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)
“I will need to change before we leave,” Jean said. “Give me a moment.”
Jeremy moved in his path when Jean started for the door. “Jean, stop.”
“Let me by,” Jean said. “I’m cold.”
“Please talk to me.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“He hurt you,” Jeremy insisted, and Jean was fleetingly grateful that Jeremy refrained from saying Grayson’s name. Jean made a dismissive gesture and tried to push past, but Jeremy doggedly stepped in front of him again. “You are very obviously not okay, so please stop pretending like we can just ignore what’s happening to you.”
“Stop looking if it is going to bother you,” Jean said. He wasn’t sure if that was disapproval or hurt tugging at the corner of Jeremy’s mouth, and Jean forced himself to try and put it into better words. “The Ravens knew it was not their business, and they knew better than to dwell on it. It would be better for all of us if you would do the same.”
Jeremy’s response was low but unhesitating: “I will not look away.”
“I do not want you to look.”
It frightened him how much it sounded like a lie, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it before the door opened to admit Rhemann. The head coach had his mouth open, but he hesitated when he took in Jean’s drowned rat appearance. After a beat he motioned for them to follow, but he caught Jeremy’s eye as he turned away and said, “Get him a towel. We’ll be in medical.”
They had to pass the remaining Trojans on the way: Cat and Laila, of course, and then Travis and Haoyu. Jean assumed the latter two were the ones he’d nearly barreled over earlier; they were Lucas’s roommates in the summer dorm and were stuck here waiting for a resolution the same way the girls were. A sharp gesture from Rhemann warned the group to silence as he went by, and Jean kept his stare on Rhemann’s back as he followed.
Lucas and Lisinski were in the first office, so Rhemann waved Jean into the second. Jeremy must have run, because he caught up with them before Rhemann had the door more than halfway closed. Jeremy passed a towel over but held onto the knob, and Rhemann knew what that tense look on his face meant. He looked over to Jean and said,
“Your call. In or out?”
Jean answered with an immediate, “Out.”
Jeremy had no choice but to retreat, and Rhemann closed the door. Jean took the towel that was offered and sat where Rhemann pointed. Jean hadn’t even realized there was a clock in here, but now he could hear its secondhand ticking. Maybe it was a watch. He hadn’t owned one in years, but he checked his wrists anyway. All he found were the jagged lines of Grayson’s teeth. He wound the towel around his arm so he wouldn’t have to see it.
Rhemann worked his way around the room, opening and closing drawers in search of the bandages and antiseptics he would need. Jean tried to take them from him, but Rhemann’s stony stare had him dropping his hand and sitting silent. Rhemann dragged a stool over and set to work, starting with Jean’s wrist. After he was done cleaning and wrapping it, he had Jean test his range of movement. It ached, but Jean could rotate his hand and flex his fingers, and that was enough to settle some of the lingering ice in Jean’s chest.
“Talk to me,” Rhemann said as he dabbed at Jean’s face.
“I do not know what you want me to say, Coach.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, Coach,” Jean said. “I can still play.”
“That isn’t what I asked you.”
He gave Jean a minute to come up with something better, and the silence was worse than his questions. Jean jiggled his leg to shake his thoughts out of alignment, knowing he was giving himself away with that restlessness but unable to stop. He finally had to cover his bandages with his free hand so he could stop staring at them.
“Coach, please tell me what to say. I promise I will make it right.”
“I don’t want you to make it right,” Rhemann said, sitting back a bit to stare at him. “I want to know that you’re okay.”
That was easy enough. “I’m okay, Coach.”
Maybe not so easy, because Rhemann looked stuck somewhere between incredulity and pity. Jean forced himself to stillness. That best attempt at a serene front was all that saved him when Rhemann shook his head and set to work on Jean’s throat.
Jean looked to the far wall, where one of the nurses had hung up a framed black & white photograph of a lone boat in a harbor, and put himself as far away from here as he could. He thought of riding up the coast with Cat. He thought about the wall of photographs at the Foxhole Court. He thought of postcards and magnets destroyed by furious teammates, and Jean’s control gave a threatening creak. He swallowed hard against a rush of nausea.