“So, Jasper. That whole emotion-control thing,” he said, setting a boundary. A firm one. He was changing the subject to keep me out of his personal business. My stomach twisted, but only I knew it. I was playing the part of a chill girl who you can hang out with . . . order takeout and talk about Twilight. Kael’s line in the sand was drawn, so I followed him through my pretend Door B and moved the topic back to vampires.

“He was also a soldier,” I added, trying not to show much emotion. I was happy that he let me in, even for the few seconds it lasted. I waved my nails in the air to try to make them dry faster.

Kael’s hands touched the tiny stubble on his chin. I knew it would be gone soon, due to regulations and all.

“He was,” he said and nodded. “Wait, wasn’t he a Confederate soldier?”

My hand covered my mouth. “I’ve never thought about it like that,” I admitted. Yikes.

Kael rubbed his hands together inches from my face.

“Well that changes things,” I instantly decided.

“People can do things that you don’t like, and you can still like them.” He paused a for a moment. “Especially fictional characters. They’re meant to make us question ourselves, aren’t they? Sometimes the shittiest ones can teach us the most. That’s the point, the balance between good and evil and all that.”

“But a Confederate soldier is . . .”

“Bad. Pretty fucking bad,” he affirmed. “But you didn’t write the thing. And you don’t like that part of the character. Just as I don’t love that main guy, Derek, from American History X. He’s an ex-Nazi and a total piece of shit, but it’s one of my favorite films and he does the right thing in the end. Sometimes we find comfort in stories that aren’t perfect. People are complicated, you know?”

“Everyone has a backstory,” I said, my voice less confident than his, but he made me feel like he wanted to hear me. “When I was younger, I would always make excuses for everyone’s behavior. My dad said it’s the thing that made me weak.”

Kael’s voice was soft but quick to come. “You mean empathy?”

I looked away from his eyes and up at the ceiling.

“I guess so,” I said, fragments of traumatic experiences flipping through my mind. Every time I gave someone a pass I was trying to do the right thing. But in the end my dad’s harsh judgment became the only lens that mattered.

“Making excuses for someone’s bad behavior isn’t always the same thing as finding the reason why they are that way.” Kael looked at me patiently.