“It’s more complicated than that,” I said.

“What makes it so complicated?”

“Lucas is crazy about him. And you know Lucas. He doesn’t usually warm up to people.” Imagine you had a brother like mine, I wanted to say, a brother who liked imaginary people best, who was always longing for some impossible happiness, a brother who suddenly grasped on to something, someone, with ease and joy. The way he was with Cole. Laughing and talking. I’d never seen this before. Not with anyone. Not in all these years.

“You know about my brother Colin?”

“Only that he passed away when he was a few months old.”

“Weeks old,” I said.

“Oh man,” Eddie said. “Poor little guy.”

“But for Lucas he was always really present. Even years later. I know that sounds crazy. Lucas thinks this guy is Colin, you know, reborn.”

Eddie whistled.

“I know,” I said. “It sounds so wild. But listen, Eddie, you don’t need to worry about me. This isn’t your problem.”

“Please,” he said. “Your problems are my problems.”

“No,” I said. “I’ve been trying to tell you. They’re not anymore, okay?”

“You know what I’m going to do?” Eddie said. “I’m going to stop by and see you and Lucas. Just to show my face. I haven’t been over in a while.”

I couldn’t remember Eddie ever stopping by to see us—we tended to see each other in the storeroom of Jack’s after hours, in the stacks at the library, the Biography section where no one ever went, or—once—in the bathroom at the drugstore. I knew by offering to keep an eye on Cole, Eddie was being overprotective, jealous even, but Cole was, after all, a stranger, and I wanted him to think there was someone looking out for us.

“Anytime,” I said to Eddie. I touched his big hand just to feel something real, and warm, and safe.

He went back out to the bouncer stool, and I waited for Lucas and Cole, who had gone home to eat dinner, while I’d come straight to Jack’s, not hungry. At this time of year, when the rest of the island restaurants were full of tourists, Jack’s was often a haven for islanders. A few locals sat at the bar: an old fisherman named Sebastian, who’d sat at that barstool every night for as long as I could remember; a couple named Stephan and Steph, who I’d gone to school with. They’d been in love forever, since childhood, or maybe before. They sat there at the other end of the bar, and Steph put both arms around Stephan’s neck, and they looked like they were on their first date, so much in their own world. I couldn’t imagine being that in love for so many years. What would that feel like? Weren’t they exhausted?