I lean back against the railing, watching her.
“I know you’ll find a way.”
Her eyes narrow slightly, but there’s a smile under it.
“That sounds like a challenge.”
“It’s not.”
“It absolutely is.”
I don’t argue. I don’t need to.
Once the meat is grilled, I plate everything quickly. Rainey hovers for a second before settling at the kitchen counter. She's watching me again. She does that a lot … watches. Not in a way that feels forced. In a way that feels like she’s learning something without asking for it.
“You always this organized?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“That’s… intimidating.”
“It’s practical.”
She tilts her head. “Do you ever just do something without thinking it through first?”
I set a plate in front of her.
“Yes.”
“When?”
I meet her eyes.
“Earlier.”
She doesn’t answer right away, but the corner of her mouth lifts just slightly. I nod toward the other room. “Come on.”
She follows again, slower this time, taking in the space like she’s not rushing through it anymore. The record shelf catches her attention immediately.
She stops and walks closer.
“Wait,” she says, crouching slightly. “Are these all vinyl?”
“Yes.”
“How many do you have?”
“Enough.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
She runs her fingers lightly along the spines, reading titles, pausing here and there.
“This is … a lot,” she says. “You don’t seem like a music guy.”
“Why not?”
