Jenny looked at the trembling lip on eleven-year-old Harry and his more stoic older brother, thirteen-year-old Thomas. The home wouldn’t normally take someone as young as Harry, but they had two beds available, and the young boy had gone from screaming fits to convulsions at the thought of being separated from his brother. Which was why she’d spent the morning setting up a temporary bed so the two of them could share a room until they’d had a chance to work with Harry enough to get him comfortable going to his own bed.

The clothes would need burning by the looks of them, and by the state of the boys’ hair, they were going to need to endure one more traumatic event by having it cropped incredibly short. She could see the lice crawling from where she stood, and they wouldn’t even be able to begin to get a lice comb through the matting. Then, as quickly as she could, she’d plan an opportunity for them to see their four sisters. The two middle girls had gone to a different group home, and the four-year-old twins had been found a temporary foster home. It hurt her heart to see families separated like that, but at short notice it was all the city could manage.

“Simon is going to help you boys get cleaned up and give you some clean clothes while I go make you some food,” she said softly. “You must be very hungry. Would you like a small snack now to tide you over?”

Her heart broke as Harry looked to Thomas for permission.

“Yes,” Thomas said.

There would be a time to work on manners, on remembering his please and thank-yous, but this wasn’t it. Not after they’d been held at gunpoint by their own father because their mother had tried to leave. Not after they’d witnessed their father lose control and kill their mom in cold blood in the kitchen and then attempt—and fail—to kill himself. Jenny prayed he would recover so he could face the full extent of the charges. Men who plotted and committed murder belonged behind bars—like her father.

After she’d gotten the boys an apple and a cookie, she met Maisey, Ellen’s social worker wife, and led her into the kitchen. “I’m so glad you were assigned to their case, Maisey. They need a strong advocate like you.”

Maisey’s short black bob swung as she pulled out a stool on one side of the island and sat down. The woman didn’t look a day over forty, despite being close to her mid-fifties. “I was thinking the same thing about you. You have quite the record of working with troubled boys.”

“I learned from the best. I saw what you and Ellen created for the boys here.” Jenny plated some cookies and poured Maisey some coffee the way she liked it.

“I think we all do the best we can, right? . . . Outside of the home, how are you settling in?”

Jenny took a bite of cookie and looked out of the window briefly before turning back to Maisey. She didn’t really know how to answer. “Fine, I guess. I mean, being here is great, and the apartment is brighter than I expected.”

Maisey took a cookie from the plate and looked around the kitchen conspiratorially. “I know it’s none of my business, Jenny, but I heard from Jordan that Nik flew you to New York on Sunday. And while I love that boy like he is my own, I have never been able to condone the way he treated you back then. Are you okay?”

Warmth filled Jenny, something that had been missing from her life for way too long. When she’d made the decision to return, she hadn’t been sure what kind of reception she’d receive, but Ellen and Maisey had shown exactly how compassionate they were by welcoming her back as if she’d never been away. “We’re working on being friends,” she answered carefully. It was the truth. After their meaningful conversation outside the restaurant, they’d gone on to eat a wonderful meal that had included scallops with caramelized cauliflower and spice-crusted venison. They’d kept the conversation light. He’d shared funny stories from Preload’s ascent to their position as metal rock royalty, including a time he’d gotten locked in the bathroom of the tour bus and had missed the first two songs before the driver had returned and heard him banging. The roadie who’d stepped in for Nik had thoroughly enjoyed his ten and a half minutes of fame. She’d told him about how naïve she’d been about what being a social worker would be like, and how it had taken the first four years to actually adjust to the reality of the job. She’d shared her frustrations at the bureaucracy of it, and her ideas for how it could be improved.

By the time they’d boarded the flight home, she’d been exhausted from the amount of food they’d eaten and their conversation. Embarrassingly, she’d fallen asleep on his shoulder, and had woken with his arm around her.

“I’m okay,” she said, feeling uncharacteristically optimistic. “Nik said something that reassured me. He said that he couldn’t promise the process of us getting to friends was going to be easy, which I totally understand. And he knows I’m going to ask questions and need answers to things that are going to be painful before we can move on. It’s a gross analogy, but it’s a bit like a boil that needs lancing. It isn’t going to get better until we’ve blown it open and cleaned inside.”

