“I will be here when you’re done.”
I climb out of the car and leap up the steps to Blooming Grove. The main doors release with a gust of cool air, and Nithroel’s got her arm stuck out over the desk already, a visitor pass in one hand.
“Courtyard garden,” she says by way of greeting. “Martha’s been trying to ply him with tea all morning.”
I stagger to a halt in front of the desk, reaching for the badge.
Hordon. Nithroel. Martha.
I wonder if Thio realizes he isn’t as alone as he’d thought.
Just like me.
Dad’s face flashes in my mind. His earnestness.
My smile is soft. “Thanks, Nithroel.”
She smiles back. “We’re not sure what’s happened, but—” She releases the badge to me. “Make sure he’s okay, yeah?”
I pin the badge to the collar of my shirt. I’d shucked my jacket during Hordon’s Fast & Furious impression down Broad Street, and I spear my fingers through my hair; it’s probably a lost cause at this point.
“Of course,” I promise her.
Blooming Grove is quiet this morning. I weave through the pristine halls, nodding at staff I recognize now, a few residents, too.
Outside, the courtyard is picture-perfect in springtime bloom. A massive willow tree dominates the space, with vibrant flowerbeds framing the area and a pond nestled in the back corner. A few wrought-iron tables are clustered around, two other residents and their guests settled in them, but my eyes immediately go to the tree, to Thio’s mom’s favorite spot.
She’s in a wheelchair, a blanket tucked around her lap, her head tipped as she stares up at the tree. Thio sits next to her, his back to me, one arm propped on the armrest to cradle his jaw, legs spread and knee bouncing.
Sweat breaks out across my palms, but I curl my fingers tight, release them, and make my way across the lawn.
The tree boughs rustle as I part them.
Thio glances up.
And shoves to his feet.
He’s wearing the same jeans and T-shirt he had on yesterday, his hair in a bun that’s unwashed messy, not intentionally messy.
The pinches of sorrow that’ve been grabbing me all morning convene at once, and I want nothing more than to hold him.
His mouth bobs open. “Sebastian. I can—”
“Just a sec. I’m here to see your mom.”
He freezes, surprise knocking him off-balance.
I kneel next to her. Her eyes drift to me, away.
“Hey, Dr. Holmes,” I say. “I wanted you to be the first to hear how the presentation went this morning.”
Thio sucks in a breath.
“It was fantastic,” I tell her. “Our research was well-received.Ourresearch, because despite your son’s misguided decision to drop out, I gave him credit for the paper anyway. The questions that the audience posed were all reasonable and expected, nothing that undid all our work, thank gods. So, once our paper is fully reviewed by the Mageus Committee, your son will graduate after solving your research project. That wasn’t part of our presentation, but he probably didn’t tell you: we figured out a solution to your topic because he’s fucking brill—sorry, cussing—he’sbrilliant,and I know you’re proud of him.”
I finally look up at Thio.
His eyes are tearing, chest heaving in tight, apprehensive jerks.
