“Thirty-one days,” he breathes out, nodding to himself as he stares at the ground. “What?” I stare at him, hurt and confused that he just dashed the moment completely. “He’s steeling himself,” says a voice I’ve never heard before. A woman’s. I look past Jamison, and my eyes land on her. Lean, pretty but sharp featured, sparkly eyes. I can’t completely place her age, but she’s young. She’s youthful looking. “For what?” I frown over at her. She raises her eyebrows. “For you.”
