Back in his dorm after Wednesday morning classes, Wesley halted outside the communal lounge. MacDonald slammed into his back, crutches flailing. He gripped the steel bar, steadying her.

“Why, yes,” she said blandly. “Do break my other leg. This cast needs a companion.”

“Do you hear that?” He poked his head into the lounge, searching for the origin of Lloyd’s voice. “It sounds grumpy.”

“You have the ears of a dog when it comes to our RA.” MacDonald clipped past him and reached her dorm room. “I have studying to do. See you at work.”

Another grumbling growl sounded from down the hall. Wesley rushed to the kitchen.

Lloyd jerked his head up from where he leaned against the counter, overlooking Randy frying up his lunch.

“Every day?” Wesley asked Lloyd.

“Every meal.”

Randy flashed them an embarrassed grin. “Want any? I made enough.”

Wesley grabbed three bowls. “Sure we do.” No one said no to a free, hot meal in a dorm. Even if there was a fifty-percent chance it tasted like charcoal.

Randy dished up, and they ate. In silence.

Lloyd prodded at his pasta, lips in a grim line. Curious, Wesley scored a glass of ice chips and began munching on them. Something that usually drove Lloyd insane.

“What’s going on?” Wesley asked the moment Randy left. Leaving his dirty dishes behind, of course.

Lloyd sighed. “You were right.”

“I like being right.” Wesley set his emptied plate on top of Randy’s. “What am I right about?”

Lloyd’s phone rang, and a wake of air hit Wesley. When he blinked, he was alone in the kitchen.

He didn’t mean to overhear the fight, but his feet had a mind of their own. And dammit, they wanted a stroll past Lloyd’s room. Multiple times.

Also, it wasn’t his fault the anger in Lloyd’s voice carried. “Are you lying to me?”

“Maybe alternative fact-ing you?” boy-of-the-month said.

A dry laugh. “If you think Kellyanne Conway-ing me will make this better, you’re one of sixty-two million idiots.”

“Fuck you. Good luck replacing all this.”

“I don’t want someone who stepped out of Vogue. I want personality and principles.”

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Wesley hightailed it back to the kitchen. He grabbed his glass of ice and his palm slipped over the condensation. He caught it a second before it fell and a half-second before Lloyd reappeared.

Lloyd eyed him as he picked up his pasta and heaped a forkful into his mouth. He watched Wesley swirl the ice in his glass and took another bite.

Wesley tipped the cool glass to his lips, and Lloyd spoke. “How much did you catch through my door?”

Ice slid down his chin. One punishing piece slid down his throat and weaseled under his T-shirt. “What? I’d never.” His breath deflated as he glared at Lloyd. “I don’t have any principles. How’d you know?”

“You’re blushing.”

“Could be because it’s a hot day.”

“Or that I know you.”

Wesley chewed on a piece of ice. “You do. You were also right about me being right.”

A nod. “He only lasted another week.”

“Not that, Lloyd. I’m right about you deserving better.”

Lloyd paused, pasta teetering on his fork. He popped it into his mouth and chewed. “I want a nice guy who doesn’t cheat and likes to go to bed early on a Saturday. Is that too much to ask for?”

“I’m going clubbing this weekend, you can come along and hunt for him if you want.”

“Unless you mean book-clubbing, I dislike my chances.”

Violet, a freshman girl in a study of green, flurried into the kitchen swiping at tears.

Lloyd pushed off the counter. “Violet, what’s the matter?”

“She called me a slutty bitch. How was I supposed to know he was her boyfriend?”

Wesley shoveled ice into his mouth like popcorn. “What happened?”

Lloyd shook his head at him as he handed her a paper towel.

She swiped her face with it. “I can’t share a room with her. I can’t.”

“Let’s sit down and discuss this all together. And for the love of God,” he said, whirling to Wesley, “stop crunching ice.”

Wesley chomped down on the cube, grinning as Lloyd herded Violet toward reconciliation.

He followed, knocking on MacDonald’s door so she didn’t miss out.

“Why do I let you drag me to this idle gossip?”

