head to clear her thoughts.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Sadie said, feeling the need to fill the silence as she slipped her notebook into her bag. “Same time?”
“Same time,” Corbyn confirmed. He hesitated, then, when she stood, added, “Drive carefully on the way back. The bend near Miller’s Farm floods easily in this weather.”
Sadie blinked at him before she managed, “I’ll keep an eye out. Thank you.”
Swinging her bag over her shoulder, she turned toward the door. Riley trailed at her heels for a final goodbye at the front door, which had become a bit of a tradition in the last week. Corbyn’s voice stopped her, though, and she turned back to look at him.
“Reed.” Corbyn remained seated at his desk, watching her with an expression she hadn’t seen before. It was vulnerable and almost soft. “What you did today,” he told her, his voice low, “with my hand. It helped.”
The words were simple, but his voice had roughened, his gaze had dropped to his hand rather than meeting her eyes. His scarred fingers curled slightly, and she remembered the way it had felt when she held it in her own.
“I’m glad,” she said softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As she made her way through the quiet house and out into the rain, the navy umbrella keeping her dry, Sadie tried to make sense of the warmth blooming in her chest. It wasn’t just the satisfaction of professional progress or the pleasure of a problem solved. It was more personal.
His eyes flashed in her mind once more. That shade of blue was so similar to the one that had lived in her memory for fifteen years. Part of her was desperate to ask him, to find a way to bring it up in casual conversation, but that thought also terrified her. They had managed to build a solid working relationship, which was slowly growing into a friendship. It was fragile, though, and the thought of upending that, of ruining everything they had built, had convinced her it was best to keep those thoughts to herself.
Slipping into the car, she let out a soft sigh. For the sake of the book and their careers, she knew she had to stay focused on the professional aspect of this partnership. Starting the engine, sheshoved all her questions to the back of her mind and made her way back to the safety of the inn.
February 26, 2025
-Corbyn-
The stylus sat on the desk next to the tablet Sadie had left behind, taunting Corbyn. He’d spent the last hour trying to ignore it, but every time he so much as glanced in the direction of the infernal device, he could hear Sadie’s voice in his head.
Humor me. Keep it overnight and give it a try. If you hate it, I promise never to mention it again.
She had said it so gently, without any of the usual condescension he had experienced from other editors when they had suggested a similar approach. When her eyes had met his, they were so caring, so full of encouragement, that he had very nearly caved and taken the stylus without complaint.
Slowly, as if it might bite him, he reached out and picked up the stylus. It felt cool in his hand, the sleek design fitting snugly between his fingers, much like his favorite pen; he could hardly tell the difference from the ones he used to scrawl his words on paper.
He eyed the tablet again; across the room, Riley heaved a sigh. The dog looked up at him from his spot by the fire, one shaggybrow raised in what seemed like judgment, as if to say,Get on with it, human, you’re being a daft idiot.