Maisey nodded. “It’s a perfect analogy. You know, I would give anything to see Nik and all of my boys happy, but not if it comes at your expense.”

Jenny smiled and reached across the island counter. “I really appreciate that, Maisey. And in the spirit of not setting up any false expectations as to what my goals are here, I’m seeing this as a way to gain closure. There’s a huge difference between dealing with something painful and just boxing it up and burying it deep.”

A loud scream sounded from up the stairs, and Jenny jumped to her feet. “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, Maisey, and let you know how the boys have settled,” she said as she hurried up the stairs.

When she got to the bathroom, Harry was stripped down to his underpants and was tucked in the small space between the wall and the toilet. His hair was now buzzed very close to his scalp, and tears poured down his face.

Simon was crouched low on the other side of the bathroom, making himself as small and unintimidating as possible. “Hey, Jenny,” he said quietly and calmly. “Harry doesn’t want a bath.”

Thomas appeared next to Jenny, tears ringing his eyes. “It’s Dad’s fault . . . he . . . if we didn’t . . . he . . .” Thomas’s words slid into silent sobs, and Jenny turned to face him and gently placed her hand on his shoulders.

“You’re safe, Thomas. Both of you are,” she said, taking a moment to look at Harry. “Whatever you say here is safe. No one will hit you, or call you names, or do anything that will compromise your safety.”

Harry’s screams became hiccups as his sobs subsided.

“Why doesn’t Harry want to get in the bath, Thomas? It’s okay for you to tell us so we can help him.”

Harry shook his head, violently. “We’ll get in trouble,” he said, his little voice hoarse.

Thomas looked at her, his eyes questioning, clearly torn. “You won’t tell Dad, will you?”

Jenny shook her head. “I won’t. But I can’t guarantee I won’t tell your social worker or the police if I feel you were endangered in some way. My only priority is the safety of the two of you.”

Thomas dropped to his knees and crawled over to Harry, who crept out of the small space and launched himself into Thomas’s arms. “My dad liked to play a game where he’d try to drown us, sometimes in the toilet, other times in the bath.”

Jenny dropped to her knees, and Simon moved from crouching to sitting with his back against the bath. She could tell that, like her, Simon realized that if they tried to move the two boys, the progress would be lost. “How often did that happen?” she asked. But looking at the streaks of dirt that covered their skin, she had already guessed the answer.

“Whenever he found us in the bathroom.”

Dear God. She’d read in the file that Harry still had accidents, but it made total sense. The child must be terrified of the bathroom. She’d have to ask for the help of the other boys in the house with this. No one could ever disturb him in there; it would terrify him. Maybe she’d redirect everyone else to the other bathrooms.

“Harry,” she said quietly. “Simon is quickly going to do Thomas’s hair, and then he and I are going to leave. And Thomas, why don’t you stay? You can lock the door behind us so nobody can come in and bother you.” There was no way she was going to tell him that it was a safety lock that could be opened from the outside. That could come later. “Let Harry have a bath for as long as he wants, for as long as he feels safe. But you need to use the special shampoo and soap over there,” she said, pointing to the bottles on the side of the tub. “When you are dry, bundle yourself up in your towel, and I’ll have some clean clothes ready for you in your room. Then you can do the same thing, Thomas. Okay?”

Both boys nodded. “Thank you, Jenny,” Thomas said.

“You’re welcome, Thomas. Everything is going to be okay.”

The looks in both their eyes told her they didn’t believe her.

She stepped into the office, closed the door, and leaned back against it. There really was no limit to the ways in which adults could abuse children. She thought of Nik and the way he’d lost his mother. She thought of her father and the letter she’d received. Then her phone buzzed.

She checked it. A new message from Nik.

What time do you finish tomorrow?

Early shift, as always. She’d gone from being a night owl with Nik to an early bird on her own. There had never been any reason to stay up late, and waking up alone in an unfamiliar bed had been something she simply couldn’t handle.

