“And the creator of it drew me into it. He created a character out of me. Me! And look. She’s totally badass.” To my dismay, this morning’s tears are creeping up my throat again. I scroll further down to show where the character, named JB in the comic, shows up out of nowhere to karate chop this dumbass character who I, coincidentally in real life, have been wanting to karate-chop for about the last sixteen chapters. And there I am. Drawn into the comic. Nose piercing, tattoos, sloppy bun, work boots and all. In all my glory. I’m a new character.

“Jess, this is cool. But you’ve kind of lost me.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with the creator of this comic. Like actually.” Trent makes a noise behind me, but I don’t care or pay attention. “He’s a friend of mine. Someone who I . . . And he drew me into this world. This private world he hasn’t told anyone about and he . . . What does this tell you, Jack? That he created a character after me?”

Jack looks lost, but he’s not a dummy. “Um . . . probably that he loves you back?”

“Probably! Probably, right? I’m in stupid love with this wonderful, gentle, creative, hilarious, kind person, and it sure as hell looks like he’s interested.” I take the phone and waggle it aggressively. “But I can’t do anything about that, Jack. I can’t do a fucking thing about that, and you want to know why?”

He grabs the back of his neck and looks apprehensive. “Um. Sure?”

I drop down so that I’m sitting on the coffee table in front of Jack. Our knees hit together and I lean forward and shove at his shoulder so hard, his hand comes up to rub where I hit him.

“I can’t do anything about how I feel about him, because you held a fucking gun to his face two months ago.”

All the color leaves Jack’s face at once.

“I can’t even tell this guy how I feel about him because my jerk brother tried to rob his house, put a gun in his face, and fucking traumatized him. What kind of problems are these, Jack? Why the hell are these my problems?”

“Jess . . . I . . .”

I know why he’s at a loss for words. Because he didn’t even know that I knew the burglar was him.

“He described you to the police, Jack. All the way down to your tattoos. It was my second night as that building’s super and you thought it would be a good idea to try and rob one of Pops’s tenants? What the hell, Jack? What the hell is wrong with you?”