CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
J ean
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W ednesday morning Cat and Jean rode their motorcycles back across town, since Jeremy was afraid a neighbor would notice how long they were parked out front and report back to his parents. Laila staunchly refused to get on Cat s bike again, so Jeremy gave her a ride in his car and promised to meet them at the Lofts. Traffic was light enough at this ungodly morning hour that Jeremy could almost keep up with them, but Cat and Jean peeled away in the last few miles.
Jean had his clothes half-packed into a plastic bag when Jeremy and Laila finally showed up, but Laila came to his room instead of her own. She propped herself against his doorframe and studied him with a serious look while Jeremy hovered just behind her.
Tell me about Lyle Holden, Laila said. Do you know him?
It was so unexpected Jean could only stare at her. The do was at least a little reassuring, as it meant Lyle was still alive. Jean slowly set his bag aside and folded his arms across his chest. Number thirty-three, left-handed goalkeeper. A young brunette obsessed with spiking his hair despite not having the face for it, he had so much gel in his hair at any given time his helmet crunched when he strapped it on. Jean glanced between Laila and Jeremy as he continued, He is a sophomore this year. Why?
He s been hospitalized, Jeremy said. He had a nervous breakdown in his first class this morning.
Still alive for now, Jean silently amended. If he d crashed so publicly that California was already hearing about it, heads were going to roll. Jean slowly reached for his bag and shoved his clothes deeper. He was dimly aware of Jeremy saying his name, but Jean kept his eyes on his work as he said, No one will be surprised he broke, and no one will mourn his absence from the line. The Ravens despised his stutter.
A vile understatement, but Jean refused to explain further. The Ravens mocked Lyle so mercilessly his freshman year he tried to stop talking altogether, but the coaches thrived on cruelty for cruelty s sake. They d called on him in team meetings at any given opportunity, then brutally punished him for his inevitable struggle. It reminded Jean of his early days in the Nest, when English was more noise than language. Maybe Sergio also understood, as he d fought to be Lyle s partner last fall after keeping his distance the year before.
Jean hadn t heard Cat approach, but her subdued, It s creepy, isn t it? had Laila looking over her shoulder. Jeremy took advantage of her distraction to squeeze past at last, and Cat burrowed into Laila s side with a troubled look on her face. Where are the Ravens parents in all this madness?
Ravens do not have families, Jean said.
They do, Cat insisted. But fuck, they might as well not.
Jeremy stared at her. Cat, easy.
Cat gave a sharp jerk of her hand. Like, yes, they got their kids therapy this summer when they were falling apart, but then they sent them right back to Edgar Allan to try again. Now three more Ravens-four, if you include the freshman last week-are gone, and their parents are dead silent. Sorry, she said, wincing at her word choice. It s just... How many Ravens have to die before their families finally step up?
Laila wound an arm around Cat s waist and gave her a slow squeeze. I imagine, she said slowly, with a glance at Jean for confirmation, that the Ravens contracts with Edgar Allan are to blame. A school that can force its players to drop all contact with their families for five straight years must have strict contingencies and countermeasures in place. Either they can t speak out, or they ve been well compensated for their discretion. Maybe both. Jean?
Perhaps. I did not read the contract. The silence that followed that statement was deep enough to drown in. Jean refused to believe they were surprised, and a hint of impatience bled into his words: What it said was unimportant. I had no choice but to sign. Property had no right to contest the terms of ownership, but Jean couldn t say that. The best he had was, I could not go home again.
Cat s expression turned immeasurably sad, but Jeremy found his voice first: Jean, tell me you at least read the contract we sent you for USC.
Some of it, Jean admitted. He shrugged indifference in the face of Jeremy s obvious dismay. It was very long and very boring. All I needed to know was if you included what I asked of you. It does not matter. What matters is that we will be late to practice if you do not hurry up and pack, he added, shaking his bag of clothes in Laila s direction. I do not want to talk about the Ravens anymore today.
She held her tongue, but he didn t trust the look in her eyes. It was a little too knowing to be curiosity, and a little too prying to be sure, but he didn t want to know what inspired it. It was enough that she turned away without further comment, and that Cat followed her across the apartment. Jean turned an expectant look on Jeremy, who mimed zipping his mouth closed, and sat down on his blanket to wait on the girls.
