Page 34 of The Music of Us
But besides that, Jake looked... sad. Really sad. There was something else about his gaze too—a sort of heaviness that settled in his eyes as he looked at me.
Was thatregret?
“I should’ve guessed you being against bad boys in real life would automatically make you dislike Jake, Lucy,” Amber admitted. “Like, no matter how many times that new tough guy at school asked you out last year, you always turned him down. You went to the football game with Thomas instead.”
“Thomas?” Jake asked, something I couldn’t put my finger on in his voice. “Thomas—wait, Tommy Fields?Him?”
“Yes, him.” I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. Why would Jake care?
“He’s like the fourth guy I’ve heard mentioned since I got here.”
“You’re keeping count?”
“I just don’t understand what’s so special aboutTommy.”
Amber glanced between us, as if sensing something but not understanding it. “What’s going on?”
I wish I knew.
Before Jake or I could answer, Mom appeared in the doorway behind the counter.
“Oh!” She did a double take, staring at the boy next to me. “Ja— Sylvester?”
Curiously enough, Jake corrected his posture like he was in line for inspection. “Uh, hi, Ms. Melrose, ma’am.”
A faint hint of his old Southern accent caught my attention, winking out from between the consonants. It distracted me, filling me with wistfulness, like a song I hadn’t heard in years.
What had Jake told me at breakfast? That his accent only came out when he was really excited or nervous and not watching how he phrased things?
Why would seeing my mom make him nervous?
Mom moved, hobbling out from behind the counter slightly to lean against the edge, bringing her crutches into view. Jake’s eyes widened in surprise before narrowing for a moment. He looked over at me, as if to silently ask,Why didn’t you say anything?
I don’t know, why didn’t you for four years?
“What a surprise, Sylvester,” Mom said, an amused smile on her face as she used his nickname. “But you know I’ve told you to call me Diana.”
He nodded seriously. “I do.”
“Hmm. You still have those Southern manners, I see. Glad to know LA didn’t breed those out of you completely.”
“Key word beingcompletely,” I muttered under my breath, because since when did Southern manners include trespassing into fountains? Jake side-eyed me.
Amber squinted at the two of us. “How long have you two known each other? Have I seen pictures of you guys together on the adoption board or something? Because, Sylvester, you look really fa—”
“He’s on the board,” I interrupted. It wasn’t a lie. Besides his somewhat blurred background appearances in several photos, one time Jake helped me matchmake a grumpy old tabby with a sweet little old lady and Mom took a photo of the four of us for her photo collage of successful adoptions. “Besides, he’s just got one of those faces.”
Amber gave me a look, the expression on her face so clear I could practically hear her playfully sarcastic voice in my head saying,If by “one of those faces,” you don’t mean “looks like your average guy next door,” and more like “one of those faces that could’ve caused a war in ancient Greece.”
I rolled my eyes at her. Whatever.
“Okay, this has been great,” I said, clapping my hands with an air of finality, “but I’m taking Syl into the cat room now.”
“Nice seeing you again, Diana,” Jake said, accent fading a bit as he waved to Mom.
“It was nice seeing you too, Sylvester,” Mom replied, giving him a look. “It’s been far too long. It’s good you’re back now. Sorry everyone hates you.”
Jake blinked at her. “What?”
