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What do I want to know?Everything.

Did he have his own room? Birthday cakes and wrapped presents? A packed lunch waiting on the counter? Did anyone come to his school plays or clap just for him? Did he ever fall asleep knowing someone would still want him in the morning? Was there food in the fridge—his food—or a light left on just because he was afraid of the dark?

Did anyone ever make him feel like he didn’t have to earn their love just to stay?

Was there ever a moment—just one—when he didn’t feel like he had to prove he was worth keeping?

I don’t ask any of that. Instead, I go for the safest option I can find. “Are your parents still together?”

He grins. “Oh yeah. Still crazy about each other after thirty-five years.”

I tilt my head, half-sneering. “I seriously doubt that.”

He laughs and abandons his coffee to grab his phone. “I’ll show you.”

Before I can say I’m not interested in family photo albums, he punches in his passcode and shoves the screen in front of me.

“Last year. Their anniversary dinner.”

I squint at the photo. An older couple beams back at me—not the fake kind of smile people paste on for pictures, but the real deal. Eyes crinkled, joy radiating off them like warmth from a fire.

His dad looks like a broader, slightly older version of him—same green eyes, same confident posture, full head of salt-and-pepper hair. His mom is soft-featured, pretty in a way she probably doesn’t think about anymore, with shoulder-length hair she’s left to grey and a loose pastel blouse chosen for comfort, not vanity.

They look happy. Not perfect, not posed. Just… content.

The photo is so unbelievably real, and Mick is so proud, that my jealousy bone snaps. “I hate to tell you, but your dad has probably cheated on your mom multiple times.”

Mick pulls the phone away from me. The corner of his mouth drags down, and a spark of anger flashes in his eyes. “You say that because your entire view of the world and everyone in it is skewed by the people who’ve let you down.”

Heat ignites inside me, and I get to my feet. “And you’ve got your head in the clouds if you think anyone can be faithful for that long.”

He grits his teeth and rams his connector into the phone. “They can if they love each other.”

A bitter laugh escapes me. “What happens when theydon’tlove each other anymore?”

His chest puffs out a little. “Then there’s the commitment they’ve made. The contracts they signed.”

I wave my hands in the air, my breathing rate starting to increase as emotion makes my voice crack. “Contracts can bebroken.People do it all the time. They promise to do something then walk away.”

He jerks away from me, a horrified expression replacing the anger. “Is that what happened to you? Someone promised to love you?”

My breath catches. Just like that, he’s stripped me bare. I blink hard, but it’s no use—he’s already seen too much.

“What?” I manage, though it barely makes it past my throat.

His gaze sharpens, narrowing like he’s zeroing in on the truth. “When you were a kid. Someone promised to love you… then changed their mind, didn’t they?”

Something twists deep in my chest—something old, bruised, and not quite healed.

I shift my gaze to the floor, jaw tight, willing the sting behind my eyes to fade. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” I take a step, but he skirts around me. To avoid his gaze, I focus on his socks covering my feet.

“Look at me,” he says softly.

When I don’t, his fingers tug my chin upward, forcing me to meet his gaze. His face is pinched as though in pain.

“You do count,” he says.

My stupid eyes let me down again, so I push his chest hard enough to warn him. “Says who?”