“Because under it all, you love this stuff.”

She didn’t deny it but positioned herself on the other side of the lounge door, mirroring him. They peered inside, where Lloyd stood before two pouting girls sitting on the couch.

“We’ve been dating three weeks! She’s seen me with him.”

Violet sobbed. “Hanging out. Not humping.”

Lloyd ran a hand over the millimeter of hair that had grown back. “Guys, let’s search for common ground.”

“Girls,” one of them said.

“A figure of speech, excuse me.”

Gavin purposefully trotted down the hall, a smug smile pulling at his lips.

This was about to get interesting.

Of course, Wesley’s phone had to ring.

He reached for it as Gavin butted them out of the way.

Lloyd leaped off his seat and swiveled toward Gavin slinking into the room. “What do you want?”

“To be involved in this discussion.”

“Go back upstairs. This isn’t any of your business.”

“It is my business when your girls fight on my floor. Jeremy is upset.”

Lloyd groaned and cast a tired look at the two girls. “How many times do we have to say it? It’s unwise to score the floor or screw the crew.”

RA Gavin said, “The dorm is best off limits.”

“Thank you, Polly. How about you grab yourself a cracker.”

Wesley’s phone was still ringing in his hand, and he slunk two steps down the hall and answered. “Wes, here.”

“Mr. Hidaka. Why, it must be three years since I’ve had the pleasure of talking to you.”

His spine prickled. He knew that voice from years of detention. “Principal Bontempo?”

“Calling from Sandalwood School regarding your brother.”

“Caleb?”

“I’m unaware of any other Hidaka sibling. Caleb has too many unexcused absences. Your mother requested we ask you how your family can support Caleb. Can you be here in an hour?”

“Yes, but, what do you mean unexcused absences?”

“Truancy, Mr. Hidaka. You are familiar with the concept as I recall. Come in, and I’m sure we’ll find a workable solution.”

“What do you mean—”

“See you in an hour.”

“But what—” His words were met with a dial tone.

He tried to call his brother but no one answered. On the second try, Caleb clearly declined the call. “What the hell?”

MacDonald snapped her head up at his raised voice. Even Lloyd and Gavin stopped bickering.

Wesley gawked at his phone like it was an alien. No way Caleb ditched school. He was the smart one who’d worked his ass off hoping the elite Treble School of Music would accept him. This had to be a mistake.

Lloyd planted steadying hands on his shoulders. Wesley gazed into concerned hazel eyes.

Someone murmured and Lloyd turned his head. “Cut that shit out, Gavin.” He refocused on Wesley, thumbs rubbing warm circles under his collarbone. “Are you all right?”

“They’ve called me into the office.”

“What happened?”

“I need to be across town within the hour. That’s like, fifty minutes away by car, but I don’t have a car. That leaves me the bus. Because the bus will surely be faster than the car.” He absently searched his pockets for his wallet, but he’d left it in his room, hadn’t he? “I should take an Uber. If it gets here quick enough, I’ll get there in time.”

“Hey, Wesley, deep breath there.”

“I need to find my wallet. And grab an Uber—would you do it for me?” Wesley pressed his phone against Lloyd’s chest. “Tell them I need them here five minutes ago.”

“I’d offer my car, but it’s in the shop until the afternoon.”

“You can use mine,” MacDonald said quietly.

Lloyd snapped up her offer. “Thank you. I’ll drive him.”

Wesley spoke over the lump in his throat. “But you have a girl crisis on your hands. And Gavin.”

The comforting anchor of Lloyd’s hands slid off his shoulders. “Gavin, your wish came true. Reconcile the situation without me. Call Gemma to step in for me for the afternoon, would you?”

“Lloyd?” Wesley croaked. “Why did the school call me?”

Lloyd steered him to his room and found Wesley’s wallet. He slipped it into his pocket. “Come on, let’s find out.”

* * *

Wesley threw his arms up in frustration, glaring through the windshield at His Almighty’s supposed residence. “Of course!”

Lloyd turned the ignition a third time, and it stuttered again. “She’ll warm up in a minute.”