Through the window, she saw a beautiful red cardinal land on the bird feeder. For a moment, she considered that in among the shit life offered, there were random snatches of beauty. Was she foolish to keep Nik at arm’s length?

She took a deep breath and looked out of the window. Leaves were starting to lose their fight with nature, fluttering to the ground in the breeze. If she answered, she knew for sure he was going to ask her to meet him, to do something. Being with him in New York had been a fantasy. It had allowed her to step back in time a little and remember what it was like to simply be with Nik. But could she do it back here in Toronto?

Friends.

Could she live with that?

Why was she flip-flopping?

Quickly she typed a response before she chickened out. Six.

I’ll be waiting outside.

Why?

The dots bounced on the screen and she bit her lip, curious what his intentions were.

Because I’ve waited three days already.

Dots.

Because I’m trying not to crowd you.

Dots.

Because I can’t wait until the day after.

Dots.

Because I missed you.

Dots.

Because I love talking with you.

Dots.

Because I get hard when I think about you.

Dots.

Because waiting is what I am willing to do until you see me as who I am now, not who I was then.

Dots.

Because you are worth every fucking hoop you ask me to jump through.

Jenny read each message and then pressed her phone to her heart and tried to come up with an answer.

Two possibilities screamed at her. One from her head.

And the other from her heart.

* * *

The gig at the rock festival in Florida had been one for the history books, but Nik had hated every minute of it.

Nothing had felt right. Nothing had sounded right.

For the first time ever, he’d felt uncomfortable on stage. He’d felt displaced.

And he knew the reason why.

Because Florida was fourteen hundred miles away from Toronto and the only person he really wanted to be with. The person he needed to convince that they had a future together.

Plus, Ryan had been on his back about the TV show, and he still hated the idea just as much as he had when Ryan first raised it.

“Dear fucking God,” Dred said as the CN Tower came into view from the window of the private jet. He looked at Nik over the top of the book he was reading—What to Expect When You’re Expecting. “I am so glad I am not a woman. In fact, I think I’m gonna stop off at Tiffany on the way home and buy Pix some real expensive shit.”

Nik laughed. “Whatever it is you just read, I don’t want to know.”

“Baby Zander’s teeth are growing in his jaw, Pix’s tits are getting ready to produce something I can’t even pronounce, and there is some shit about increased vaginal discharge that just put me off sex for the next month.” Dred closed the book and put it down on the table between the two of them. “Like seriously, my fiancée is hot as shit, but even I wonder if there is any coming back from this. Part of me thinks it’s a miracle, and the rest of me thinks it’s like the opening scene in Alien. You know, where that fucking creature eats its way out of that person’s gut.”

“For what it’s worth,” Nik said. “I strongly suggest you never repeat any of that shit to Pix.”

Dred grinned. “Never. Especially seeing that being pregnant has her hot for me twenty-four seven, which is just about the same way I’ve felt about her for the last year and a half.”

“I envy you,” Nik said before he had the chance to process the thought. “Not Pix,” he added with a laugh. “But this. Engagement, marriage, kids. Plans. A life for the two of you.”

Dred ran his fingers over the pregnant tummy on the cover of the book. “In all the years, I never thought I’d get this. I thought I’d be a shit adult. A dropout. But I have Pix. And my baby girl. And the little beansprout. And a home. All of the other shit could go away, and I’d still be this stupid fucking happy, Nik.”

The words, said with such unadulterated joy, cut through Nik. He was so far away from being able to say that about his life that his chest hurt.

Nik looked out of the window. His guess was that they’d be landing at the island airport in ten minutes.

“You okay, dude?” Dred asked. “You’ve been quiet.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Nik said in response.

Dred took a sip of water. “Anything.”

“Ryan wants me to appear on this show about tracing your history. Different celebrity each week. One-hour show. Says it will help smooth over the whole video thing, show me in a different light. But I’m not feeling it.”

“So, what’s the question?”

Nik sighed. What was the fucking question? “So much shit has happened, I can’t help but think they are going to turn me into a sympathy story. And I hate the idea that my dad’s and grandparent’s histories are some privileged white guy’s idea of fucking entertainment.”

“So don’t do it,” Dred said.

“Do you think I should do it?” Nik asked.

