He thought of his mother, who’d only just been granted his company again—thought of Oliver, who needed guidance—and thought of Alan. Who’d never needed Jack at all, but wanted him, in that artless and ferocious way that Jack found so devastating. It’d destroy me, Edwin had said, of losing Robin. Jack had already been destroyed by a loss once. Instead of letting anyone else pick up the pieces, he’d taken them away on his own and let them heal at strange angles.