“She better go from 0 to 180 in ten.”

“We’ll get there on time.” Lloyd patted the steering wheel, coaxing her to life.

Lloyd followed the directions of his phone’s navigation. Wesley dialed his brother’s number, ignoring Lloyd’s concern and sympathy. So what, he’d called ten times and left three voice messages? Maybe Caleb would pick up his phone on the eleventh go.

Out of luck.

Wesley dropped his phone onto his lap. “We always talk. He tells me everything. Tells me too much.”

“He’ll be fine. He probably feels too guilty to face the music.”

“There’ll be a lot of music to face. He’ll wish he were deaf.”

Lloyd glanced at him, voice calm and controlled. “I’m sure he’ll never pull a stunt like this again.”

“That’s the thing, though. It has happened before. Unexcused absences.”

At the red light, Lloyd patted his thigh. “We’ll get there on time.”

Warmth seeped through Wesley’s jeans and his pulse stuttered. Then he stuttered. “Wh—what if he got a girl pregnant?”

“He hasn’t,” Lloyd said with frustrating assurance.

“How can you be sure the ditching isn’t him being responsible?”

“You have a rather active imagination.”

“What if he’s taking time off school running around with this girl to doctor visits.”

“Wesley.”

“I’m serious.”

Wesley stared out the passenger window as the streets slid by with aching slowness. He palmed his head. “That’s why Mom asked the principal to deal with me. She knows about the illegitimate baby and has cut him out of her life.”

“I’m sure your mom wouldn’t do that.”

“You’ve never met my mom. She’s as private, conservative, and high-maintenance as the school we’re inching toward.” He looked at Lloyd. “What if Caleb, under all his outward snark, is alone? Worried? Desperate?”

The simmering warmth of Lloyd’s hand left his knee as he changed gears. “He’s got you. You’re there for him.”

Wesley sighed, thumping his head against the headrest. He lowered his voice. “He pissed me off growing up. Always mom’s favorite. He’s straight and therefore could do no wrong. I used to wish mom would get mad at him. What if I willed that into existence?”

He squinted skyward out the windshield, clamping his hands together like he used to during school mass. “I take it back. He’s a good kid. He’s too young to lose his mom and become a dad.” To Lloyd he said, “I’m a terrible person.”

“You did what siblings do.”

“Is that what you did to yours?”

“No.”

“Which is it? Are you noble or I am I terrible?”

“I don’t have siblings.”

What? Wesley blinked at Lloyd. They had known each other for years. How did he not know this basic piece of information? And if he didn’t know that, what else didn’t he know?

“Not right now, because I’m in a state of panic, but there are some things we need to rectify.”

Lloyd looked at him out of the corner of his eye, then shifted gears. “There are a lot of things we need to rectify, Wesley.”

The approaching light turned yellow, and Lloyd—Mr. Capricorn-follow-the-rules Lloyd—stepped on the gas.

* * *

“On time. We’re on time.” Wesley caught his breath outside Principal Bontempo’s office. With its polished bronze plaque and doorknob, the dark wooden door opened.

“A first for you, Mr. Hidaka,” Principal Bontempo stood before him, shrew-eyed and gangly in his vacuum-tight suit. He shook Wesley’s hand. “Perhaps you’ve learned how to tell time with the passing years?”

Such a delight was his former principal.

Principal Bontempo’s hand stiffened around his, and Wesley followed his narrowed gaze to Lloyd a half step behind him. He dropped Wesley’s hand.

“Come inside my office, Mr. Hidaka. Your friend may wait in the hall.”

Wesley’s neck prickled with angry heat. He glared at Principal Bontempo. God, he’d hated this school.

Just as well he’d grown a few more balls with the passing years.

“Actually, I would like him to join us.”

“This is a family matter, Mr. Hidaka. I’m sure your mother wouldn’t want your pals involved.”

Okay. No, it was fine. He’d handle this. He wasn’t sixteen anymore.

This wasn’t him being sent to the principal’s office for hooking up with Trevor Crace behind the chapel.

“He practically is family.” He flattened his stare at the uptight principal. “We’re engaged.”

