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Was she asking what I thought she was asking? Or insinuating that?

Pepper winced. “Sorry. I’m probably moving too fast. I'm probably also making assumptions.”

“I mean, all you said was that you could buy a house with a garage.”

“Right.” She made a face, her cheeks rosy.

My smile pulled into a laugh. “We’ll revisit whatever idea you have brewing after I sell the house. Good?”

“Yes.”

I kissed her forehead gently. Her hands slid into mine and she stepped back, leading me into the living room. When I redecorated the place, it’d really just become a space to hold all of the vinyl records I’d collected over the last few years. A record player sat on top of a thrifted hutch with six shelves, all full of albums. My taste in music varied greatly, so it was a collection that bounced between Frank Sinatra, AC/DC, Marina and the Diamonds, various folk artists, and god knew what else.

“You’ve collected so much.” Her hands fell away as she turned to read the names on the sleeves.

“I have,” I said. “I like the way record players sound.”

She nodded eagerly. “The superior listening method. What do you want to listen to?”

“You pick.”

Pepper hummed to herself as she perused the shelves. Eventually, she plucked one out and held up the album. Miles Davis,Kind of Blue.She carefully slid it out of the sleeve and lifted the transparent top on the player, pressing the lever that lifted the needle. She lowered it to the outer edge and pressed play. Soulful jazz filled the living room and chased away all the nightmares that lingered.

She shut the lid, then turned to face me, holding out her hand. “Dance with me?”

“Of course,” I said.

Our palms slid against each other, fingers intertwining as I tugged her close. It felt natural to have her in my arms and to start swaying. My chin rested on top of her head, eyes drifting shut as her presence enveloped me. This was far more nerve-wracking than being in a room full of music industry reps. Dancing with Pepper had butterflies fluttering in my chest, completely bewitched by her.

As the song ended, I pressed a kiss to the top of her head before murmuring, “I like thinking about the future. What do you want your future to look like?”

“After my fumble, I think you go first,” she chuckled nervously.

I snorted. “That wasn’t a fumble.”

But, I thought about it. What I wanted for myself. For us. I closed my eyes again as we gently moved, soaking in the gentle sound of the crooning trumpet.

“I want it to look just like this,” I whispered. “But not in a house of bones. Somewhere new, somewhere I can build the life I want.”

“A home.”

I nodded as her ear pressed against my chest.

“I want a place for music. A place to play my guitar and sing. A nice kitchen to make meals in for someone I love.” I squeezed her hand lightly. “I want a place to come home to between shows around the world.”

“Mmm. Yes. I want a place where I can escape everything else. I miss listening to music the way I used to.”

“I still want to write you a song.”

She shook her head with a soft laugh. “You don't need to do that.”

Ididneed to do that. The idea of writing a song for her had possessed me. Eventually, the lyrics and music would come tumbling out. “Where do you see your future, Pepper? What do you want?”

“Well, I also want a home. I want to sell my apartment and get a place that's a little further from work. I want to be a better friend to Ellen. I want Jeff to be fired so I don’t have to keep… dealing with him.”

I frowned, worried he’d done something more. “Did something else happen?”

“No,” she said quickly. “No. Nothing to worry about. But, I want to stop making Rosethorn in my entire life. And I want you. I want you in it. However you end up fitting, I just know I want you there.”

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