Once we’d gotten dried off and dressed, we spent the rest of the night outside. The Woodford patio furniture was more comfortable than anything I’d ever had inside my own house, and it was cool enough for a light blanket over us on the—whatever you call a fancy outdoor sofa. We spoke in low voices, dense conversation with few words but lots of weight.
Jeanette hadn’t spoken with Bran about James, but he had his suspicions. How he would act on them remained to be seen. Family was complicated. I told Bran about my own attempts to reconcile with my sister, and the habitual sabotage that offset them. He shared his doubts about his place in the world, and I explained the recent scars he couldn’t see.
Bran fetched cups of coffee just before sunrise, and we repeated another of our old rituals.
