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)
Jean hesitated only a few steps inside to consult his notes again. “Fifth floor.”
Jeremy pressed the call button for the elevator. This time of day it was quick to arrive. Jean started to follow Jeremy on, only to retreat as soon as he was two steps into the car. Jeremy was so startled he almost didn’t catch the doors in time, but he managed to shove them back open and rejoin Jean in the lobby. Jean looked rattled as he watched the doors slide closed.
“I will take the stairs,” he said. “You go.”
Jeremy looked from him to the lift. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were claustrophobic.” Jean didn’t answer, so Jeremy looked around for a sign. “Over here,” he said, and pushed open the door that would let them into the stairwell. Flight after flight they made their way up, and Jeremy let them into a pleasantly boring waiting room drenched in white and cream. Jean hesitated with one hand on the door like he was considering going back downstairs before finally checking in at the front desk.
Jeremy found them a spot to sit and asked, “Checkup?”
“No.” Jean clenched his hands together and pinned them between his knees. Jeremy took the hint and let it drop, but Jean grudgingly explained, “Dobson cannot teach me how to swim again from so far away. She arranged a referral to a local specialist.” He frowned down at the floor as he thought, but the best he managed was a hesitant, “Exposure therapy?”
He was here to see a psychiatrist, Jeremy realized, but Jeremy’s surprise was quickly washed away beneath a dizzying warmth. Jean had been forced into therapy against his will when the Ravens started spiraling, and he’d rebelled against that by sitting silent as the grave on his weekly calls to Dr. Dobson. Jeremy wasn’t sure what had inspired him to finally talk to her, but it left him buzzing with equal parts hope and relief.
He didn’t realize he’d reacted until Jean scowled at his hands and said, “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Can’t I be proud of you?” Jeremy asked. “It’s not easy asking for help.”
“No. You should be annoyed that I’ve missed so many workouts this summer,” was the sullen response. The elevator dinged as another patient arrived, and Jeremy didn’t miss the way Jean’s shoulders went tense. Every inch of him screamed readiness to get out of here, but Jean held his ground and stayed where he was. “I am Jean Moreau. I am perfect Court. I refuse to end this year as second line, but I can’t even participate in practices twice a week.”
“You haven’t been idle,” Jeremy pointed out. “You’ve found other ways to fill the time.”
Jean ignored him. Jeremy accepted his temporary defeat and flipped through his guidebook in search of where he’d left off Thursday night. All the coffee and the joy seeped out of him by three sentences in, and Jeremy swallowed a sigh when he realized he was already skimming without reading. He went back to the start and marked the line with his finger, trying to force himself to read along. Progress was a little better this time, up until he had to turn the page and Jean said,
“Wilshire.”
Jeremy checked the waiting room instinctively, but he saw no one he recognized. Jean slanted a look at the LSAT guide and said, “The senator is a Wilshire. Your mother took the name; Cat called her such. But you are a Knox.”
“For better or worse, yes.” Jeremy slowly flipped the book closed. “I kept my father’s last name when Mom remarried. Back then I think it was about holding onto the family I wanted us to be, but then it was this, I don’t know, teenage rebellion kind of thing.” Jean’s quiet snort gave his opinion of that, and Jeremy couldn’t help but laugh. “Is it so surprising? I’ll have you know I’m Mom’s biggest headache.”
Jeremy studied the painting hanging across from them as he mulled it over. “I never want to be a Wilshire, but if I’m honest, this hasn’t worked out much better.” Too many people wielded ‘Knox’ as an insult, a reminder he would never fit in with his family. “I’ve thought about changing it to something new, but I’m not sure if it would jumble my college stats to have them logged under two different surnames. Besides, I don’t know what I’d change it to. Maybe I’ll put together a poll for graduation and let the floozies vote on it.”
“Deny a vote to whomever named the dog,” Jean said.
Across the room the receptionist called, “Jean?” and Jean’s expression went blank as he got to his feet. Jeremy watched until he was through the back door to where the offices were, then opened his study guide once more.
He got more napping done than reading; no amount of caffeine could counter how wretchedly boring this chapter was. Each time he stirred he saw new faces in the room. The last time he woke it was to the quick touch of fingers to his temple. Jean only lingered a moment to make sure he was awake before heading for the exit. He was two flights down by the time Jeremy entered the stairwell, moving at a pace that should have had him tripping forward into a broken neck, and Jeremy ran to catch up. Jean made it all the way to the car before finally collapsing into a crouch.