“That must’ve been…” I didn’t know what to say. I was still thinking about his mom dying. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

“Thanks.” He held my gaze a moment before looking away. “I don’t really remember her. I found a box of pictures and she was in several of them. Those are all the memories I have. But I was three when she died, so—” He shrugged.

“How could her death have been your fault, then?” I already decided I didn’t like ...