3:46 a.m.

When you wake up, all that consumes you is one singular thought:

You didn’t get the job. Instead, you had run away. Jack had managed to stop you.

Now, humiliated, you climb out of his bed- which he so firmly suggested you stay in while recovering from the stress of the day- repeating the memory over and over again in your head.

You make your way downstairs. In the dark, Jack lies still on his navy couch. His voice is scratchy and thick with sleep.

“Do you need something?”