Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Jean, meanwhile, collected two more Trojans for his daily drills: Sebastian and Dillon. Since Cat and Laila would have to plan around these lessons in August, Jeremy volunteered to stay with him at the stadium that summer. It should have been perfect, an hour of focused study time before he was distracted by his friends at home, but after three days of staring at the same chapter header Jeremy dusted off his portable CD player and brought his French CDs to the court. He walked laps as he talked to himself, stumbling his way through unfamiliar phrases and tricky pronunciations. When Jean was finally through, they headed home together.
Sometimes the four of them crowded the island as they ate, cheerfully meandering from one topic to the next as they reveled in each other’s company. Jean excused himself the nights they watched movies, more interested in picking through the Trojans’ matches on his laptop. Convincing Jean to use the living room when Laila had no game shows on took a bit of work, as Jean was keenly aware the TV was not his. Jeremy stuck with him those nights, as much to relive his team’s best plays as to hear Jean’s unfiltered opinion.
Once a week Jean called Dr. Betsy Dobson—supposedly. Jean made his calls from the study but never bothered to close the door; aside from a simple greeting Jean said nothing else. He sat at his desk with his phone at his ear, toying with his wristband from the 4th of July party and a sand dollar he’d picked up at some point. Jeremy had no idea how Dobson was filling the time, but whatever she had to say was more than enough to ruin Jean’s mood the rest of the night. Jeremy got used to taking him for a late run on Tuesdays; he could think of no other way to bleed the anxious rage out of his rattled teammate.
A few times a week Cat kidnapped Jean for motorcycle lessons: sometimes getting out of the house before morning traffic became too much of a snarl, other times taking advantage of the long days and heading out after rush hour slowed down a bit. The first few times they went, Jean looked a bit like he regretted the life choices that had brought this down on him, but each successive lesson made him a little less reluctant to leave the house.
On the 22nd, Jeremy finally settled on the simplest message he could think of for Kevin: “We’re keeping Aaron in our thoughts this week. How is everyone holding up?”
“They lost focus a week ago,” Kevin sent back.
Whoever said texts couldn’t convey tone had never messaged Kevin Day. Jeremy couldn’t help but smile as he tapped out a quick, “Who can blame them?” Knowing exactly what the answer would be, Jeremy followed up with, “Let us know if you need anything at all, okay?”
Keeping up with the trial that week was a task and a half. Reporters couldn’t get inside, but they could track who came and went to the courthouse. Andrew was among the first called to testify, and it was unbelievably lucky that Dr. Betsy Dobson arrived right behind him. Jeremy had two seconds to appreciate finally having a face to go with Dobson’s name when someone was heartless enough to put a camera in Andrew’s face. Andrew threw it halfway across the street, and the look on his face said he had every intention of sending the journalist after it. Dobson somehow got him inside without further carnage.
Another reporter stopped by Palmetto State for a comment, but Coach Wymack had absolutely no patience for vultures. Security barricades went up at the stadium the same day, and every other picture snapped of the Foxes that week was taken from about a hundred feet back.
Kevin was due at court that afternoon, but Jeremy was on lunch break before he saw the photograph in his news feed: Andrew going down the stairs as Kevin went up them, as far apart from each other as they could be on the stairwell. Caught halfway between them was Neil, standing still as a stone as if he wasn’t sure which one of them he was supposed to be following. Jeremy found the answer by accident, when Cat showed him a news clip later: Andrew left by himself, and Neil accompanied Kevin inside. Jeremy went through six different drafts before finally texting Kevin a simple, “Are you okay?”
He knew Kevin couldn’t respond until he was freed for the day, but by eight that night he gave up waiting. The silence was answer enough. Jeremy winced and set his phone aside.
Laila muted the end credits of her show and said, “That bad?”
“That bad, I think.” Jeremy saw the look on her face and reached for her, and he let her crush the blood from his fingers. He willed her to believe him when he said, “It’s going to work out, Laila. I promise.”