Despite rejecting the conversation, his thoughts stayed with Evermore. Sergio would know what was going on with Lyle, but Jean didn t know his phone number. For a moment he considered calling Josiah Smalls for it, but the thought was enough to turn his stomach. Eventually Edgar Allan would spin a story for the news, and Cat would relay it to the group. Until then there was nothing Jean could do.
Except when Edgar Allan finally made a statement that afternoon, there was no mention of Lyle s breakdown. Campus president Louis Andritch was more interested in introducing the Ravens new head coach: Joel Coer, a member of the Ravens original lineup and the team s first captain. He d dropped off the face of the planet after a seven-year tenure with the Ohio Thunder. That Edgar Allan had found him again wasn t surprising, but Jean could only imagine what they promised to draw him out of retirement.
Jean s statistics class had ended almost ten minutes ago, but Cody had seen the Coer headline when packing up to leave. Now they were the last two in the classroom, and Cody s laptop was angled so both could read the screen. Cody finished first, of course, but they waited for Jean to sit back before asking, Thoughts?
Undecided, Jean admitted. He has been away a long time, but he is a Raven. He will know how to guide them.
Hope so. Cody tugged the laptop closer. Let me email this to Cat real quick, and then we can go.
Jean had his backpack half-packed when Cody s words sank in. He checked his bag before remembering his laptop was nothing more than a charred hunk of metal. I need to visit the library before practice.
Oh? Sure, Cody agreed, finishing up and pushing everything into their bag. Before or after we eat?
I will be quick, Jean promised, and off they went.
He found an open computer near the window and put in his student credentials. There were a dozen-odd unread emails in his inbox from the last few days, notifications from professors and the campus, but Jean ignored all of them. It didn t matter that he didn t know Sergio s phone number. Edgar Allan, like USC, used a very straightforward system when assigning email addresses to its students. Jean remembered his, which meant he knew Sergio s. Jean opened a new message and filled in the TO line before hesitating.
Cody was on their phone, but Jean was still so long they glanced up. Good?
Maybe, Jean said noncommittally.
He hadn t spoken to Sergio since he left Evermore, but Sergio was a Raven, and he d closed ranks against Jean. He d sent a letter to Palmetto State with Jean s notebooks, same as the rest of them had. The chances of him answering Jean were slim; the probability of it being a pleasant response was even more unlikely. There was more to lose than gain by reaching out. Jean glanced at the mouse, telling himself to let it go, before typing out a simple, Lyle?
He sent it before he could change his mind and logged out.
Done? Cody asked. Great! Let s eat.
Yes, Jean agreed, and forced his former teammates from mind.
Afternoon practice got out a few minutes early, and Jean followed Cat and Laila to Jeremy s car for the long trek west. The Wilshire family chef had the week off, since Jeremy was the only one home, but Cat was excited to get her hands on his expensive appliances. Jeremy was obviously unaccustomed to hosting people at his place, and the best entertainment he had to offer was a tangled-up yo-yo and a hacky sack. They ended up watching a lot of TV, as the house had five across three floors.
William was up before them the next morning and sent them off with four travel mugs of coffee. Cat sang his praises until Laila kissed her to silence with a grumpy, Too early, babe.
Jean and Tanner went from Lyon to the library, where Jean suffered through an uncomfortable, stilted conversation with Dobson. As soon as he hung up on her, he led Tanner over to the computers. Tanner didn t care where they went so long as he could find an open chair, since he had two quizzes to study for. He settled down and immediately got back to work, and Jean logged into the system.
Beneath a few new automated messages from USC was a response from Sergio, time-stamped for three in the morning local time. Jean tapped into it and read the short message in silence: He s gone. Andritch terminated his contract and sent him home last night. It was followed by a few blank lines, and then, You look dumb as fuck in red, Moreau. Almost had to gouge my eyes out when I saw you.
Jean scowled and wrote back, It is hideous, but it is better than wearing black. He pressed Send, started to close out of his inbox, and hesitated when he understood the greater implication. He opened another message and said, It is too early in the year for the Ravens to watch USC s games.
He sat back and considered the clock. With the Nest closed, the Ravens should be living in real-world time this year, but Jean wasn t sure how Edgar Allan was handling their classes. Did they fire the Ravens dedicated professors or simply move them to a static, daytime schedule? It wasn t worth asking about when he and Sergio were on such thin ice, so he set to marking his other emails as Read. Halfway down, his inbox refreshed. A new message from Sergio now sat at the top.
