Summer's Pov
Richard caught me after dinner.
I was heading upstairs with my textbook and a cup of tea, mentally already halfway through the next section I needed to prep for Crew's session, when he appeared at the bottom of the staircase with that particular look he had — organised, purposeful, like everything in his life ran on a schedule including conversations.
"Summer. Do you have a minute?"
I had several minutes. That was the problem — I always had minutes for Richard because he asked in a way that didn't feel like a request.
We sat in the small sitting room off the hallway and he walked me through it with the thoroughness of someone presenting a business proposal. Crew's upcoming assessments. The subjects. The timeline. Physics next, then calculus, then another chemistry paper a
