“Fascinating.” Chloe scoots closer. “What song pops in your head when you see me?”
“ ‘Baby Got Back,’ ” she answers easily.
“Rude,” Chloe says, “but I’ll allow it.” I bite back a smile. “Okay, what song do you hear when you see Jules?”
Alex tosses the ball, catches it, and grips it tight. “Belinda Carlisle.”
“That’s not a song,” Chloe points out. “That’s a person.”
Alex doesn’t respond right away, and that’s okay. She doesn’t have to. I know all her favorite Belinda Carlisle songs. And every single possibility of an answer makes my heart beat faster. She doesn’t look at me. She tosses the ball again, content with not elaborating while I wonder what the hell it means.
Chloe takes a breath as if she’s going to say something right when the front door opens. Ms. Pestano’s voice carries up the stairs. “We’re home!”
Alex barely catches the ball before it hits her in the face, and we all scramble to race out of the room. We come skidding to a halt once we reach the top of the steps and see Mason standing at the bottom of the staircase.
He peers up at us while Ms. Pestano helps him take off his jacket and hands it to Richard. I can’t help but notice how skinny he looks, like he hasn’t eaten in days. He probably hasn’t. His hair is messy and unwashed, but even from here, I can see his brown eyes shine at the sight of us.
Alex leads the way down the stairs, and Chloe and I slowly follow. We hover when we reach the bottom, and Alex tenderly hugs her brother.
Ms. Pestano puts one arm over my shoulder and the other across Chloe’s. “Thanks for coming all this way and taking care of my girl.”
I nod because I will always be here for her. For all of them.
“You good?” Alex asks Mason, finally pulling away.
“I’m fine. Nothing a few IVs couldn’t fix,” he dismisses. “Just hungry and in need of a shower.”
“Why don’t you go ahead and get cleaned up, and maybe the girls can help me make you something to eat.” Ms. Pestano says it like it’s not a suggestion. I take the hint, more than happy to help.
“I’ll bring your bag up.” Richard grabs his duffel and heads up the stairs, patting Mason on the back fondly as he passes.
Chloe follows Ms. Pestano through the living room, but I hang back just a little longer, watching as Alex walks with Mason, her handhovering near his lower back, holding him steady just in case. He says something that makes her laugh, and my soul seems to relax at the sound of it.
When the homemade chicken noodle soup is finished, Ms. Pestano doing most of the work, Mason heads to the sofa, clean and in a fresh pair of pajamas. We let him pick what he wants to watch, and Chloe and I sit on either side of him. Alex finds a spot on the floor by my legs, and we’re so happy he’s okay that no one even teases him about choosing to watch something nerdy with swords and magic.
Mason lifts the blanket, inviting me and Chloe underneath to share. I snuggle close, glad to feel his warmth against my side, and I drop a kiss on his cheek. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
His grin is goofy and wide. “Are you kidding? This is the greatest day of my life.”
Alex rolls her eyes. “Oh my God.” She tosses a pillow in his direction, which he easily catches and puts behind his head.
He puts his arms around me and Chloe, and I rest my head on his chest. The sound of his heartbeat makes my eyes prickle. I catch Alex watching, a soft expression on her face. Chloe and I both need to be heading back to campus. Neither of us is excused from classes in the morning, but neither of us make a move to go. Not when Mason’s heart sounds strong and not with the grateful way Alex watches us.
Classes can wait. Family comes first.
Chapter Six
Alex
Mason plucks at his electric guitar, playing something that sounds vaguely familiar. It’s whimsical, like something out of one of his fantasy games that should be played on a lute rather than a Fender. I stare at him with my chin in my hand while I sprawl across his bed on my stomach, bored out of my mind. “Play ‘Hot Cross Buns.’ ”
He scrunches his nose and stops plucking. “Who the hell learns to play ‘Hot Cross Buns’ on the guitar?”
“Is it because you don’t know how?” I prod, indulging in one of my favorite pastimes: pestering him until he tosses me out. After getting a clean bill of health, I want to soak it in, grateful that I’m still able to. “We learned it on the recorder.”
He tucks the guitar under his arms and leans forward. “Don’t you have anything else to do? Like, I don’t know, go back to school?”
I shrug. “My professors excused me all week. I don’t have to go back until Sunday.”
