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)
Jeremy looked him dead in the eyes and demanded, “Riko?”
Automatic, fierce, false: “He would never hurt me.”
“Tell me the truth.”
“It is the truth,” Jean snapped back.
“I’ll call Kevin,” Jeremy warned him. “I’ll ask him how he broke his hand. I’ll ask him who did it. What will he say to me?”
When Jean took too long to answer, Jeremy pulled his phone out. Jean went for it immediately, and Jeremy had to press it into the small of his back to get it out of Jean’s reach. Jean shoved him as hard as he could, and Jeremy couldn’t keep his balance. He stumbled back a few steps before falling hard to his ass.
For a moment he expected Jean to come after him, but even as he braced for violence, he knew it wouldn’t happen. A man who could hand-wave away every cruelty inflicted upon him as well-deserved wasn’t someone to fear; Jean was a starving dog on a short chain who’d learned years ago not to bite back. Jean would never hurt him. Jeremy knew it, believed it, with everything he had, so he painstakingly picked himself up and got back in Jean’s face.
“You and I both know what Kevin will say,” Jeremy said, “but I don’t want to hear it from him. I want you to tell me.”
“Stop asking me.”
“Riko’s dead,” Jeremy insisted, strident, and it hurt him to his bones to watch the way Jean recoiled. “What are you so afraid of? He can’t hurt you anymore.” Jean laughed, short and sharp, and Jeremy’s heart broke at the sound of it. “Jean, please.”
Jean dug trembling fingers into his temples and closed his eyes as he stepped back away from Jeremy. “Call him, then,” he said, “because I won’t. I won’t. I am Jean Moreau. I know my place. I am—”
He bit off whatever else he might have said, but the force it took to choke it back had his lips curling in a fierce snarl. Jeremy could only watch in wretched silence as Jean tried to walk himself back from the edge. He cast his phone aside in favor of catching Jean’s face in his hands, and the way Jean flinched at his touch was almost his undoing.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “Hey. Jean. Look at me.”
Jean refused, and Jeremy grasped desperately for anything that could bring Jean back to him. He seized on the only thing he could and threw Jean’s words back at him: “You are Jean Moreau. Your place is here with me, with us. I’m your captain. You’re my partner. We’re supposed to be doing this together, aren’t we? Stop leaving me behind. Look at me.”
It wouldn’t work, but it did. Jean opened his eyes to meet Jeremy’s stare. “I told you not to ask me about him.”
Jeremy slid his hands up to where Jean was drawing blood at his temples and wound their fingers together. “Then answer me like this, where no one else can hear. If he’s the one who hurt you, just give me a squeeze. That’s all you need to do. I won’t make you say it out loud, I promise.”
He felt a tremor in Jean’s hands, and for a blinding moment he was sure Jean would lean into the safety of this silent confession. But Jean only sucked in a slow breath and said, “Now I am not safe with you, captain.”
Letting go of Jean was the hardest thing Jeremy had ever done. Everything in him railed against this, and for a moment he regretted giving Jean a way out. They were so close to the truth he could taste it, or maybe that was his unsettled stomach threatening to tip over. Jeremy took a careful step back from Jean, then another to get out of arm’s reach before he forgot himself.
“Fine,” he said quietly, and he went to collect his phone.
Jean moved to stare out the window, arms folded tight over his chest, as Jeremy sat on the edge of his bed. He scrolled through his contacts for Kevin and checked the time before dialing out. It took a few rings, but Kevin answered with an easy “Hello” before it could click over to voicemail.
“I’m sorry,” Jeremy said, because he didn’t have the strength for small talk or a softer approach right now. “Did Riko break your hand?”
The silence that followed was profound. Jeremy wanted to make sure the call was still connected, but he was afraid to move his phone away from his ear and miss Kevin’s answer.
“That’s unexpected,” Kevin said at last. “And bold, for you.”
“That’s not an answer,” Jeremy said.
“Answer me first,” Kevin invited him. “Did Jean tell you?”
“No,” Jeremy said. Was that an implied confirmation? Jeremy flicked a look toward Jean’s back and the tense set of his shoulders. “He refuses to talk about what happened at Edgar Allan, so I’m left putting together the pieces from everything he won’t say. When he said the Ravens didn’t know why he was pulled from the lineup I made the only jump I could. But I don’t want you to tell me about Jean; I want him to tell me when he’s ready.”