“They put up all kinds of ropes and pulleys and just pulled her down the stairs.” He chuckled, something in him loving the idea of a Classical statue being dragged down a marble staircase by frantic Frenchmen with Nazis hot on their tail.

It made my eyes pop just to imagine the effort that must have gone into getting it down. “Could you imagine if they broke her?” My voice was hushed with the horror of it.

He laughed, the sound echoing off the big cave of a room. “Brenna, she’s got no head! How much more could they do?”

I looked at the huge, intimidating, marble goddess, who was strangely headless in that way so much ancient art is that I just kind of imagine great sculpture purposefully limbless and beheaded. “Well, there’s the wings,” I said indignantly, but when he kept laughing, I gave up and joined him.

Mom found us standing on the stairs, our arms loosely around each other, laughing hard and leaning on each other for support.

“What’s so funny?” Mom asked.

“That she has no head,” I gasped and Saxon leaned his head back and howled.

Mom narrowed her eyes at me a little. The idea of an ancient headless marble statue was practically religious to my mother, and she crossed her arms and glared our laughs dead.

“If you two jokers are done, we have a lot more to see.”

I left Saxon’s embrace swiftly and put my arm around her waist.

“It wasn’t really that she was headless that was so funny,” I said soberly, willing Mom to feel less disappointed in my disrespect of the arts. “It was the Nazis trying to steal her…” Yeah, there was no way to explain it that didn’t make us sound like idiot teenage American tourists.

“The Nazi occupation of Paris was a real hoot.” Mom clicked her tongue. “ Tsk.Brenna, they have an amazing Dutch landscape section. Would you like to see it? If clouds and dikes aren’t too hilarious for you.”

Saxon choked a little, and I laughed behind my hand, trying hard not to. Mom rolled her eyes, but she smiled. A little.

We went through the rest of the long, cool museum and looked at the clouds and dikes with perfectly respectful appreciation, though Saxon did pinch my arm and wink behind Mom’s back. Lylee joined us, and I found her innuendo and fawning irritating. It seemed like Saxon did too. Finally everyone’s eyes except Mom’s were glazed over from fine art overload.

“Should we go examine the Rococo display again? I don’t think I really had time to drink that Fragonard in.” Mom clasped her hands over her heart like she was a lovesick teenager.

I could see Lylee and Saxon suppressing groans. “Maybe we should get something to eat first, Mom,” I suggested.

“Oh! Yes, good idea.” Mom wrinkled her nose. “I just can’t eat at the Louvre cafeteria. Let’s go and grab something…there’s a great little place a few blocks away.”

Lylee seized the opportunity and drew Mom away by the arm. They chattered over each other about sexual suggestiveness in French Rococo paintings. Saxon grabbed my hand.

“Hey. Sorry if I offended your mother with my headless art and Nazi humor.”

“Mom is serious about art.” I offered him a tidbit of advice with my smile. “Excepting a racial slur or something less than complimentary about me, I don’t know if there’s anything that would have offended my mother more.”

He watched her walk in front of us and nodded. “I like her passion. She doesn’t care if she’s cool or not, and that’s pretty damn awesome on its own.”

“Of course she doesn’t care if she’s cool.” I put my hands up. “She’s my mom.”

“Being a mom doesn’t give you automatic self-esteem.” Saxon’s eyes switched focus to his mom’s back, her long, silky black hair swishing around her firm little butt.

“Your mom seems to have good self-esteem.” I followed his gaze.

“My mom has a big mouth and lots of opinions. That’s different.” His face hardened a little.

“Do you two get along?” Before this trip, I felt like Saxon had just sprung to life, fully formed. Or hatched from a giant egg. The idea of him having parents seemed impossible.

“No.” The word fell out of his mouth bluntly. “My mother likes me, but I don’t really feel any pressing need to be around her much.”

“Why not? She’s so smart and pretty.” I didn’t like Lylee myself, but it seemed kind of terrible to not like your own mother.

“Jake’s told you all about how we were when we were younger, right? How I was the bad guy who introduced him to all the crazy stuff he did?” He grabbed my hand tighter.

“He mentioned it.” I didn’t add that he mentioned it often and angrily.

“Well, Jake had the option to get rid of me, and good for him, you know? I’m not being bitter. It’s the reason I can’t tell him that we’re brothers. For a friend to drop you on your head, that’s one thing. For a brother to do it? That’s not as cut and dry.”

“What does this have to do with Lylee?”

“Lylee was my teacher of the dark arts.” He smiled sardonically. “She didn’t want to be burdened with a kid, especially once my dad left. Once I was remotely old enough to be a little party prop, that’s what I became. And her friends were such liberal intellectuals, they didn’t think there was anything wrong with a ten-year-old sipping beers and smoking cigarettes.” He ran a hand through his hair. “For the most part, I like it, you know? It gives me a freedom to do what I want to do. But it also means that I’m not great at following rules.”

“You could try following them a little harder,” I suggested. He dropped my hand and wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me out of the way of the busy, crowding pedestrians on the narrow sidewalk.

“You say that like it’s just some switch I can flip.” He shook his head and pulling me closer. “Remember last night you got pissed when I compared you to a pet?”

“Yes. I was upset because it was a moronic thing to say.” I was prepared to stand my ground on that one.

“You were upset because I was calling youa pet.” He smiled at me. “But we’re all pets. Kids, I mean. Our parents keep us and feed us and make choices for us. We’re just pets until we’re old enough to be our own keepers.”

“So, I’m just like a hamster to my parents?”

“No.” He swept a quick kiss on my hair. “Nothing as mindless and disposable as a hamster. You’re like a thoroughbred, like some magnificent creature they’re going to care for and set in the right direction, and bet all of their fortunes on. And probably win.”

“Weird, but okay.” I thought about it for a minute. “What kind of pet are you, then?”

“Something no one’s supposed to have as a pet, but they have it because it’s cool. Like an anaconda. I’m like a showoff kind of animal, but I’m not going to show you affection or love.”

“That’s a stupid comparison, Saxon. You’re not uncaring. You’re just…misguided.” I looked over at him and his face made my throat feel scratched and dry. His mouth was crimped into something like a smile, but his eyes were definitely sad.

“What am I then?”

“Maybe you’re like a wolf cub,” I suggested. “Maybe you’re half domestic and half wild.”

“You’re holding out hope for me?” His hand tightened on my hip.

“Always,” I promised. “So if you think of yourself as a wolf cub and not a snake, isn’t there real hope that you could give in to your domestic side?”

“Yeah.” He kissed my head again. “But, shit Brenna, even domesticated dogs go crazy and maul their owners sometimes. Who the hell would trust a wolf?”

He’s right. A wolf. It’s something that I’ve associated with him since I first met him. He’s savage and frightening, loyal and fearless, dangerous and beautiful.

“Maybe you need to find other half wolves,” I suggested.

He snorted. “I’ve been hanging with misfits and lowlifes my whole life. It hasn’t done anything good for me yet.”

Mom and Lylee walked into a cafй. Saxon stopped me before the entrance.