Still<b>, </b><b>that </b>wasn’t something Jean needed to worry about.
????
<b>Two </b><b>days </bter, she visited Edgar’s home again for Kelly’s scheduled treatment. After several rounds <b>of </b>therapy, Kelly’s condition had drastically improved.
She still couldn’t stand on her own, but the muscle atrophy had significantly cased. She was already able to begin using rehabilitation equipment.
It wouldn’t be long now before she could put paralysis behind her. After leaving Edgar’s neighborhood, Jean stopped by a nearby bakery.
The colorful cakes disyed behind the ss instantly lifted her mood. <i>Yep</i>, life really wasn’tplete without desserts. Without cake!
Jean ordered a slice of tiramisu and a cup of fruit tea. Then she took a seat by the window, her gaze instinctively drifting around the shop-
In the seat diagonally across from her sat a familiar figure.
Jean blinked, caught off guard, and stared a few seconds longer than she meant to.
Before long, the boy seemed to sense her eyes on him. He lifted his brows slightly.
Their eyes met–suddenly and without warning.
Jean pressed her lips together, a bit self–conscious.
Dalton, on the other hand, curved his lips into a soft, rxed smile.
“Wanna sit with me?” His eyes were clear and unclouded, and his voice as crisp as a cool spring. “There’s room over here.”
Dalton… had just invited her over.
As if under a spell, Jean somehow ended up sitting beside him.
Only when she got closer did she notice the middle–aged man in a suit standing next to him.
<i>His </i><i>assistant</i><i>, </i><i>maybe</i>? <i>Or </i><i>a </i><i>bodyguard</i><i>? </i>Jean didn’t ask. She nced at Dalton again and saw that he was still in his wheelchair, the original chair pushed aside.
For some reason, a pang of sympathy rose in her chest. <i>Such </i><i>a </i><i>good </i><i>kid</i><i>… </i>what <i>a </i><i>shame </i><i>he’s </i><i>stuck </i>in <i>a </i>wheelchair <i>at </i><i>such </i><i>a </i><i>young </i><i>age</i>.
“Mr. Dalton, she…” The man beside him hadn’t yet figured out what was going on. He looked at Jean, then back at Dalton, and spoke with some hesitation. “She is…<b>?</b><b>” </b>
Dalton raised his eyebrows casually. “She’s my friend.”
Jean couldn’t helpmenting inwardly. <i>Well</i><i>, </i><i>damn</i><i>. </i><i>We’d </i><i>only </i><i>met </i><i>once </i><i>before</i><i>, </i><i>barely </i><i>even </i><i>talked</i><i>–</i><i>and </i>now <b>we </b><i>were </i><i>friends</i><i>? </i><i>Or </i><i>was </i><i>this </i><i>just </i><i>because </i><i>of </i><i>Winston</i><i>? </i>
“What are you thinking about?” Dalton suddenly asked with a smile, as if he’d noticed her spacing out.
Chapter 34 Really Hates You
<b>His </b><b>voice </b>was <b>like </b><b>a </b>gentle <b>breeze</b>. Jean gave a half–truthful, half–<b>yful </b><b>reply</b><b>, </b><b>“</b>I <b>was </b><b>wondering </b>if we’ve met <b>before </b>
<b>What </b><b>got </b>to her about Dalton wasn’t just the mysterious connection between him and her brother It was <b>also </b><b>his </b>voice.
<b>She </b>was more and more convinced she’d heard it before–somewhere<i>, </i>in some moment from the <b>past</b><b>. </b>
Dalton’s smile deepened. “Of course… we met before at Sterford Academy. You helped me out<b>.</b><b>” </b>
<i>That’s </i>not it… it wasn’t at Sterford <i>Academy</i><i>… </i>
Jean silently argued in her mind, but said nothing aloud. She just nodded politely. “Didn’t expect to <b>run </b>into you again.”
After a bit of small talk, Jean couldn’t hold it in anymore. She asked Dalton, “So, what’s the deal with you and my brother? How long have you two known each other?”
Dalton’s smile faltered for the first time.
Jean frowned, confused. “I mean, yeah, my brother’s got a nasty temper and he’s cold with people, but <b>he </b>seems to really hate you.”
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