Fuck USC, was the predictable response. Finn heard Zane visited you and wanted to see how it went down. On its heels, another email: First time I ve ever seen you look afraid of him, JOHNNY.
Jean shut down the system immediately.
-
F riday night was a home game against Las Vegas. Shawn resumed his rightful place on starting lineup, so Jean was left on the sidelines after the halftime break. Tanner ended up on one side of him, and Derrick and Derek on the other. The double-Ds were prone to hollering and hooting at every clever move, whereas Tanner saved his loudest cheers for the goals. Jean would surely be deaf by the time they let him on the court, but it helped distract him from the indignation of playing as a sub.
The Trojans took the game nine to four, and Jeremy slammed an energy drink before fighting Friday night traffic across town. His friends excitement did nothing to hide how long a drive it was, and Jean refused to believe Jeremy could tolerate this endless trek day after day for months. No wonder the man slept every time they let him out of class. He would surely be a ghost by the time championships started.
Either William had a way of tracking Jeremy s location, or he d been actively listening for the sound of his engine. He opened the door for them before they even reached the porch and offered both a polite greeting and the receiver for the house phone.
Missed her, Jeremy guessed.
William checked his watch. By thirty-seven minutes or so.
Mathilda Wilshire had called anywhere from one to three times every evening the Trojans were here, sometimes spacing her calls only a half-hour apart and once letting three hours slide between them. Jeremy managed to get off this call relatively quickly, and he returned the phone to William s waiting hand.
There is sparkling cider in the fridge, William said, and I ve set a snack tray on the counter. Do you need anything else?
I need you to enjoy your evening, Jeremy said. We re good, I promise.
Thank you for letting us stay this week, Laila added. We ll be gone tomorrow.
William smiled. Thank you for visiting. It is a rare treat to see Jeremy happy.
Jean glanced at Jeremy as William left, but Jeremy was already on his way to the kitchen. Between the four of them it was easy work to get their treats and drinks upstairs, and they sat on his carpeted bedroom floor to dig in. It had been a long day, but no one was in any hurry to sleep. Morning meant going back to that empty apartment and leaving Jeremy alone here, and Laila resisted that eventuality with everything she had.
Exhaustion finally dragged them under around two in the morning, and then Jean woke when William crept into the room. The butler roused Jeremy with a hand on his shoulder, and Jeremy heaved a weary sigh before taking the phone.
Morning, Mom, he said, voice gravely with sleep. Yes, I m still in bed, it s... Jeremy fumbled for his phone and squinted at its glow. ...not even six here. No real plans, just studying and working out. Xavier was talking about going for a run at the beach, so I might join him. Yeah, okay. Jeremy hung up, looked fit to fall asleep with the phone still in his hand, and groaned as he remembered to return it to William. Go back to sleep.
I will set up the coffee, William said instead.
Jean held his tongue until William was gone. She doesn t trust you.
Jeremy was quiet so long Jean thought he d gone under. Then: No, not yet.
It s been four years. Jean caught the sleeping bag when Jeremy looked ready to burrow under it and held on tight. If she doesn t know you enough to trust you now, she never will.
Jeremy s protest was soft: You don t know that.
Jeremy.
Let s not do this today, Jeremy said. Okay? Not today.
Jean let go and withdrew with a scowl. He thought his irritation might keep him up a bit longer, but once Jeremy dozed off it was easy enough to drift back under as well. That they were woken up two hours later by another phone call was not as surprising as it should be, but Mathilda only beat their alarms by a few minutes. Jeremy managed to sound alert for this call, and his voice was enough to wake Cat and Laila.
The four shuffled downstairs to find breakfast, and Jeremy practically clung to the coffee maker while it brewed. Jean smothered a yawn behind a heavy hand and silently resolved to reschedule his appointments to a later time slot. Ten had sounded reasonable at the time, but life kept getting in the way. He drank half the coffee Jeremy served him in one go, then pushed his pile of grated cheese toward Cat to add to breakfast.
Packing up was easy, and by a quarter to nine they were out the door. Jeremy dropped Laila and Cat off first, then took Jean over to his doctor. Jean suffered through the entire session before finally bringing up the schedule change, and he was directed to the front desk to hash it out with them. There was no afternoon or evening spot that wouldn t conflict with practices or games, but after some digging the receptionist managed to find a late morning slot on Sundays. Jean wasn t sure how that would work when Jeremy couldn t stay over on the weekend anymore, but he would figure something out.
