Page 65 of Rescue

“Oh, God,” Cash says. “A museum. Because I wasn’t exhausted enough.”

Lennon and Paige either don’t hear him or they choose to ignore him. Paige is still watching Lennon, smiling, when he turns to face her. “This is what you picked for me?”

She nods. “I know that you were really looking forward to the art here, and you haven’t had a chance to go to a single museum with all your rehearsing.” For one moment she looks less sure. “I did a lot of research. I know that the Louvre is, like, totally famous. But I did a Google image search, and all the paintings seemed… well.” She clears her throat. “I know they’re, like, classics, and everything, but they didn’t really seem like you.”

He smiles. “They didn’t?”

Paige shakes her head. “They were all… Oh, I don’t know. Old and stuffy. Portraits and religious stuff and… I don’t know. It didn’t feel like you.”

“But the Musee d’Orsay did?”

“Oh, yes. I read that this is the Impressionist museum, and that seemed much more your thing. And the building itself is supposed to be great, all open and beautiful and full of light. Perfect for you.”

Lennon lets out a self-deprecating little snort. “You think that’s me?” His voice is full of laughter. “What’d you say? Beautiful and full of light? That doesn’t really sound like it describes me, Paige.”

Paige doesn’t laugh. She just looks up at him, her face serious. “It describes your heart.”

I expect him to snort again, to make some little joke at his own expense, something about her being overly dramatic, but instead he snaps his mouth closed, swallowing a few times. Then he reaches over and squeezes her hand, and I suddenly feel like I’m invading a private moment. I duck back over the seat and stare out the window at the glass dome of the building in front of us. “Thank you, Paige,” Lennon whispers, his voice very rough.

“You’re welcome. Now are we going in or are we going to sit out here all night?”

He laughs, and I hear the door open. “After you.”

I don’t know how much of that conversation his brothers heard, but I figure they might have gotten the gist of it because none of them says another disparaging word about spending their evening in an art museum as we make our way through the pavilion to the glass door. “Are you sure it’s open, babe?” Reed asks. “Looks pretty empty.”

“Oh, I had the label call the museum,” Paige says easily. “We have it to ourselves tonight.”

“We have the Musee d’Orsay to ourselves?” Lennon asks, incredulous. “Holy shit, Paige.”

She grins at him, slipping an arm through Reed’s, who kisses the top of her head and looks down at her like she just did him the biggest favor. I wonder what that’s about. But then I’m falling into stride next to Lennon, and I stop thinking about his older brother entirely.

“This is pretty cool, huh?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I told you she was surprising.”

“So what’s so amazing about this place?”

He holds open the door for me, and we pause in the entryway to greet the museum staff. An associate director tells us that there will be docents milling around should we have any questions and to enjoy ourselves.

“So?” I press as we leave him. “You didn’t answer me.”

“Just wait,” he murmurs, leading me up a set of marble stairs and into a long gallery.

I stare at the room stretched out in front of us. “Oh.” I can’t really think of anything else to say. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” He grins down at me. “It’s pretty great, isn’t it?”

Beautiful and full of light, Paige said, and man, that wasn’t the half of it. “This is a renovated train station,” Lennon explains. The domed ceiling is glass, as are the arched windows stretching up the upper walls. The light and the massive height of the ceiling give the gallery a bright, open feel.

“This is really beautiful,” I say. “Wow.”

“I know.” Lennon sounds happy. “It’s my favorite museum.”

“Did Paige know that?”

He’s quiet for a moment. “She guessed.”

I look up to see a strange expression on his face. It’s almost like he’s happy and ashamed at the same time. “Lennon?”