“What was you?” I ask again. “This.” He tips his head at the door. “I fixed it the other day when I came over and grabbed your stuff.” His tone is so fucking melancholy right now, it kills me. “You didn’t have to do that,” I say. “I would’ve gotten a new one eventually.” Jake’s shoulder jerks, like this is nothing. No big deal. When I can easily list this in a category of the nicest things ever done for me. “Fuck, Jake. Thank you.”