Jeremy parked at the Lofts but didn t kill his engine. I wish I could stay and help.
Then stay, Jean said, knowing he couldn t.
Jeremy only sighed, so Jean let himself out of the car and went inside. As disconcerting as Jeremy s perfect house was, this place was equally offensive. The apartment was as empty now as it d been last weekend, and Jean could only imagine how quickly Laila s mood tanked when she walked in this morning. Jean had cash from the sale of his car, and Laila and Cat had received some money from their parents, but they d spent the week hiding at Jeremy s house instead of putting this place together.
Home? Cat called as she opened her bedroom door.
Home, Jean said. Shower.
He hated showering this close to therapy, but they had too much to do today for him to put it off. He was in and out as quickly as he could go, and he found the girls sitting in the middle of the living room when he was dressed. Cat texted Cody when they finally left the apartment, then again when they reached the dorms. They d be borrowing Cody s car this weekend, since Laila couldn t replace hers anytime soon. Cody showed them where it was parked before offering Laila the key ring.
Thank you, Laila said.
Keep it as long as you need it, Cody said. We can use Pat s if we need to go anywhere.
We ll have it back tomorrow, Laila promised.
They were out the rest of the day, to the point they had to pick up both lunch and dinner on the town. Laila drifted from thrift store to box store to the mall and back again, knowing she needed to outfit her new home but desperately craving pieces she could connect to. She had fewer opinions about bedroom sets than she did anything else, so they at least managed to get beds and dressers ordered with a next-week delivery.
Laptops for school were next, and Cat looked for a tower that could handle her games. Jean was quietly horrified by how much these things cost, but equally pleased that he could pay for his own things this time. He d been reliant on Cat and Laila for everything he needed since his arrival in California. It was nice to take this small burden from them, even if dire circumstances had brought them to this point.
Cat dragged Laila into a bookstore that afternoon, knowing she needed a pleasant distraction after the day s disappointing progress, and waited with Jean at the in-store caf until she was done. They lost another hour trying to further rebuild their wardrobes, during which Jean was mostly left to his own devices. Cat and Laila would occasionally wander over from the women s section to check on him, but they couldn t stay long when they also needed to be trying things on. Jean dug for familiar colors and styles, and finally carried his things over to the girls and their cart.
Starting to think blue is your favorite color, Cat said, inspecting his finds with obvious approval.
It is not, Jean said.
It s Jeremy s, Laila said as she draped an armload of hangers over one side.
Jean had figured that out, but he only offered a noncommittal, Hm.
I like pink, Cat said. Laila s is purple. What about you?
Jean frowned as he thought it over, gaze drifting over the assortment of clothes piled in their shopping cart. At last he settled on the only one that made sense: Brown. It was not the answer Cat was expecting, judging by her reaction, but Jean didn t waste his time explaining. Brown like the soil in Rhemann s garden, or the sand where the tide washed ashore, or the dirt roads Cat had led him down time and again. Brown like the gaze that sought Jean out in every room, but that last thought wasn t one he could linger on.
That s a first, Cat finally said, and added an obligatory, I like it.
Done here? Laila asked, looking around like she d forgotten something.
Yes, Jean said, so Cat pushed the cart to the front.
After that there was nothing to do but head home. Despite nine hours shopping, they came home with very little of substance. The only furniture Laila approved of were three lamps and two end tables. She arranged those endlessly while Cat got the curtains hung, and then precariously balanced a new TV on the larger table. The four movies she d picked up went on the ground beside it, and she stacked her books along the wall.
Shelves tomorrow, Laila promised. Desks, too. I guess we ll-
She cut herself off to stare across the apartment. Cat kept working for another minute before realizing something was wrong, and she stepped down off the stool to ask, What s wrong?
Jean was closer to the front door than she was, so he d heard it, too. A dog is barking.
Babe, Laila said.
Cat didn t need her to spell it out. She crossed the room to tug Laila into a brief, fierce hug. It s not a good idea, Laila. We ve got classes and practices and games. How could we possibly take care of an animal with our schedules? She searched Laila s face for understanding and tried, Who would walk it when we re gone with Away games?
A dog sitter, Laila said without hesitation.
Cat wasn t expecting that ready response. I just-let s just think about it, okay? Make sure we know what we re getting into.
You think about it, Laila said. I m going to bed.
