He stays quiet for a minute, but it feels different from Jack’s normal quiet. He’s not avoiding the question, just thinking through what he wants to say. Finally, he takes in a long breath, letting it trickle out slowly before he begins speaking. “I was twenty-three. When they died. Even though I was already an adult and had been living in the brownstone for a few years, I relied on them for so much. Career guidance. Financial advice. Love and support. They were my best friends. We don’t have any other family, so after the accident, it was just me. All on my own.” He pulls his gaze from mine, like he doesn’t want to see my reaction to this next part. “And I just froze. Like I was in this block of ice, captured in this moment in time. I didn’t know what to do without them. Or how to be. How to grow. How to move on.”

Fuck it. I push myself off my chair and sit at the foot of his. He pulls his legs up so he’s sitting crisscrossed, and I do the same. Our knees press together, and I take one of his hands in mine.

“When I thawed out, I made a lot of bad decisions. I blew a lot of money, drank way too much, had a shit-ton of meaningless sex.”

Oof. Not loving hearing about that part, but I try to keep my features neutral, knowing it’s costing him something to reveal all of this to me.

“I’m not sure how I snapped out of it, honestly, but I think it was probably just the idea of how disappointed my parents would be if they could see what I was doing to myself. So after a couple of rough years, I cleaned up my act and paid off the brownstone, and while I wasn’t quite frozen again, I was living in this weird sort of fugue state. Like I was just numb all the time. The only people I talked to were online or random takeout people or service workers.” He clears his throat. “I’ve been hollow for so long.”

He picks up our joined hands, running his thumb over my knuckles.

My chest aches when I think of Jack alone and in pain, with no one to turn to for support. “Do you still feel hollow?”

He finally meets my gaze once again. “Not anymore, no.”

“How did you come out of it?”

His face breaks into my favorite smile, the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes. “My therapist recommended I look for a roommate.”

“Oh.” The admission is a direct punch to the heart, and any small slice of delusion I had left about my feelings for Jack completely explodes like a balloon full of confetti.