“I guess he didn’t take it well?”
Gideon started to lift a hand to run it over his hair, his most common nervous gesture, and noticed the blood, seemingly for the first time. “He begged me not to make him go. Not to make him be alone.” He sucked at his knuckle, the sound hollow within the room, but after only seconds, he seemed to choke on the blood, snorting as he dropped his hand again. “Can we even blame him?” he demanded. “He spent how many days with Brooker? How many days alone, when I couldn’t help him, I couldn’t even findhim. Of course, he doesn’t want to go.”
Emma would have predicted exactly that reaction, and she suspected Gideon would have, too, if he had been honest with himself. In the past six months, Jesse had somehow become more closed off, and at the same time, hyperaware of them. Emma didn’t miss the way Jesse’s eyes tracked either of them when they were in a room. He was always watching.