Cat reluctantly let go of her, and Laila firmly closed the bedroom door behind her. Cat rubbed her temples before upending bags of clothes on the living room floor. Jean brought his over to join her, and for a few minutes they worked in silence. Stickers and tags were mercilessly stripped and crumpled, and finally Cat said, What do you think?
It is a mistake, Jean said.
Probably, Cat agreed. But they ve been talking about it for years, you know? A pup for Jeremy to keep and Laila to cuddle. But her uncle refused to budge no matter how many times she asked him about it.
Jean studied the look on her face and knew how this would end. Cat wanted to be the voice of reason, but she would pry the stars from the sky if Laila asked for them. Jean wrenched his last tag free with more force than it needed.
It is a mistake, Cat, Jean said again.
She didn t answer, and Jean had the sinking feeling he was going to lose this fight.
-
O n Sunday they returned Cody s car and collected Shawn s truck instead. Laila was determined to find more furniture today than she had the day before, but the first few stops frustrated her so badly they stopped for an early lunch at the mall. She sipped her boba tea in sullen silence and stared into the distance while Cat attempted to fill the silence as best she could. At last Laila pointed across the way toward a store and said, I m going to check again.
Yeah, sure. Cat waited until she d left before scrubbing a weary hand over her face. She hadn t finished her lunch, but Jean didn t think she would. She d been pushing the last few bites of curry listlessly around her paper plate for almost ten minutes now. The look on her face said she had something to say, but it took her another minute to find the words: I don t know how to help her.
Jean looked at the half-finished tea Laila left behind. If she doesn t like this apartment, maybe they will move us to the other.
Wouldn t solve anything, Cat said. She set her fork aside at last in favor of jabbing her straw into what little was left of her drink. She d surely bend it against the chunky ice taking up half her cup, but Jean held his tongue. I told you my family s from the bay area, yeah? Five generations born and raised in the same house. Wherever I go in the world, that s my home. That s my family. She pressed her fingers briefly to her heart.
Laila doesn t have roots, she said. She was born overseas, and her dad s career means he s got to move every couple of years. The only reason she came to LA was because she wanted to pursue Exy more seriously. Moved in with Gary at fifteen so she could attend a local high school. And he s a nice enough guy, don t get me wrong, but I think he likes Laila a lot more now that she s grown up and out of his house. Not really the family type. More a landlord than an uncle, yeah?
Jean nodded to show he was following along. Cat twisted to see if Laila was on her way back before continuing, I know she had an apartment after high school graduation, but she doesn t really talk about it except to say her neighbors were a problem. Must ve been a mess, because Gary overhauled the house that fall and let her move in over Christmas break.
It was the first place she could truly call home, and they took that from her, she finished, so soft Jean might have imagined it. They destroyed something she doesn t know how to lose.
A morose silence settled over the table, but Cat couldn t stand it for long. She gave a deafening clap and stacked her garbage onto her plate. Come on. Let s see if she found something she ll tolerate.
Jean carried Laila s drink so Cat could throw the trash away, and they crossed the hall to the home goods store Laila was wandering. Jean spotted her first, but as he was turning after her, his gaze caught on a nearby row of art. Cat stopped when he did, but Jean handed over the tea and motioned for her to go ahead.
As soon as she left, he turned down the aisle, and he stopped before a green and yellow painting halfway down. He picked it up, put it back, and picked it up again as he weighed Laila s potential reaction. Every piece of art she d had at the house had been an original work, most of them snatched up from estate sales and thrift stores, and this was obviously a mass-produced reproduction. He couldn t imagine she d want this, but he wasn t willing to leave it behind. He still hadn t made up his mind when Cat and Laila came looking for him a couple minutes later.
See anything you like? Cat asked.
Jean turned the painting toward them, earning a soft, Oh, from Cat. Laila crossed the aisle in record time with her hands out. Jean passed the frame to her and watched her trace the field of daffodils with a slow fingertip.
Jean held up his hand in case she wanted him to put it back. It is not the same.
No, Laila agreed as she hugged it to her chest, but it s a start.
Cat came over to kiss her, and Jean watched Laila s shoulders slowly relax as she leaned into it. They stood forehead to forehead for a minute after as Laila tended her thoughts, and finally Laila said, Okay. Let s go back for those shelves.
You sure? Cat said. I didn t think you liked them.
We ll make it work, Laila said, so Jean went in search of a cart.
