Rewind It Back (Windy City, #5)

by Liz Tomforde

I press play on the first song on the playlist. As it starts filtering into the earbuds, she closes her eyes and listens. “What important thing happened with this song?” she asks. I rest my head against hers. “This is the song I was listening to in the locker room right before I went out to play the game where I saw you for the first time again.” She quickly turns, her eyes shooting to mine. Without letting the whole thing play through, I skip to the next song because I’m not going to be able to wait the entirety of this playlist to tell her what I need to say. She swallows hard. “And this one?” “This is the song I played in my house that first day you came over for a design meeting. It was the first time you ever stepped foot inside that house, actually.” Her brows crease as she begins to catch on to what’s happening. I skip to the next. “This is the song you fell asleep to in my car the first night I drove you home from work.” Her hazel eyes begin to gloss over, but then the next song plays, and she laughs, though it’s a bit watery. “Moana?” “The night you came over to help me babysit,” I explain. “The first night it felt like maybe we could be us again.” Next. “The song that was playing the night you asked me to keep driving. It was the night we kissed for the first time again.” Next. “This is the song you played over the speaker system in the house. It was the first time I heard you voluntarily play music for yourself again.” Her soft expression shifts, lifting ...