Water whooshes through the pipes above. By the sounds of it, I’d say he’s just now finishing his shower. We need to leave in five minutes. If he’s not down here by seven-thirty, I’m leaving without him. I’ve never had a tardy in my life, and I’m not about to get one for him. Summer can drop him off in the freshman lane, for all I care. Loud thumps coming from the stairs a minute later direct my gaze to where Jensen is running down two steps at a time. His finger combs his dark hair into place as he rushes through the kitchen. He grabs an apple from the fruit bowl and slips a backpack over one shoulder. “Ready?” The green apple fills his palm, and he takes one giant, crisp bite. The juices run down his chin, but he wipes them away with the back of his hand. “I thought you didn’t eat breakfast.” I rise up and grab my bags. “Jensen,” Dad says from the head of the table.
