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“Shall we?” John asked, gesturing to it. “I think Billy and—sorry, what’s your dog’s name?”
    “Starry, she’s my mum’s.”
    “Billy and Starry are going to keep each other busy for a while.”
    “Yeah.”
    John sat down on the bench and Rhys joined him. The cold of the metal seeped up through his jeans and into his arse, but the view was beautiful. A slight mist hung in the still air, the trees made long shadows, and the frost sparkled in the low sunlight. Billy yapped, nudging Starry with his nose as she rolled on the ground with her legs in the air.
    “No dignity, that dog,” Rhys said, amused.
    John huffed out a quiet chuckle. “Billy reckons dignity is overrated. I think he’s smitten.”
    “It seems to be mutual.”
    They sat in silence for a moment, but it was a comfortable silence now.
    Then Rhys asked the question he’d tried to ask earlier. “So, Maggie said you play the violin?”
    “Yes. Well… I used to. But….”
    Something about John’s tone made Rhys turn sideways to see his face. John’s jaw was tense and a small frown marred his brow.
    “Why did you stop?” Rhys knew he was prying, but he couldn’t help himself. It was obvious it wasn’t just a case of John being too busy. Music was everything to Rhys. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would give it up.
    John kept his gaze fixed on the dogs as he replied. “I lost… someone. We used to play together in a band. I haven’t been able to bring myself to pick up my violin since he died, or play anything at all. Singing in your group is the first time I’ve voluntarily done anything musical in two years.”
    Rhys’s brain latched on to the pronoun— he . Maggie hadn’t mentioned that part. “I’m so sorry,” he said, feeling useless.
    How many times had he heard those words himself when Lyle died? The words did nothing; they didn’t help. He repressed the urge to tell John he’d lost someone too. That might lead to questions, ones Rhys didn’t want to answer.
    John turned to face him then, and his dark brown eyes were bleak pools of sadness, but his lips softened into a smile. “I should thank you.”
    “What for?” Rhys searched John’s features for the meaning of his words.
    “For giving music back to me. If it weren’t for you—and Maggie—I’d have carried on avoiding it indefinitely.”
    Rhys felt his face break into an answering smile. “You’re welcome.” Emotion swelled up inside him and his voice was rough when he added, “I’m so glad I could help.”
    “I’m not sure I’m ready for the violin yet. But I opened the piano on Wednesday after choir. I’m a bit rusty, but I haven’t forgotten how to play.”
    “It’s muscle memory, like riding a bike. You never forget.”
    “Seems that way.”
    Just then, Billy came over and put his front paws on the bench between them. He was panting.
    “Has she worn you out? You need longer legs, mate,” Rhys said.
    “He doesn’t usually get such a good run,” John said, petting Billy, who wagged his tail. “We already walked quite a way before you met us. I’d only been walking him around the park before, but today I decided to venture a bit farther as it was such a nice morning. You’re knackered, aren’t you, Billy?” He stood. “I’d better get him home to Maggie.”
    Rhys stood too. “I think Starry’s still got some life in her. I might take her into the woods now. Come on, Starry!” He raised his voice to call her. “Here, girl.” She ran over and stood at his feet, looking up at him expectantly.
    “It was good to see you,” John said. “I guess I’ll see you next Wednesday.”
    “Yes, I hope so.”
    “Have a good weekend, then. Bye, Rhys.”
    “You too. Take care.” Rhys watched as John set off, with Billy having to scamper beside him to match his long strides.
    Starry whined as they went, looking after Billy.
    “Have you got a crush, Starry?” Rhys asked, amused. “He’s a bit small for you, isn’t he? But maybe