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"I was trying to be responsible."

"Are you ever not responsible?" he challenged. "I get the feeling that you took on responsibility early in your life, and you never let it go."

"I had to take care of myself a lot of the time," she admitted. "But in the long run, I think that made me stronger."

"You know what else I find interesting about you?"

She gave him a wary look. "Do I want to know?"

He smiled. "I would have picked you for someone who followed a recipe word for word, not one who made something out of nothing. It doesn't seem to fit your personality."

"My rule-following personality?" she asked pointedly.

He tipped his head. "You said it; I didn't."

"You said it before. I was just repeating it. I admit I like structure. And I think rules are there for a reason so people don't make irrevocable mistakes, which would be a disaster in medicine."

"But maybe a masterpiece in the kitchen," he countered.

"I've had some failures in the kitchen as well, but mostly with baking. If you don't follow the directions when you bake, if you're even a little bit off in the measurements, the dessert can be ruined. Baking is chemistry, and medicine is chemistry, too. So, when it comes to those areas, I don't take chances. And I don't think that's wrong, even if you do."

He wasn't quite sure what to say to that. Who was he to judge her for her job when he'd never done it? He was beginning to realize that was a question he should have asked himself a long time ago.

But putting all that aside, he had to admit that he was liking this different version of Rachel. Or maybe this had always been her; he'd just only seen one side of her.

Before he could respond to her comment, his phone buzzed. He took it out of his pocket to read the text message.

"Is that about Jack?" she asked. "Or is it personal?"

"It's Evan getting back to me. He's busy tonight, but he said I can come over to his house tomorrow afternoon if I want to talk. He's having a barbecue for his soon-to-be step-kid's birthday, and he'd like to speak to me in person, not over the phone."

"Sounds like you're going to a barbecue."

"I'd rather not talk about Jack with a lot of people around, but I guess I don't have a choice," he said.

"If Evan wants to talk to you in person, it sounds like he has something to say. How much have you told him?"

"Only that I thought Jack was in trouble, and I needed to talk." As she stared back at him, he could see the wheels turning in her head. "You can't come with me, Rachel."

"Why not? I want to hear what Evan has to say about Jack. And how dangerous could a barbecue be?"

"I can tell you what Evan says."

"I want to hear it from him. And I'm not stepping out of this, Tyler. We can work together, or we can work separately, but I'm not going to stop until I know Jack is okay."

"What if he's not okay?" he challenged. "You have no idea what's going on."

"You don't, either."

"I can handle a bad result; I'm not sure you can. It seems like you feel some guilt about Jack, about not seeing that he was in trouble. If this doesn't end well, getting more involved won't make you feel better; it will make you feel worse."

"That's my risk to take," she argued. "And maybe I can't force you to let me speak to Evan, but I can call him on my own. I can talk to the police. I can follow up with the people who knew Jack. I can speak to his neighbors, find other friends through Melody."

"Stop," he said, holding up a hand, as he saw the serious intent in her eyes to do exactly what she'd said she was going to do, which would only make his job harder. Plus, he'd have to worry about her every other second, too.

"I told you I'm not going to stop," she said, ready to do battle.

"I meant, you can stop fighting with me. You can come with me to see Evan."