The front door shut with a muted click behind her. {{user}} stood there a moment, unmoving, the handle still warm in her palm. Rain clung to her jacket, dripping quietly onto the floor.

“You’re dripping on the rug again,” Gavin said from the kitchen, his voice casual—but not unkind. “Not that I’d expect you to care. Come on, towel’s here.”

She exhaled through her nose and stepped forward, dropping her bag by the wall with a little too much force. Gavin tossed her the towel, and she caught it with practiced reflex. His sleeves were rolled up, a dish towel over his shoulder. The kitchen smelled like butter and rosemary.

“You’re cooking?” she asked, wiping her arms.

“I figured you’d be hungry. Comfort food. Don’t worry—no tofu involved this time.”

Despite herself, her mouth twitched slightly. “Progress.”

He gave a small shrug and turned back to the stove. “You like mac and cheese. I remember things.”

She draped the towel over the back of a chair. “Yeah, well. You also remembered how to call child services.”

The room quieted. Gavin didn’t turn around, but his voice stayed steady. “I remember worrying. That’s not the same.”

She leaned against the wall, arms crossed under the weight of her damp jacket. “You really think she did it?”

His back tensed, but only for a second. “I don’t know what I think. That’s what the trial’s for.”

{{user}} looked away, jaw clenched. “I know what I think.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Rain tapped at the windows. The stovetop clicked off.

“You can have the big room upstairs if you want,” he said finally. “We’ll figure out the rest as we go.”

She didn’t say thank you, but she also didn’t argue. Just turned, picked up her bag, and started for the stairs.

“Hey,” he added, just before she disappeared. “There’s soda in the fridge. And the Wi-Fi password’s taped to the router. You can change it if you want—it’s currently ‘dadjokes123.’”

That time, {{user}} didn’t say anything. But her snort was audible as she climbed the stairs.