Dred ran his fingers through his hair. “Can’t answer that for you. It’s easy to sit here as a white guy and say it sounds like a good idea, but what the fuck do I know?”

Nik looked back out of the window.

“Is that what’s been on your mind the last week?” Dred asked. “You’ve been . . . I don’t know. You’ve always been our even keel, man. Seeing you out of sorts is weird.”

He had. He’d been there for all of them. When he’d struggled to adapt to their life of fame, they’d stood by him. And now they were all moving on with their lives, and he was still stuck where he’d been. Nik ran his hands through his hair and gave it a tug. “Yeah, I guess so,” he said, knowing full well it was a lie. But as always, he didn’t want to burden any of them with his shit. He’d hidden his real feelings about just about everything for as long as he could remember.

The plane landed and they hopped into three limos. Once upon a time, they would have all got into one and gone straight to the address they used to share. Now Jordan and Dred went off to their homes in Bloor West Village, and Lennon went off to midtown. Nik jumped into a limo with Elliott.

“Was it me, or was Lennon an even bigger dick than usual this weekend?” Elliott said, switching his phone back on.

Lennon had been. But Nik hadn’t the energy to get involved like he usually did and smooth it over. He was exhausted.

“I mean, perhaps you could give him a shout tomorrow and ask him to rein it in,” Elliott added, still looking down at his phone. Likely telling Kendalee he was on his way home.

“And why do I need to do that?” he asked. Why did they always assume he’d fix it? He’d gotten in the middle of so many fights over the years. Fights that had left him physically and emotionally bruised. But if he hadn’t stepped in, if he hadn’t played peacemaker, he was certain Preload wouldn’t have survived their first year of success.

Elliott looked up, surprise etching his features. “Because he listens to you. You are the only one he’ll listen to. If I call him up, he’ll call me a douche and hang up.”

“You know, a day’s gonna come when you guys are going to have to fight your own battles.”

“You thinking of going somewhere?” Elliott asked. He raised an eyebrow. “We can totally fight our own shit, but why might you not be there?”

Nik shook his head. “Forget I said anything. I’m just tired.”

“Really? Are you sure that’s all that’s going on?”

The limo pulled up in front of Nik’s new home, and for the first time he thought of it as his own sanctuary. “Yeah. I’m sure,” he said, sitting forward on his seat and slapping Elliott on the shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He stepped out of the limo and waited as the driver got his suitcase out of the trunk. With a quick thanks, he hurried up the steps and opened the door to the whirring sound of high-pitched drills and the inaudible ramble of a radio DJ. Nik dropped his suitcase in the hall and jogged up to the third floor. Everyone had suggested he get the renovation done while living elsewhere, but he was fed up of living distanced and protected from every inconvenience. The smell of sawdust, the rasp of files, the clatter of tools all helped him feel grounded.

“How is it going?” he asked Leo, the foreman, who was busy looking at a cluster of wires.

“Hey, Nik,” Leo said over his shoulder. “Go take a look at the bathroom.”

Nik stepped over a pile of wood, and his chest tightened in excitement, which was such a fucking girly emotion. The wall between the bathroom and the old second bedroom had been removed, and what had been bare bones before he’d left was starting to come together. A large Jacuzzi stood in one corner. His and hers shower stalls were partly installed, and he could see the large ceiling-mounted shower heads, which gave him hope that his days of dealing with stupid mustard tiles and terrible water pressure would soon be over.

“New water tank has been installed in the basement,” Leo said, stepping up behind him. “All new pipes. We had to rip out the walls in apartment four to bring the pipes up to the third floor. Didn’t think you’d mind, seeing you’re keeping yourself to apartment one.”

Nik shook his head. “Not at all. You could rip it all out for all I care.”

“Perfect. Well, I know you wanted your bathroom and bedroom done quickly. There’s every chance this could be usable here in another ten days. Won’t be pretty, or decorated, but it will be functional.”

He offered Leo his hand. “Thanks so much,” he said. And both men knew Nik meant thank you for more than just the reno. If Leo hadn’t taken a chance on Nik by giving him that first construction job all those years ago, there wouldn’t have been enough money to keep a roof above all their heads. Leo nodded, as was his way, and went back to the electrical work.

