But it was going to change, of course it was, because he wouldn’t always be here to read Amy her favorite story and sing atrociously, and Meg wouldn’t be at the new apartment to make sure Will and Johnny combed their hair.

And he wouldn’t have anyone to kiss in the mornings, or laugh at the newspaper comics with before bed, or hug a little and pretend—

“Jack? Jack, come on...”

He twitched under the duvet, his mind half in sleep and half in all the things he’d been turning over like a stone, rubbing and rubbing ’til all the rough edges were worn smooth. The realities of what was to come. Would Amy want to live here full-time, closer to her school, or would she want to live with him, deeper into the city? And Johnny—her moods could be unpredictable, a surly teenager all the way, and Will always looked at him with an odd combination of fondness for his old dad and exasperation that he just wasn’t quite bright enough. Which Jack absolutely agreed with, these days.

Sometimes it felt like all he had were these worries, the ways in which he might disappoint people.

“Oh my God, Jack...”

He squeezed his eyes shut, stretched out and breathed in and let himself drift—

Long, silken hair, silvery against navy sheets. The face he always made, right before he opened his eyes, like he could murder Jack for waking him up. The stretch of pale skin, and the obscene sounds he made as he smelled that first cup of coffee. All of those familiar things altered by adulthood—no more late nights, and calm mornings, starting in on the crossword, maybe, and tossing it aside and reaching down, down, under the covers, and wrapping his hand around—

“Jack Gardner, if you don’t get your ass up in five seconds...”

His phone was shouting at him.

He rolled off the couch in shock and hit the floor with his face. And, um, other things.

Exactly how he liked to wake up. Christ.

And yes, that was Meg snickering through the video screen of his phone, also fallen to the ground next to him, which he had clearly answered rather than turning the hell off.

“Oh, Jack.” She tried to cover her eyes, but kept gawking at him. She was laughing pretty hard now.

“I’m up, I’m up,” he mumbled into the floor, not actually getting up.

“Do you need help or something? Do I need to call the fire department?”

“No,” he sighed, pulled himself into a sitting position. “What’s going on?”

She giggled a bit more, but then her face turned serious, and she looked down. “Jack, I have to tell you—”

He yawned. “What, hon?”