Lloyd gave a sharp intake of air, followed by a rough cough.

Wesley reached for Lloyd’s arm and wrapped it around the front of his waist. He leaned back against a warm, solid chest. Breath stirred the back of his hair with a whisper that was along the lines of, “Boy, oh boy.”

Wesley trailed his fingers over Lloyd’s forearm to the back of his hand. Their fingers slotted together, and Wesley almost choked when Lloyd spoke, words sliding down his neck. “Principal Bontempo was simply being delicate about this private matter, honey.”

Honey? Wesley’s body trembled with the snort he suppressed.

“Now that he’s aware of my faithful, undying support for my fiancé,” Lloyd continued with a squeeze to his abdomen, “he’s sure to invite us both in. We could tell him that funny story about my lawyer cousin suing his florist for a six-figure sum for discrimination.”

Wesley stared the principal right in the eye, and Principal Bontempo cleared his throat. “Of course, you’re welcome into my office, Mister—?”

“Alexander Reynolds.”

Principal Bontempo’s eyes lit up. “I do have to ask,” he said delightedly toward Lloyd. “Are you related to Tabitha Alexander Reynolds?”

Lloyd hesitated. “That would be my aunt.”

“Such a fine woman, from a fine family.”

With a bounce in his step, he ushered them toward the plush seats at his massive Victorian desk. He sat in the larger, higher leather chair across from them.

Wesley hunched, resting his arms against the desk. “What is happening with Caleb? Why is he missing classes? Where is he now? Why did you contact me?”

Principal Bontempo opened a file and sorted through sheets of paper. “We contacted you because your mother thinks you’ll have more chance getting through to him.”

“Through to him? He’s a smart kid. If he’s missing classes, it’s because something’s happening at the school.” Or he got a girl pregnant.

Pray to God, that wasn’t it.

“The education received here is of the finest quality. Yes, Caleb was a smart boy with a promising future.”

“Was?”

“Over the last two years, his grades have suffered. Solid, but nothing spectacular. The only class he does exceptionally well in is music.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Believe this: If his behavior doesn’t change, he won’t receive a letter of recommendation from Sandalwood to the Treble School of Music. Bear in mind, I have countless close contacts on their board of admissions who would accept an applicant based on my judgment.”

A dry laugh huffed out of him. “Caleb deserves that letter. Even after our father died, he kept his grades up. He’s written essays better than most graduates could come up with.”

“His teachers have said he has shown exemplary work in past years. Perhaps that focus was a part of his grieving. Unfortunately, he lacks drive now. He’s not good enough for a Sandalwood recommendation. Those are reserved for students who uniformly deliver superior work.”

“What does Caleb need to get it?” Wesley said through ground teeth. Lloyd shifted in his chair, and his foot pressed in solid support against Wesley’s.

“He might consider applying to another school.”

Wesley shot out of his chair. This stupid school where students were only good enough if they molded to Principal Bontempo’s vision. “That’s not an option.”

Principal Bontempo glanced at Lloyd. “I can offer one other alternative. I’ll consider the recommendation if he aces all upcoming assignments from this year’s core classes and doesn’t skip a single class.”

Principal Bontempo shut the file and rounded the desk. He opened the door for them.

“That’s it?” Wesley said.

“This isn’t detention. Leave when you please.”

Wesley balled his fists.

Lloyd threw an arm around his neck and pressed firmly against his shoulder as if he sensed Wesley’s urgent need to punch something.

“Excuse me, Principal Bontempo,” Lloyd said evenly. “May we have a copy of his records and speak to his teachers personally?”

Capricorns were so on top of it like that!

Principal Bontempo peeked at his ridiculous antique pocket-watch. “It’s lunch hour. You may try the staff lounge. I’ll have a copy of his file by the time you leave.”

Wesley stalked past his principal. Lloyd’s arm dropped to the small of his back as Lloyd followed close behind.

“Mr. Hidaka?” Principal Bontempo said as they strode toward the staff room. “If he has so much as a sick day, the recommendation is off the table.”