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“I know.”

His jaw flexes while he stares at our reflection. “I didn’t ask to stay with you.”

“You never do.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re standing outside at the end of October without a coat.”

“It’s refreshing.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m cold.”

The lie would sound better if his voice didn’t break around it.

I remove my coat and shove it against his chest. Briggs looks down at it, and something changes behind his eyes. His fingers close around the fabric before he turns his face away from me.

The elevator carries us higher while the numbers glow above the doors.

“She called,” he says.

I don’t ask who.

“She used someone else’s number because I blocked hers.” His laugh scrapes across the mirrored walls without holding any humor. “I answered like a fucking idiot.”

“What did she want?”

“The usual. She misses me. She’s changed. Her therapist thinks I’m cruel for abandoning her while she’s struggling.”

“Her therapist didn’t say that.”

“I know.”

“Lyric said it.”

“I fucking know, Ry.”

His voice strikes the elevator hard enough to make the silence afterward feel crowded. I hold his gaze in the mirror until his shoulders lower.

“What happened to the woman?” I ask.

“She touched my face.”

The words are quiet.

I wait.

Briggs rubs his thumb along the edge of my coat. “She reached for me, and I flinched. She acted like she didn’t notice, which somehow made it worse. I bought her a car home before she could ask what was wrong with me.”

“There is nothing wrong with you.”

“Excellent. I’ll let my nervous system know.”

The elevator opens onto my floor.

He follows me without another argument.