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“I saw you that night,” he says as we move on to the drawers. “At the bar.”

Rather than sorting silverware, I dump it all in a box. I’ll make sure it goes with Keaton.

“When?” I ask.

“You were leaving with that dude. I held the door for you when he didn’t.” He points at himself and mouths,Gentleman.

I laugh, and he smiles, sliding the drawer back in for me.

“You said, ‘Thank you,’ but never looked up.”

I lean a hip on the counter, remembering the gesture, just not him. “I looked back after you said, ‘You’re welcome,’ but you were already walking in.”

“Well, that’s bad timing.” He flips over another drawer full of utensils. The metal clangs as it pours out.

We finish packing up the kitchen, and he sets the final box among all the others. I look around at the last four years of my life. Sorted into stacks of brown cardboard that will sit in darkness indefinitely.

“Portland, huh?” Dane’s back on his stool.

I hand him a beer from the fridge and take out two more, keeping my word to Liam. “For now. I’m not really sure where I’ll end up yet. My sublease is for three months, so maybe San Francisco after that. Or somewhere on the East Coast.”

“You graduate college and become a drifter?” He opens his bottle and another for me, eyeing the third but not asking.

He isn’t far off, but drifter makes me think of moving without direction or purpose. I know what I want. I just don’t know where to find it.

“More like an explorer.”

“Drifter.”

“Adventurer.”

He props himself on his elbows, narrowing his eyes at me. “I’ve seen two boxes marked for you. Everything else is Keaton, donations, or storage unit. You’re going to be a drifter.”

I sip my beer and shrug. “I’m cool with it.”

I retreat to my room for the last few boxes.

Dane follows, eyes scanning the bare walls and empty closet. “What did it look like in here before?” Before I can answer, he flips open a flap on a box and pulls out a candleholder. “Where was this?”

“On the dresser.”

He sets it down, so the blue and purple glass tiles catch the light. “And this?” It’s a picture of Keaton and me at her sixteenth birthday party. “Wait, let me guess.” He walks toward the dresser and then veers to the nightstand beside the bed. “Here.”

I nod, and he heads back for more. This time, he doesn’t even ask, placing things around the room.

“Are you planning on unpacking everything?”

He crosses in front of me with a jewelry box. “I’m curious what you kept closest. We surround ourselves with reminders of what matters most to us. The more important something is, the closer we want it. Keaton’s obvious.” He puts the jewelry box next to her picture and steps back, examining the empty space in front of it. “What goes there?”

I play with the label on my beer, pretending not to hear him. He doesn’t know me.

“You have it on right now, don’t you?”

“No.” But my eyes betray me and flit to my bracelet.

“Can I see?” He walks over, holding out his hand, and I give him my arm.

He turns it over as he traces the black braided cable until his fingers stop at the silver rectangle covering my inner wrist. “Seek,” he reads the word inscribed and looks up, eyes on mine. “What are you looking for, Bennett?” He says my name like it’s the answer to his question, and I pull my hand back.

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