Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 117363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
“The Ravens never asked,” Jean said. “They knew it was not their business.”
“Presumably they could also guess where they were coming from,” Renee said, and Jean didn’t answer that easy accusation. Renee thought for a few moments longer before letting her hand fall away. “If you will not—cannot—tell them the truth, you could settle for making them uncomfortable enough not to pry,” she suggested. When Jean only looked at her, she lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. “Imply they are older than Evermore, for example. Family inflicted.”
It would be bold from anyone else, but Renee had told him stories of her parents back in February, and Jean had been honest enough to admit he hated his parents in return. He hadn’t gone into details, and she hadn’t pressed, but if she knew how he ended up in Riko’s care she could likely guess what line of work his parents were in.
“Will that be enough?” Jean asked.
“I’m fairly sure,” Renee promised. “People tend to get unsettled when the abuse comes from inside the house.”
Jean considered that. “I will trust you.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Renee asked, “Would you like me to stay with you until you fly out?”
Jean thought it over for a full minute before saying, “I don’t think so.”
Renee nodded as if she’d expected that. There was a sweetness to her that was both sad and beautiful, and for a moment Jean ached with the cruelty of it all. He thought about her driving all night to reach Edgar Allan after he texted her and of her turning Andritch against his own star team with an unflinching threat of retribution. He thought of her stopping by Abby’s place week after week to sit with him so he wasn’t alone, of her unwavering faith in him to do better and be better, of her calling him from West Virginia desperate to protect him in the wake of Riko’s execution.
He thought of Evermore, of years wandering windowless black halls. Heavy checks and hungry hands and too-sharp knives and again again again at practices that dominated most of his day. He thought of Kevin whispering French in dark corners and of drowning. A promise made on his behalf without his consent, a death that broke and changed everything, and a ticket to a fresh start he didn’t deserve but which he needed if he was supposed to stay alive long enough to be worth something.
I am Jean Moreau, he thought, and then: Who is Jean Moreau when he is not a Raven?
It was a question that needed answering and a problem she couldn’t help him with. It left a bitter ache in him not unlike a bruise, but Jean knew better than to think it could work out any other way. Maybe it was unkind to reach out for her after that rejection, but Jean gave in to temptation and tucked her hair behind her ear. She took hold of his hand so she could press a kiss into his palm, and he watched the easy way her fingers slipped between his.
“We are the right people, I think,” she said as she studied him. “This is just… the wrong time. If you stayed, perhaps it would be different, but I know you won’t. I know you can’t,” she corrected herself. “It would be unfair to ask you to and cruel of me to complicate your journey.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it.
“Don’t be,” Renee said, so calm and earnest he had to believe her. An alarm chimed in her pocket, but Renee pulled her phone out and silenced it without looking. “I only want what is best for you, and right now that isn’t us. If you need a clean slate when you move so you can leave all of this behind you, I will understand, but I am always here if you need me.”
Thank you felt appropriate, but all Jean managed was, “I know.”
When he motioned to her phone in a question, she got to her feet. “A reminder for my last exam,” she said. She stood in front of him a moment, gazing down at his upturned face with a distant look on her own, and then reached up to undo the clasp of her cross necklace. Jean put his hand up for it and watched light glint off the silver chain as it settled in a pile in his hand. Too many years in the Nest had left his childhood faith in shreds, but he closed his fingers over it anyway. Maybe it was his imagination that he felt her warmth clinging to the metal; somehow it was still comforting.
She smiled, slow and sure and brilliant, and said, “I’m so proud of you for making it this far. I’m excited to see how far you can go from here when you can finally spread your wings without fear. Fly safe, Jean. We will see you on the court in finals.”