His parents had ensured, with all of their fabulous and meaningless money, that he had a private room all his own.

So no one minded that he left a smear of blood on the wall.

What an idiot. What a fucking tool.

Theo stood in the doorway to Jasper’s dormitory room. A light sweat had broken out along his hairline, and his breath was shallow in his chest, and he tried to push it all aside—the way Jack still looked a little scruffy, despite his change in fortune, and his atrocious rats-nest hair, and his shocking blue eyes. Good-looking. Reviled. He had prayed that he wouldn’t have to see him again. He tried to calm his breath, deepening it, slowing down and letting Jack fade.

Theo was here for his son, and who gave a damn that Jack Gardner had been here, that his own son was in Jasper’s class?

What difference did it make, seeing him and remembering—

“All right, Dad?”

He focused on Jasper, who was watching him with a frown over his open suitcase.

“Yeah.” He shook his head. “Sorry. You have everything?”

“I think so.” Jasper looked into his case, serious and pondering. His son was—he was a little more sensitive. Theo’s parenting had nurtured him, allowed him to be gentle and kind, in a way he had never been.

Jasper was the one thing in his life he had done right.

He regarded the other half of the dormitory room, mostly unpacked, the child probably downstairs, checking over the last details with the welcoming staff. Theo had wanted to give Jasper a better experience, a roommate to share school with, companionship, good years without isolation. The built-in bookshelves were crammed with tatty old paperbacks—he was doubtful that they could bear the weight—and a few posters were tacked to the wall, and a set of blue sheets with a hand-knitted afghan were set up on the bed. He wondered what this other child would be like, if he’d be nice or snobbish or—it kind of looked like—a total nerd.

It would be good for Jasper, maybe making a friend. Theo had ruled over his single room like a king but had known, deep down, how alone he was.

He watched Jasper setting up his side of the room, and yes, maybe he’d spoiled him a bit—his portion was stuffed with top-of-the-line lacrosse equipment, and autographed posters of musicians, and far too many iterations of the school uniform—but Jasper had never taken any of it for granted the way he had. He’d get along with his roommate, whoever he was; he had never been unkind. Walking into the building, Jasper had given a smile to everyone he’d seen.

He was a good kid. Lexi would be proud.

Though she wasn’t here, of course.