Chapter 19
“Better?” She watched him; she had, after all, known him for a long time. “Not too much?”
“I do love you,” Colby told her, equilibrium not flawless but more so than before, given support. “Better. I’m all right.”
“You know you can talk to me,” Jill said. “And if you want permission to tell him, or however you want me to say it so it makes sense in your head, then yeah, absolutely, go ahead. I wouldn’t mind telling the world. I think you should get writing credit. But you know that, I’ve been saying that for years, except you don’t want to. But I mean it.”
“I know you do,” Colby said, because he did know, and he threw her one more smile, heading back over to his mark. His shirt—Will’s loose white shirt, at home and informal—billowed. The air, laced through by rain, was chilly.
He did like the rain. He always had. He eyed the windowpane instead of Jason; he wanted to go over and touch mysterious runes and hieroglyphs on glass.