Nik jogged back down the stairs, shut the door to the apartment, flopped onto the bed, slipped in some noise-cancelling earbuds, and grabbed a couple of hours’ sleep.

Four hours later, after a quick shower, he found himself heading up the path to the group home just as the front door opened, allowing a burst of light onto the dark garden.

“Perfect timing,” he said to Jenny as she stepped outside. She tugged her coat around her as the mid-November wind blew down the street. Leaves whipped around them as she approached.

“Hey, Nik.” She twirled her keys around her finger, just like she’d always used to. It was a nervous habit, and seeing it gave him comfort that he was affecting her at least a little, if not quite as much as she was affecting him.

“I’d forgotten how badly I dealt with being away from you,” he murmured honestly and leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead, smiling softly when she sighed.

“Your text messages. They were . . .”

“Truthful? Persuasive? Honest?” He took her hand and led her to his car.

“Too much,” she said as he opened her door. “I don’t think you realize that you ruined me for everybody else. Including you,” she said. “I can’t do falling in love. I can’t do depending on someone else ever again.”

Nik placed his hand on her cheek. “I get it. That’s why I am here. I know I’ve got an uphill battle to get you to trust me again, but I’m ready to do the work. It’s going to take time, but I’m going to show you that it’s okay to depend on me because I’ll be there for you a thousand times over.”

Jenny held his gaze, and he was certain he could have pressed his lips to hers. But that wasn’t what Jenny needed. She needed him to put his money where his mouth was and show her she could trust him. Without a word, she slipped into his car, and he shut the door securely before joining her.

“Where are we going?” she asked when they turned onto Lake Shore Boulevard.

He didn’t want to ruin the surprise that they were going to retrace their steps. “You’ll see.” He pulled off Lake Shore into the parking lot that faced out over Lake Ontario. It was too dark to see the horizon, but the bright lights of the city could be seen in the distance around the shoreline. It had been one of their favorite things to do, take a street car across the city and hop off at Windermere so they could walk down to the waterfront and hike the ten kilometers along the lake back to Jenny’s group home.

Jenny turned to look at him. “I haven’t been here for years, Nik.” She got out of the car and waited for him as he got out and popped the trunk. “Do you remember how we’d bring subs and chips to—”

He lifted the Subway bag and showed it to her. “Six-inch sweet onion teriyaki on Italian. Tomatoes, cucumber, onion, green pepper. Sweet onion sauce and extra mayo.”

When she smiled at him, it lit up her face. “You remembered. Let me guess, twelve-inch on oat with tuna, bacon, and every topping known to man.”

Then he grinned. “Naturally.” He passed two blankets to her. “Can you carry those while I get the rest of this?” He grabbed the backpack he’d filled with treats. He’d learned quickly. The large arrangement of flowers had been too much he realized now, but he’d seen the way she’d smelled the forget-me-nots he’d picked. And despite enjoying herself, she’d scolded him for being too extravagant with the limo and trip to New York. While he wanted to shower her with everything she’d missed out on once he’d made it, all she wanted were the small personal things. He was happy to woo her with whatever made her happy. And from the smile on her face, takeout from Subway was just that.

They found a bench near the waterfront, where they could hear the water lapping, even if they couldn’t see very far. It was a clear night, and the moon reflected off the surface of the lake. Nik put everything he carried onto the ground and took the blankets from her, placing one on the bench. “Sit,” he offered.

She did as asked, and he placed the other blanket over her knees. “I feel like I’m ninety years old,” she said.

“Better to be looking ninety than telling me you want to leave because you’re cold. Which you would do. Often.” And yet she’d always dressed as if the temperature didn’t bother her. So much so that he’d gotten into the habit of wearing an extra long-sleeve Henley when they were younger because she’d inevitably ask him for his hoodie.

“Fair point,” she agreed. “I’ve missed your hoodies.” The voice was so quiet, he almost missed it.

