The Same Place (The Lamb and the Lion #2) - Gregory Ashe Page 0,32
If you’re interested.”
“Blow me,” Jem said. And then, “Who?”
“I’ll have to do a little digging. It was so long ago,” her eyes ran up him, “and you’re all grown up now. Really a man, now, Princess Jemma. Mmm. And those arms. Although I heard that your time in corrections gave you a taste for something else. Is that right? Such a waste.”
“You’re full of shit.”
“If it’s who I’m thinking of—if I’m right, I mean—you’ll be able to recoup whatever you think is fair. And they’ll pay a good bit on top, too, just to keep it out of the news, I’d bet.”
Jem looked over his shoulder at the entry hall, the front door. And then his gaze moved back to LouElla.
“I just need,” she said, rattling the ice, “a little favor first.”
12
Sunday night, Tean didn’t sleep. He kept thinking of Ammon. They had ended things—more accurately, Tean had ended things—months ago. He hadn’t seen Ammon. He hadn’t wanted to talk to him. He’d changed places he liked to go, convinced—hoping?—that Ammon would try to track him down. The changes had been easy because Jem had been there, a part of Tean’s life, showing up one day to force Tean to watch 90s sitcoms and another day to make him go try a new taco place. And, of course, every day, without fail, showing up for reading lessons. And all of that had helped, made it bearable. He only ever thought about Ammon on long nights when the phone calls came, when the moon shone too brightly through the blinds and Tean considered, again and again, if he’d made a mistake.
And then Ammon had been there, tonight, back in Tean’s life like a stroke of lightning.
Jem’s face: the anger, the suspicion, and something that Tean wanted to call hurt.
Near dawn, he dragged himself out onto the balcony. Wrapped in an old camping blanket, he sat and watched the slow dissolve of night. A part of him bent, as always, toward the mountains. In the half-light of morning, they hung before him like clouds, like smoke, a blue haze that a strong wind could drive away.
After his tea and a walk with Scipio, he went to work. He settled in to look at the canine distemper reports again. Miguel, one of their conservation officers on the east side of the state, had sent an email to let Tean know about the increasing number of coyote deaths linked to distemper that were being reported on the Wasatch Back. The question written in invisible ink was: What are you doing about this? Tean went back to the research; he needed an answer to that himself.
A little past eight, Hannah came into his office, a whirlwind of Merrells and cargo pants and chestnut hair. “Phone,” she said.
“What?”
“Give me your phone. Unlocked, please.”
“Ok,” Tean said, passing it over. “Hannah, we need to talk about last night. I think Jem and I might know what’s been going on, and I don’t think you’re going to like it.”
“Don’t want to hear it,” Hannah said. “Don’t want to know about it. I’m done with that. I’m done fighting with Caleb. I’m forgetting anything happened. I’m forgetting we ever even talked about it.” Her eyes were too bright. She was talking too high and too fast. “Did anything happen with you and Jem over the weekend?”
“What? No.”
“You were in a car together for two days. You didn’t accidentally grab a potato chip at the same time or bump heads when you leaned in for the same can of Dr. Pepper or both say the exact same answer to the same question at the exact same time?”
“No. And I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why would I be drinking Dr. Pepper?”
“You didn’t even kiss?”
“No. We’re just friends. Normal, regular friends. Do you have any idea how much sugar Dr. Pepper has? And my teeth are already probably going to fall out just because that’s how my great-grandmother was. I don’t need any extra sugar.”
“Fine. If you’re not going to kiss him, and you’re not even going to have a cute, rom-com close encounter with him, then it’s time to get things moving.”
“You seem really, um, up today, Hannah. What’s going on?”
“We’re getting you on a dating app. Smile.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Yes. It’s time. Smile, please.”
“Hannah—”
“I’m taking the picture whether you want me to or not, so you might as well make it a good one.”
Tean stared at his phone, which was currently betraying him.