“I think about it all the time,” he says. His voice is gravel. “The families I shattered. Those kids aren’t here because of me.” Squeezing his eyes shut, he breathes deep. “I think about them every day.” He reopens his eyes and connects with mine, lips wobbling. “It hurts every day.”

Pressing my chin to my chest, I wipe my tears and nod. “I know what that’s like,” I whisper.

“I got caught up in the party,” he continues. After giving my neck a final squeeze, his hands find mine clenched in my lap, and he sandwiches my fist between his palms. “I’m not proud of it, but I’ve always been curious what Influencer life is like—what it’s like to live in an augmented world—and I lost track of time. I didn’t know Nash was going to be there. All I could tell from studying your Network feed was that he hurt you, and he’d completely changed since the last time I saw him. I didn’t know what game he was playing—I still don’t—but we used to be friends, and I thought he was on my side…” He swallows, his fingers gripping mine.

“Remember I said bad stuff happens when he’s around? I trusted him to keep everyone off the boat… I don’t know what happened. We haven’t spoken since that night. Maybe there was a miscommunication, but by the time I realized there were people out there it was too late. I raced to get you—to get to everyone—I was on the boat with Nash, coming to dismantle the bomb. And we were fighting because he was insisting on coming with us, and I thought it was because he didn’t think I could handle you alone. My pride got in the way, and I wasn’t fast enough… I failed.” His voice cracks.

Nash let everyone on the boat… I file that fact away for later, suspecting it’s important. It’s not totally Garrett’s fault…

“I’m not telling you this because I want you to forgive me,” he says, fingers sliding up and circling my wrist. “I can’t forgive myself. I would never ask that of you. I’m telling you because you deserve the truth.”

“Truth.” I laugh without mirth, venturing a glance up at him through wet eyes. “Is anything real?” My throat constricts, and I choke on the words. “I need something to be real.”

Grabbing my shoulders, he forces me to look at him. “We are. You and me. Here. Right now. In this moment. All of this.” He gestures between his heart and mine, where the tension is undeniable. “Everything we just accomplished. Us. We are real.” He searches my face, and it’s like he can see straight through to my soul—like he intimately knows all of me—and he likes what he sees.