I’m starting to sense a pattern here.

I open up the app and start in on the next chapter in the webcomic. His story is generally dramatic and thrilling, sometimes creepy or romantic, but it doesn’t really matter what’s happening on the screen, because whenever I read it, I’m grinning the whole time. There’s just something about seeing Eliot’s imagination laid out like this that absolutely lights me up on the inside.

I’m halfway through the new chapter when I see something that makes my heart stop beating. Like, straight up, the blood no longer moves through my veins. A bite of my sandwich plops onto the plate. My eyes are probably bugging out of my head Bugs Bunny style. I put my phone face-down on the countertop and stare at nothing. I pick up my phone and check. Yup. It’s still there.

I keep scrolling, see more, and I drop my sandwich completely.

The next few minutes are a blur. Only when I’m straddling my motorcycle, helmet strapped over my wet hair, do I even realize what I’m doing.

There I go, zipping toward stoplights, weaving my way through Brooklyn and into Queens.

Trent is the one who answers the door.

“Jess. Whoa!” He stumbles as I push past him.

“Jack! Jack!”

“Jessie, he’s got a girl back there, I wouldn’t—”

I don’t give a shit. I stride right up to Jack’s bedroom door and bang on it with the side of a closed fist.

“What the—Jessie?” There’s my dear brother, standing in his open door, his look of confused anger giving way to confused chagrin when he recognizes me. There is, in fact, a girl sitting on his bed. But she’s fully clothed and I thank God for small miracles. “What are you doing here?” Jack glances behind him at the girl on the bed. “My sister,” he tells her.

I lean around him. “His very pissed-off sister.”

Jack closes the bedroom door behind him and leads me into the living room. Trent stands in the kitchen, nosy as ever. I don’t care. Let them all hear what I have to say.

I dig in my pocket and pull out my phone. I pull up Eliot’s webcomic and shove the whole thing into Jack’s hand. “Look. Look at this.”

His brow furrows for a moment, but as soon as he registers what’s on the screen, his expression clears into amused surprise. “Is this you?”

“Yes.” I point at the screen. “This webcomic has tens of thousands of subscribers. It’s like, really high on the download charts. People are rabid for this thing.”

“Okay . . .”