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)
“That would be a first,” was all she said.
The only other Fox called on to testify that week was Nicholas Hemmick, who got into a spectacular confrontation with his parents when they arrived at the courthouse the same morning. Security had to practically body him up the stairs, but it set the tone for the rest of the day. The press continued to dutifully spy on the courthouse and report back names, but Jeremy recognized no one else. Character witnesses, he assumed, who could vouch for Aaron Minyard. The odd one out was the girl reported as Aaron’s girlfriend, a cheerleader who’d been notably absent the first day but showed up every single day after that.
Jean’s quiet, “No verdict,” distracted Jeremy from his endless scrolling on Wednesday.
Jeremy glanced up, looking first to Laila where she was reading in her chair, then to Jean where he was supposedly watching a match on the far end of the couch. It was the first time all week Jean acknowledged what was happening with the Foxes. Jeremy had wondered if it was apathy or avoidance, considering Aaron was on trial for murdering a rapist, but he’d resisted asking. This felt like an answer a few days too late, and Jeremy set his phone aside.
“Not yet,” he admitted. “Maybe tomorrow?”
Laila set her book aside and left. Jeremy wondered if he should follow, but she was back less than a minute later with her brush. She lightly bopped Jean on the head with it before retaking her seat and saying, “Come here.” When Jean just stared at her, not following, she pointed an imperious finger at the ground in front of her. “Sometime today, preferably.”
Jean was clearly suspicious of her intentions, but he settled on the floor in front of her. As soon as she put the brush to his unruly black hair, he tried to take it away. “I can do this myself.”
“I know you can,” she said, moving it out of his reach.
“It’s almost grown out,” he said next, thinking perhaps that was what was bothering her. Despite that sullen defensiveness, he reached for the spots that had been so jarringly mismatched when he moved to California in May.
“Barely noticeable,” she agreed. When Jean didn’t drop his hand, Laila batted at him and said, “You see me and Cat do this with each other all the time. Watch your game and stop overthinking it.”
Jean reluctantly subsided, and Laila set to work. Judging by the tense line of his shoulders, Jean spent the next several minutes trying to sort out her motives instead of watching the match. If Laila noticed, she gave no sign of it: at an outward glance she was completely focused on the Trojans’ match. Only the lack of a smile at a spectacular save from Cat gave her away. Jean’s silence was equally telling, and finally Laila couldn’t take it. She set the brush aside in favor of working her hands through his hair instead.
“If you don’t learn how to relax, you’re going to snap in half,” Laila said. “Tell me about the match.”
“You’re watching it,” Jean pointed out.
“I’m obviously distracted.”
Jean grumbled a bit in annoyance but obediently started breaking down the match thus far: reiterating and expanding on some earlier observations, then moving to real-time commentary as things started heating up on the screen. It still took the rest of the period for Jean to forgive the feel of her hands on his head; every time she shifted her grip his shoulders tightened for a blow that never landed. Only in the last minute of play did he stop noticeably reacting. Laila sighed and leaned forward, winding her arms around his shoulder in a slow hug.
“You’ll be the death of us, Jean Moreau.”
“I won’t let me be,” Jean said. He offered her the remote over his shoulder and said, “I will not watch the rest.”
An unsubtle attempt to escape her, but Laila knew to cut her losses. She took the remote and freed him, and Jean left without looking back.
The Trojans were halfway through a scrimmage Thursday afternoon when the news broke: Aaron Minyard had been cleared of all charges. Rhemann stepped onto the court to let them know, and Jeremy was off the court to message Kevin as soon as he got the okay to leave. He had to go all the way back to the locker room to find his phone, and he tossed his gloves aside halfway there so he could handle the tiny buttons.
“Just heard the news—that’s fantastic! We’re so happy for him!!”
Kevin’s response took only a minute: “Unexpected, if I’m being honest.” Then, “Andrew would have burned the judge’s house to the ground if he turned on Aaron. Maybe he knew that?” Jeremy idly wondered if that was a joke. He was halfway through a reply when Kevin sent, “They’ve been a nightmare to deal with all month with this hanging over them. I’m glad it’s finally over.”