Working Together

RACHEL'S POV 

Devon paused, turning back towards me with a curious expression contorting his face. 

"When did you say your dad died again?" 

"Roughly about a decade ago, like thirteen or so years." I replied. He bit his lower lip, then scribbled something on his notepad. Since that incident at the library, we've spent every waking moment together brainstorming about dad's death. Devon had insisted that putting things in writing was the best way to clear one's head and arrange one's thoughts in a productive order. 

So I've mostly been talking with him about dad, what he was like when he was alive, and filling in as many details as I could remember concerning dad's death. Unlike other times I've retold this story, this time around I wasn't met with condescending criticism, but rather I finally had someone who believed me and was eager to help me. It was a refreshing difference compared to what I was used to.