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)
Jeremy helped arrange the drinks along the edge of his desk, then laughed as he accepted a bowl of popcorn. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“I will add it to my resume when I next petition Mathilda for a raise,” William said, tucking his tray under his arm.
Jeremy didn’t miss the considering look William turned on Jean, and he gestured between them. “William, this is Jean Moreau. Jean, this is William Hunter, my mother’s live-in butler. He’s been with our family for almost twenty-six years now. Longer than any of us kids,” he added. “I’m not exaggerating when I say he’s the linchpin of this household.”
“Imagine how many embarrassing stories he knows,” Cat said to Jean. “Unfortunately, he’s too loyal to be bribed.”
William smiled. “I apologize for not introducing myself on your previous visit, Mr. Moreau. Please feel free to make yourself at home and let me know if you require anything while you are here.” To Jeremy he said, “I will be downstairs until you need me.”
“It’s late,” Jeremy said. “You shouldn’t be working. I promise we won’t bother you.”
William left with a polite good-night, and Jeremy passed the popcorn over to his friends. They’d get butter on his sheets for sure, but Jeremy couldn’t care. They were here; that was all that mattered. They stayed up far too late, laughing and flinging fistfuls of popcorn at each other, and only called it a night when Jeremy couldn’t stop yawning.
Jeremy ceded his bed to Laila and Cat and stole a sleeping bag so he could stretch out next to Jean on the carpeted floor. He worried Jean’s thoughts would catch him with no conversation to distract him, but Jean looked more pensive than distressed as he settled down for the night. Jeremy listened for Laila’s breathing to even out and Cat’s quiet snores to start before nudging Jean with a careful hand.
“Are you all right?” Jeremy asked.
Jean thought it over for a bit before saying, “I carry some of the blame for this. Yes,” he said, when Jeremy started to protest. “I asked Coach Wymack how I could protect you, and Thea was his answer. He only dragged her into this because I asked him to, and she knew exactly how to break them.” Jean gestured helplessly before offering a slow and careful, “I am not sorry. Perhaps I should be. But I will choose you every time. You, and Cat, and Laila, every time. I will lose them all if I must.”
Cat stirred with a sleepy query. Jean reassured her with an easy dismissal, then rolled onto his other side. Jeremy was left staring at the back of his head, heart pounding so loud Jean had to hear it. His head was an echo chamber, spinning Jean’s words out of context on endless repeat. He should say something, but Jeremy was afraid to open his mouth. He wasn’t sure what might come out.
At last he managed a weak, “Good night, Jean,” as he tugged the sleeping bag up over his head.
It’d be a miracle if he got any sleep tonight, and Jeremy prayed he wouldn’t dream.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Jean
Wednesday 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.”