“I understand them,” I say, after a minute. “I think they love me. I think they were trying to protect me.”

“And themselves,” he adds.

I nod, and feel a fresh press of tears behind my eyes. It feels impossible that I have any at all left, but it’s a reminder of what brought me here in the first place.

“That’s what Sibby’s been trying to do. Protect herself. And I couldn’t let it go. I—”

“She shouldn’t have said it,” Reid says. “There’s no excuse.”

I close my eyes and nod, and I’m not sure if it’s because I agree or because I’ve entirely exhausted myself. That fight with Sibby might as well have happened days ago, years ago, for all the strange, sad distance I feel from it. When I try to think of what I’ll do next to try to repair the damage, nothing comes to mind. My brain is a slate that’s been wiped entirely clean—dull black and not a piece of chalk in sight.

I think fleetingly about my sketches, my deadline, dreading the thought of trying to return to them when I feel this way. I’m so tired that I suspect I could fall asleep right here, with this too-soon man I like so much holding me.

Except.

“Your couch is awful,” I say, sitting up and wriggling my butt against it. “It’s like sitting on pizza boxes.”

He laughs softly, clearly surprised at the change in topic. “It came with the place.”

“Ew.” I dramatically hold out my arms so my skin is no longer touching it and wonder idly if someone in this building has a blacklight we can borrow.

He reaches out, gently rubs his thumb across my cheek. “It was new. This is a furnished rental.”

Oh.

It’s another one of those reminders for me, the ones I’ve been trying so hard to take to heart about Reid’s impermanence here. The too soon-ness of this whole evening reasserts itself. It’ll always be too soon with me and Reid, because Reid is leaving.

I drop my arms, hoping the motion hides my sigh. Suddenly, coming to this apartment feels like as bad of an idea as staying in my own. I open my mouth to say something—maybe a casual Let’s go get a sandwich and walk and pretend this never happened—but Reid interrupts me.

“Do you want to go for a drive tomorrow?”

I blink at him.

A drive.

How could he possibly know?

“We could get out of the city,” he says, a note of caution in his voice. “For some fresh air. Distance, you know?”

“Yes, I know exactly.” At the very thought of it—wind in my hair, buildings and trees streaking past the windows, a break from everything here—I feel lighter already. I almost bounce on this pizza box couch.

“Where would we go?