They were only out a few more hours, but they made more progress that afternoon than they had the day before. Laila committed herself to filling the apartment with grim determination and made overdue concessions on most of the basic furniture. They came home with boxes of things that needed assembly and spent the early evening swimming in Styrofoam and ripped cardboard. Cat volunteered to take the truck back so she could pick up dinner, and Laila went out to the balcony for some fresh air.
Jean surveyed the room with a slow gaze. It was offensive, still, bare of the personal touches that would make it feel homey, but the daffodil painting on the wall was a silent promise they d get there eventually. He filled two glasses with water and took them out to where Laila was leaning against the railing. She looked tired but not as defeated as she had these last few days, and she watched strangers go by as she worked her fingers through her hair. Now and then she winced as she snagged on tangles.
Thank you, she said, giving up in favor of taking her drink from him.
He meant to leave her to her thoughts, but he set his glass by his feet and reached for her. Aware that he might be crossing one too many lines, he slipped his fingers into her dark curls and took over where she d left off. How often he d seen Cat and Laila brush each other s hair as a sign of affection; how readily she d tried to extend that same comfort to him while Andrew s trial was underway. He didn t know what else to offer her that would help her now. Four and a half months later she was still a bit of a mystery, half of Jeremy s whole and a little too smart.
You weren t born here, he said when she didn t shrug him off.
Laila hummed confirmation into her water. Capetown. Mom called me a happy accident. They d been talking about having kids for years but weren t sure it was a good idea considering my father s career. I came along anyway.
Jean could hear the smile in her voice. But only you.
No siblings by blood, but Jeremy s my brother in every way that matters, she said, quiet and warm. I love him more than life itself. I would do anything for him.
Jean s hands slowed as he turned her words inside out. He thought about Lucas and Grayson, Jeremy and Bryson, and Kevin and Riko. He thought of Derrick and Derek s shameless affection and of Tanner following him around like a little duckling of his own. He thought of Kevin calling him brother on Hannah s show, and the sour sting it d evoked then was a dull and lingering ache now. He thought of Noah and Elodie, and he had to close his eyes against his grief.
A brother is a complicated thing, he said.
Laila turned her head to say, You were a brother.
It wasn t a question, but Jean said, Yes.
He slowly separated her hair into sections. It d been years since he d done this for Elodie; he could barely remember how it was supposed to go. He tried and failed and tried again, until he got far enough to understand what he was doing. He worked Laila s hair loose before starting over, and this time he managed to get a loose braid to stay. He had nothing to hold it together at the end, so he pinched the tail between his fingers.
Laila reached up and felt the plait with careful fingers. Will you tell me about her?
I can t , he thought. It s too big; it s too much. He d buried her so deep he d surely fall in if he looked a little too long. But the braid in his hand was a rope back to sunlight and solid ground, so Jean said, She liked blackberries and sandcastles and ladybugs, but faerie tales most of all. He d read them so many times he didn t even need the books anymore, but Elodie loved staring wide-eyed at the pictures as he spoke. She prayed for a dragon to save her.
Laila s tone was gentle, like she thought he d retreat if she spoke too loudly. Not a prince?
A dragon could tear our house apart to free her and carry her far away. He didn t say, I wish one had , but he felt the truth of it in every aching heartbeat.
Laila stayed silent, buying him time to claw his way back from his memories. Only when he let go of her did she say, We could grow them here, if you want. She half-turned to study his face before realizing he couldn t follow her train of thought, and she nodded toward the open corners of their balcony. Blackberry bushes, I mean. I don t know anything about gardening, but we could learn.
Not blackberries, he said, because how could he eat them without thinking of home?
She accepted his rejection with an easy, Maybe something else, then.
Jean considered that. He had a feeling he knew the answer, but it worth a try anyway: Peaches are trees? Her nod had him grumbling discontent into his water, but he paused long enough to say, I will think about it.
Anything you want, Laila promised.
They stood side-by-side at the railing, tending their own thoughts as the world rushed on beneath them. A man went by with two gangly Dalmatians in tow, and Jean didn t miss the way Laila leaned out to watch them as long as she could. He thought of Cat s weakening resolve and Jeremy s tangible grief over Barkbark, and his determination to hold his ground as the bastion of common sense faltered.
It wouldn t be that big, he said. Laila turned a look of polite confusion on him, and he clarified, Your would-be dog. It wouldn t be that big.
It wasn t approval or agreement, but it put an unholy light in Laila s eyes. No.
He was going to regret this, but Jean looked away and said, Then do as you like.