When she reached his side, he looked like he was about to tip completely over, so she placed her hands on his arm, trying to steady him. For a moment, she thought he was going to fall down. And take her with him. But then he found his equilibrium, blinked his eyes a few times in the darkness, and threw his shoulders back.

“I’m okay,” he said. “Thank you.”

He said that first, then turned to look at her. His eyes blinked a few times again.

“Oh, Madeline. I thought you were just a passing stranger.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Do you live around here?”

“My apartment is closer to campus.”

“Oh.” He looked puzzled and then appeared to give up on trying to figure it out. “Well, thanks.”

Madeline kept her hands on his left arm. Just in case. “Why don’t I just walk with you to your door?”

“Were we talking about your thesis?” he asked.

“Some. But it’s okay—”

“No. I know we were just talking about my family at the bar, weren’t we? I mean, that was you, wasn’t it?”

“It was.”

“Oh, boy. When I think of them dying too much, I tend to indulge. And I think of them all the time. . . .” He stared into the distance like he expected something to materialize out of the darkness. “My son, Jake, he’d be college age now. I always wonder what he would have been like as he got older. Would he be a writer?” He turned to her. “Would he date a girl like you?”

“I’m sure he was a great kid.”

“He was.” He stood there for a moment, still staring at her. “I’m going to go. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine. I can tell.”

“If you’re sure.”

He stared at her, his eyes suddenly sharply focused. “Are you sure? Are you okay? You seem like you have something on your mind. Is it the thesis?”

“Yes. But look, just forget it. It’s late, and I’m probably overreacting, like you said.”

“If you don’t feel comfortable with it, just come inside and get it. Take it back and think about it.”

Madeline thought about it. She really thought about it.

And almost did take it back.

But it was late. And maybe she was overreacting.

And maybe Madeline hoped Connor would read it. And . . . would he have some advice about what had been happening with her and Sophia?

Would he be able to do something about it?

Would he piece it together and help?

“No,” Madeline said, “I want you to keep it. I want you to read it. And . . .”

Connor wobbled a little. “And what?”

“If I’m not here at some point . . . if I drop out or something—”

“Drop out? Why would you—”