Page 120 of Rules to Love By

“To go, please,” Eli said.

“Right. Yeah.” He replaced the mug with a paper cup, but he kept looking back at Marcus.

“Eli said he’d drive me,” Marcus said. “I didn’t realize you rearranged your day.”

“No, it’s fine.” Tris managed a small smile. “Makes sense.”

As they stood awkwardly, the back door opened and Ozzy stomped in. “There you are,” he said to Marcus, then turned to Tris. “To-go coffee, doll. I need stimulants.”

Tris’s smile got real when he directed it at Ozzy. “Turns out you can take a nap. Eli’s driving him in.”

Ozzy looked back to Marcus. “Good. More the merrier, then.”

“Sorry?” Marcus blinked at him.

“Tris wants to be there. Back you up. That a problem? You go with Eli, and we’ll follow. Go have a meal after you’re done. You’ll be hungry. These things take time, and a fair amount of emotional energy. You’ll want to eat after.”

“You say that like you have experience with police interviews.”

“Unfortunately, I do.”

“Oh.”

Ozzy patted his shoulder, much like Tyrone had. “We’ve all come through some stuff to get where we are. Sticking together has worked so far. Don’t see why we should stop now. Do you?”

“No.” Marcus pulled in a breath that was blessedly free and clear. “No, I guess not. I’ll go get ready.”

Ozzy nodded, draped an arm around Tris’s shoulders and turned him towards the takeout window. “Coffee.”

Twenty minutes later Marcus returned to a full kitchen, wearing his date jeans, his one clean, non-paint-spattered T-shirt, and the suit jacket.

Everyone stopped what they were doing to look at him.

“You’re not wearing the lawyer sweater,” Jake said from next to the dishwasher.

“Sorry?”

Pursing his lips, Jake went to the hooks near the door, shuffled through the coats hanging there. “Where is it?” He started back at the beginning, muttering to himself, when something slid down the wall to land in a lump of nondescript brown wool at his feet. “There!” He came back triumphant, with a huge, very ugly cardigan with red and rust pompoms along the collar and huge wooden buttons.

“Oh.” Lucky hurried forward. “Jake, that’s not—”

Jake yanked the sweater out of Lucky’s reach. “You wore it when you talked to the lawyer. So did Tris and Rod. It’s the lawyer sweater. It makes people safe to talk to the lawyer.”

Lucy tiptoed to Jake’s side, expression distressed, though she didn’t say anything.

Of course. Jake had his comforts. Marcus glanced at his feet, unsurprised to see him in his bunny slippers. When the routines around him were messed up, he reverted to the things that gave him comfort. It wasn’t such a terrible strategy, if he thought about it.

“Do you mind?” Marcus asked Lucky.

“I don’t—it’s hideous. And Kreed’s.”

Kreed held up both hands. “Don’t blame that thing on me. I tried to give it away.”

“You can’t give it away!” Jake and Lucky said at the same time.

Kreed laughed. “Clearly.”

“Here.” Jake thrust it at him.

---