Nik crouched down in front of her. “Hey.” He took both of her hands in his and kissed her knuckles. “This is the tough shit we need to get through. The hurt. The loss. Process it together and see what we’re left with.” He ran his finger down her cheek. “When I got back from the tour and I saw the pile of hoodies you’d stolen over the years sitting folded on the end of our bed, I lost my shit.” He rested his forehead on her knees and breathed deeply until he felt her fingers in his hair. “I couldn’t believe what I’d thrown away, how stupid I’d been.”

“Outside of us actually breaking up, this is the worst it’s ever going to be between us, right? As we try to make something from the pieces of us?” she asked, her voice filled with so much uncertainty that he couldn’t bear it.

He looked up at her and saw the hope in her eyes. “I hope so.”

* * *

She needed a moment to calm the roller coaster in her stomach and watched as Nik stood and opened the backpack. He pulled out a camping lamp, two bottles of water, and a large bag of all-dressed chips.

“You know, I once tried to explain all-dressed chips to a student from the States who was in my course in Ottawa. The idea of combining barbecue, sour cream and onion, ketchup, and salt and vinegar flavoring had her completely baffled. I remember buying a bag for her to try, and she was still confused.”

Nik popped the bag open and offered one to her. “Thankfully you can get ’em in the U.S. now, or we’d be taking boxes of them on tour with us.”

She tried not to flinch at the word “tour.” Tours were a part of his life, and she was going to have to get her head around that if she wanted to be friends. Thankfully, Nik didn’t notice, and eventually, after opening the water bottles and offering her one, he sat down next to her on the bench and unwrapped their subs.

They ate in a silence that wasn’t uncomfortable, even after the moment they’d shared. The water lapped at the shore, and the occasionally runner or dog walker would pass them and take in their impromptu picnic. When she’d finished her sub, she crumpled up the wrapper and tucked it back in the plastic bag the subs had come in. Nik did the same.

“Has it lived up to your expectations?” she asked. “Fame?”

Nik draped his arm over the back of the bench and looked up at the stars for a moment before turning to face her. “I think my relationship with what I do has changed over the years. When we first got those instruments from Maisey, it was all about having fun. Now, it’s a fucking machine. I’m a shareholder in three different companies. One for our tours. One for our merchandise. And one for our music. Up until last year, we’d been worked like a dog by Sam, the manager I told you about, the one who shot me. Now the guys are settling down, and I think we all want a bit more balance. Obviously from a financial perspective it’s been incredible . . .”

“But?” she asked.

Nik threaded his fingers through her hair. “I don’t know. I’ve felt restless this year. The music hasn’t been coming to me quite the way it did. I feel like something is missing. The spark, if you know what I mean.” He studied her face.

Jenny nodded. “I know what you mean. I felt that same kind of restlessness in Ottawa.”

“Can I ask you something, Jenny? How did you find out? I mean, it’s haunting me. It makes me sick to my stomach to think back to that moment. A part of me just wants to ignore what happened, but it will always hang between us.”

Her throat went tight and she took a sip of water to try to wet it.

This is the worst it’s ever going to be. This is the worst it’s ever going to be.

“I wasn’t joking the other day when I said the cover of People magazine. In the Loblaws at Queens Quay. I didn’t believe it at first. Thought it was just a stupid mistake.” She laughed sadly, remembering how her friend Steph had raised an eyebrow at the cover while Jenny had blown it off as the press always making things look way more salacious then they actually were. “Anyway, something made me pick it up off the shelf and flick to the story. My hands shook when I saw the images.” Kind of like they were now. She buried them under the blanket, suddenly feeling chilled to the bone.

“Jenny, I’m sorry, I should never have—”

“No,” she said, finding her strength. “I need to say it all, Nik.” Well, not all. She’d never tell Nik how she’d tried his phone, how Lennon had answered it for him. Tears began to burn her eyes, but she was determined to not cry. Not again. “You’d been pretty radio silent for a few days or so, and it so wasn’t like you. And the People thing was all speculative and grainy. So, I sat at home, in our bed, wearing the T-shirt you always let me sleep in when you were away, and did some web searching of my own. I thought if I could reassure myself it was a one-time thing, I might be able to get past it. But then I read her story, her full version of events. I knew it was over.”

