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)
“Hey,” Jeremy said as he squatted beside Jean. “Are you okay?”
Jean dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Yes.”
He really was a wretched liar sometimes. Jeremy didn’t waste his breath arguing but sat with him until Jean sounded less like he was shredding his lungs on every inhale. There was still a tremor in Jean’s hands when he got to his feet, so Jeremy took Jean on an impromptu tour instead of heading home. They drove up and down the streets of downtown Los Angeles, with Jeremy pointing out buildings and restaurants he recognized. Only when the ghastly pallor finally left Jean’s face did Jeremy turn them south toward campus.
Jeremy parked before asking, “Will you be going back?”
Jean dug lines into the back of his hand. “Once a week for the next three to four months.”
From him it sounded like a death sentence. Jeremy caught his little finger and tugged in a silent demand to stop hurting himself. When Jean obediently loosened his grip, Jeremy said, “Then I’ll make sure you get there. One week at a time, okay?”
The girls were in the living room, Laila hunched over a crossword puzzle while Cat watched one of her ghost hunting shows. Cat was too transfixed by whatever weak evidence the crew was currently discussing to look their way, but she waggled her fingers in silent greeting. Laila tapped her pen twice against the corner of her mouth, filled in another row, and pointed to the other end of the coffee table.
“Mail for you, Jean.”
Jeremy was closer, so he scooped the postcard up and held it out in offering. Jean stared at it like he wasn’t sure what he was looking at, so Jeremy took a moment to study the simple design taking up the entire front. A white crescent moon and palmetto tree sat against a deep blue background, with a pale white border following the edges.
“This looks familiar,” Jeremy said. “I just can’t quite place it.”
“It’s the South Carolina state flag,” Laila said, scribbling in another answer.
Jean finally reached out with both hands to take the card, but he was slow to turn it over. It took him only a few moments to read the short message penned on the back. Jeremy wasn’t sure what it said or which Fox had sent it, but it was enough to take the tension out of Jean’s shoulders for the first time that day. Jean’s tired, “I hate him,” as he left the room narrowed down the potential list of senders to one, but Jeremy wisely didn’t comment on that transparent lie.
Later that afternoon Jeremy spotted the postcard hanging on the wall over Jean’s desk. Laila found him leaning against the doorway to the study room and propped herself up opposite him. Jeremy smiled at the questioning look on her face and said, “I think we’re in for our best year yet. Are you ready?”
“Last year,” she said. “Last chance. Let’s finish it.”
They hooked their pinkies together in silent promise, and Jeremy let Laila tug him down the hall.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jeremy
For all that Jeremy loved mornings and sunrises, four o’clock was a dreadful hour to be awake. He yawned so hard his jaw popped as he pulled on a USC tee and white shorts. The lamp on his desk felt obscenely bright this morning as he clicked it on. He’d packed his bag last night, but it was a long way back if he forgot anything, so he pawed through it as he counted off books and notebooks. His CD player was in the smaller pocket with his pens and gum. After a moment’s debate he dug extra batteries out of his drawer and tossed them in on top.
Satisfied he had what he needed, he dug his sneakers out from under his bed and laced them up. A small tote bag on his desk had what he’d change into after he was done at Lyon this morning, so he plucked both bags up and cut the lamp again. He immediately ran into his chair in the dark and grimaced as he made his way out of the room. The railing helped him get downstairs in the dark.
By the time he reached the landing he’d readjusted to the shadows, only to promptly blind himself again when he cut on the kitchen light. Jeremy set his things on the island, glanced toward the coffee maker where it was finishing up a delayed brew, and went to get breakfast out of the fridge.
Going forward he’d be eating at Laila’s place, since he had to leave his car there anyway, but Dallas insisted on making something for the first day back. He didn’t care if Jeremy was nine or twenty-two; he was sticking to tradition until Jeremy finally moved out. Jeremy was the only one left Dallas could do it for, since Joshua lived with Arnold, Annalise had her own space, and Bryson would be back in Connecticut by the end of the week.