"But here's the thing." Levi hopped down from the counter, his expression shifting from troubled to something almost like pride. "Daphne didn't just take it. She fought back."
I blinked. "She what?"
"According to Mrs. Morrison—and Viola, who apparently witnessed the tail end of it—Daphne stood her ground. Told Trinity that we chose her, that she chose us, and that nothing Trinity did was going to change that." Levi's grin was sharp, fierce. "Mrs. Morrison said Trinity looked like someone had slapped her by the time Daphne walked away."
Something warm bloomed in my chest, pushing back against the cold anger that had settled there. Daphne had defended herself. Defendedus. The woman who'd spent five years hiding from any kind of conflict had looked Trinity in the eye and refused to back down.
"That's..." I started, then stopped, searching for the right word. "That's significant."
Garrett snorted. "Leave it to you to make it sound like a research finding."
"It is, in a way." I leaned against the counter, processing. My mind was already running through the implications, the psychological framework, the way this moment fit into Daphne's larger pattern of growth. "A month ago, she would have crumbled. She would have internalized everything Trinity said, let it confirm all her worst fears about herself. Instead, she pushed back. That's not just significant—it's transformative."
"She also mentioned the dead plant." Oliver's voice was grim as he turned back to the bacon, flipping the strips with practiced efficiency. The fat popped and sizzled, sending little sparks of grease into the air. "Told Trinity that everything was being documented, that the sheriff was involved."
"Good." The word came out harder than I'd intended. "Trinity needs to understand there are consequences. She's been operating like she's untouchable for too long."
Levi moved to the fridge, pulling out eggs and butter with the ease of long habit. "The question is what do we do now? Trinity's not going to just stop because Daphne stood up to her once. If anything, that might make her more determined."
He was right, and I hated it. I'd analyzed Trinity's behavior patterns enough to know she operated on a fixed worldview—one where she was the protagonist and everyone else existed to serve her narrative. When reality contradicted that narrative, she didn't adjust her worldview. She doubled down, convinced that if she just pushed harder, manipulated more effectively, the world would eventually conform to her expectations.
"We keep documenting." Oliver turned off the burner, sliding the bacon onto a plate lined with paper towels. The smell filled the kitchen—salt and smoke and rendered fat, comforting in its familiarity. "Every encounter, every 'coincidence,' every word she says to or about Daphne. Morrison's taking it seriously. If Trinity escalates further, we'll have a pattern of behavior to show."
"And in the meantime?" Garrett asked, his voice tight. I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he held himself like he was preparing for a physical fight. "We just wait for her to try something else?"
"We do what we've been doing." I pulled out a chair and sat, wrapping my hands around my cooling coffee mug. The ceramic was smooth beneath my fingers, grounding. "We show Daphne that we're here, that we're not going anywhere, that Trinity's opinion means nothing compared to ours. We prove through consistency that she made the right choice in trusting us."
"Speaking of which." Levi cracked eggs into a bowl, the shells making soft crunching sounds as they hit the counter. "How are you feeling about Friday? Ready to show her the stars?"
I felt my face heat slightly—a response I'd analyze later, file away in the growing folder of ways Daphne affected me. "I've prepared a detailed viewing guide. The meteor shower should peak around midnight, so I'm planning to pick her up around nine. That gives us time to set up, let her eyes adjust to the darkness, maybe have something to eat first."
Garrett was grinning at me now, that knowing expression that made me want to throw something at him. "A detailed viewing guide. Of course you have."
"It's practical." I defended, though I could hear how stiff I sounded. "Meteor showers can be disappointing if you don't know what you're looking at or when to look. I want her to have a good experience."
"You want to impress her," Levi corrected, his tone teasing but not unkind. "There's nothing wrong with that, Micah. It's what datingis."
Dating. The word felt foreign in my mouth, ill-fitting. I'd been on dates before—carefully orchestrated meetings with carefully selected candidates, all of which had ended in mutual acknowledgment that there was no spark, no potential, no reason to continue. This was different. This was Daphne.
"I've also prepared a list of constellations we should be able to identify," I admitted, because I might as well lean into it. "And a thermos of hot chocolate, because the temperature's supposed to drop into the fifties after midnight. And blankets. Several blankets."
Oliver set a plate of bacon and toast in front of me, his expression softening into something like affection. "You're overthinking it. Just be yourself."
"That's the problem." I picked up a piece of bacon, watching the way the fat glistened in the morning light streaming through the window. Outside, I could hear birds singing, the rustle of leaves in the breeze—normal sounds that felt strange against the weight of the conversation. "Myself is analytical and precise and not exactly what most people would call romantic. What if she finds it off-putting?"
"She won't." Garrett's voice was certain, the kind of confidence that came from actually paying attention to people. "She responded to your directness before, remember? Shelikesthat you don't play games, that you say what you mean. That's rare for her. Valuable."
I thought about our conversation on her porch, the way she'd listened when I told her what courting her would actually look like, the hard parts, the good parts, all of it. She hadn't flinched from my honesty. She'd leaned into it.
"Besides," Levi added, sliding a plate of scrambled eggs onto the table, "she texted you back about the meteor shower, right? Said she knows nothing about astronomy and is relying on you to educate her. That's basically an invitation to be as detailed and thorough as you want."
He had a point. Her response had been warm, open—not the clipped, careful words of someone just being polite.I look forward to it, she'd written.I'll be relying on you to educate me. The memory made something flutter in my chest, a sensation I was learning to associate specifically with her.
"What about you, Levi?" I asked, partly to deflect from my own anxiety, partly because I genuinely wanted to know. Gathering data helped me process, and right now I needed all the processing power I could get. "Have you figured out what you're doing for your date?"
Levi's whole face lit up, his blue eyes bright with that particular excitement that meant he'd found something good."I've got it all planned out. My buddy has a pottery studio, you know, the workshop space he rents out for classes? He's letting me use it after hours. I'm going to teach her how to throw clay on the wheel."
"Pottery?" Garrett raised an eyebrow. "That's... actually pretty clever."
