I don’t bother answering because, honestly, she’s not wrong.
Lou tilts her head, studying me, the teasing relaxing into warmth. “You called me Lulu,” she says. “You haven’t done that in years.” A small smile curves at her mouth. “Andyou asked for a favor, which you never do.” Her voice drops. “You’ve got me curious. What’s up?”
I tell her about Becky the way I handle everything else, clear, reduced to facts. No emotion.
Lou doesn’t interrupt. She listens, the way she always has. When I’m done, she studies me, her expression changing from amused to thoughtful. “So,” she says, drawing the word out slightly, “what made you bring her home?”
“The dorms are incompetent.”
She nods, like she expected that answer. “And that’s the only reason?” Lou watches me. “You don’t usually involve yourself, not unless you have to.”
“I had to,” I say without hesitation. I take another sip of coffee, letting the heat burn, before I speak again. “She was alone,” I say, quieter now as the image returns of Becky’s flushed skin, her breathing too shallow, the way no one understood how close she was to slipping away.
“You should’ve seen her,” I add, my voice roughening despite myself. “She was that sick, and no one noticed. No one cared. No one stepped in.”
I take another sip, slower now, trying to force my anger down, but it doesn’t fully go.
Lou nods, her expression softening. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “I know what that looks like.”
I clench the mug. “I’m talking about Becky.”
“Of course,” she says easily. “That’s what I meant.”
I glance at her, long enough to make the boundary clear.
“She’s safer now.” I don’t question it. “Where I can keep an eye on her.”
Lou’s mouth curves, “Because that doesn’t sound possessive at all.” She softens it with a hint of a smile, but her eyes stay on me. “And I’m not sure anyone would call Ashford House safe. Not for someone like her.”
I grit my teeth, irritation rising fast.
“Are you going to help me,” I ask, my tone flattening, “or not?”
“What exactly doyou want?”
“For you to keep her here, at Rosewood Hall.”
“Hold up,” Lou says, putting her coffee cup down as her eyebrows hit her hairline. “You want me to take her in? To bringyourBecky here? To Rosewood Hall to live?”
I cross my ankle over my knee and send her a glare. “She’s notmyBecky andyes. That’s what I want.”
“But Carrson,” Lou says, shaking her head so hard her earrings swing, “you know I can’t do that. She’s not a Sister. Not a Daughter of The Order.”
I prop my chin in my hand. “I know, but there must be some way.”
Lou leans forward, so close it makes me tense, but I don’t back up. I know she won’t hurt me. Of all the brothers and sisters I grew up with, she was always the nicest. The only one who treated me like I was normal, one of them.
A mischievous smile plays on Lou’s lips. “Unless you bond her—”
“Stop.” The word comes out harsher than I mean, my hand lifting automatically like I can physically cut the idea off. “I’m not bonding her.Ever.” I glance at her. “She’d drive me insane. You’ve never met anyone so stubborn.”
Lou smiles at that. Not teasing anymore. Fond. She leans in a little, closer than most people would dare. “Maybe that’s exactly what you need,” she says quietly. “Someone who doesn’t back down.” Her eyes meet mine, “Someone who treats you like you’re…you.”
“That’s ridiculous. I can’t bond her,” I say, quieter now. “Or anyone.” I focus on the ground between my shoes, tracing cracks in the pavers with the tip of a shoe. A long pause before I add, “I’d be bad at it.”
Lou’s gaze is on me, but I refuse to meet it.
“Carrson—”
