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“Because he’s amazing. Dad saw that.”

“Great. How?”

I dig through the memories. Bryce’s excitement as he told me that Dad was going to give him a trial for the internship. His disbelief and gratitude to his own dad for helping him get in there. Golf buddies.

“My dad knows Bryce’s dad. He saw Bryce’s potential.”

“Great stuff.” Jack finishes up his coffee. “Right, I got this. So, Bryce is your dad’s lapdog at work, because your dad is his big mentor and all that. Business circles run tight, Bryce would be fucked if your dad fired him, and on top of that his own father would grill the hell out of him if he did. Probably be horrified at the failure.”

Damn, Jack’s good, but his framing of it is so fucking cold. So callous.

“It’s not like that.”

“No?” Jack holds his hands up. “Maybe I’m wrong, then. Correct my errors.”

I’m befuddled. Struggling for words. My heart is pounding fast as I try to mark out the discrepancies.

“I mean it, it’s not like that,” I say, and Jack’s joker smile comes out.

“Got it, didn’t I? I’m on form.”

“The job thing is just one thing,” I tell him. “It has its place, no doubt, but it’s just a part of it.”

“I suspect it’s a bigger part of it than you think it is, Soul Girl.”

I shake my head as the memory comes back. The grand moment I fucked it all up.

“There is much more to it than that.”

Jack rubs my leg with his foot, showing good intention. I know the prickles are all mine, at the thought of Dad doing that to Bryce.

“You were close friends, weren’t you?” Jack says. “Years ago, I mean.”

“Our dads were golf buddies. Still are. We got to hang out a lot when we were young. It was cool.”

“Cool?” Jack raises an eyebrow. “I imagine it was a lot more than cool. You two must have been like two peas in a pod.”

Jack smiles at me and it’s weird how soothing his calmness is.

“Bryce and I are not exactly cardboard cutouts of each other,” I say. “We’re very different.”

“Puzzle pieces that fit together the best are never the same shape, are they?”

That line gets me. Puzzle pieces that fit together. Tears prick again at the memories. All the laughter, the chatting in my summer house when Dad and Phil were out golfing. The way we’d be messaging all evening, even after we’d spent the whole day together.

We could finish each other’s sentences. One shared glance, and I’d know exactly what he was thinking. The moments of hilarity where we’d both get the giggles at once and be rolling around in hysterics.

Late night heart to hearts.

Confessions.

Pondering. Questioning. Wondering.

“I reckon he fell first,” Jack says. “It’s a hard shot to call, as you’re the one that’s wrecked about him bailing, but that’s where my stakes are. He fell first.”

I don’t say anything. My eyes just focus hard on his, my mind snapped back to the present.

Jack stares at me, and I stare at Jack. His eyes narrow, his head tilts, but he doesn’t speak, just gives a hmm.