Nik put his arm around her and pulled her close, pressing kisses to her temple. He shouldn’t be the one to comfort her, but she couldn’t imagine being this close to anybody else.

“Ellen was the first person to knock at the door the next morning. When she stepped inside, she noticed the suitcase. She tried to talk me out of leaving, asked me to go and stay with her and Maisey for a little while so that we could figure things out. Ever on your side, she said that even though the photos were so incriminating, I should give you a chance to let you explain. But I couldn’t, Nik. I couldn’t listen to you try to justify it. I knew you’d convince me it was okay, that we could figure it out.” The tears finally fell. “But I knew we couldn’t. I sensed it. I knew you’d outgrown me. You were restless.”

“No. No. That wasn’t it at all. God, Jenny, you were the only thing keeping me together. When I lost you, I lost my anchor. Fuck.” Nik stood up and paced over to the water then paced back again. “I don’t even know where to begin.” He sat down on the bench but faced her completely.

She could see the pain in his eyes, recognized it because it matched her own.

“Somewhere along the way I lost track of what was important. Shit, I lost myself.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I was what, twenty-two, nearly twenty-three maybe? So much shit had happened I felt like I was forty. I spent all that time making sure the band was taken care of. Jordan got out of care but he, well, he struggled with job interviews. And Dred, he was all about the music and never thought about the practicalities of it not making any money. Elliott was . . . his record held him back. And Lennon was unpredictable. At first, all I cared about was that we all made it out of care, that we all had somewhere to stay and sleep. But then it carried on. I’d been the parent—I still am—of the group for so fucking long. And until we found Sam, our first manager at a gig, I had been managing all the gigs and bookings. You remember how that was, right?”

Jenny ran her fingers beneath her eyes to catch the tears that had spilled over. “I knew you were busy, but I honestly thought it was what you wanted, what you had been working for all those years.”

Nik sighed and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I thought it was too. But I was fed up of being the sensible one. I was fed up of always trying to do the right thing.” He said it all in past tense, even though so much of it still rang true. “And I can’t even make sense of it all now because in some ways, I still feel the same. Hell, I still act the same. Taking care of shit. I mean . . . fuck. My dad just wanted me to be more. More than he was. Happier than he was. Have more than he did. And I felt this sense of responsibility after everything my grandparents had gone through to make those sacrifices add up to something without feeling like a fucking outsider.”

“So, what happened? I mean, how did you go from saying goodbye to me in the shower that morning to sleeping with . . . ?” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Before I left, a whole bunch of bills came in for the house. Rent. Electric. Gas. And we had no money. Your part-time job only paid so much of your tuition, and you needed money to live while I was away. The label hadn’t paid us much for our first album, and we hadn’t seen royalties. Elliott, Jordan, and Lennon were out of work. Dred was part-time in a record store, but only after I’d told him we were broke. We were swimming in debt, and I didn’t know how to fix it, short of refusing to do the tour without seeing money. Everyone thinks once you sign a deal, you’ve made it, but so much is out-of-pocket expense.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Jenny asked. “I had no idea things were so tight for us.”

“What was the point of worrying everyone? Elliott and Lennon were trying to get work, but it was hard to find work that allowed us to tour. Not everybody was as good as Leo was to me. Anyway, despite the fact we were already getting a lot of press, the tour was a basic launch tour. Too many cities, no rest breaks, tight living quarters. Jordan and Lennon had gotten into a fight on the bus before we’d even pulled into the venue in Boston. Trying to separate them, I ended up with a black eye. And when we walked inside, the setup was all wrong. While I was trying to fix it, the guys had helped themselves to a beer at the bar without bothering to lock up the van. So two of our guitars were stolen out of the back. I went off on the guys because . . . for fuck’s sake, why couldn’t any of them get off their asses and help? We needed to fix the setup, we needed to call the police to report the guitars stolen, and we needed to replace at least one of the guitars to be able to perform. And it wasn’t just that night, Jenny. It had been like that for most of the gigs. I’d do all the work, and they’d show up on stage to perform. So, I told them to fuck off. That I wasn’t performing. That I wasn’t figuring it out. And I left the bar.”

Nik removed his arm from around her and rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. She could see the tension in his shoulders, could hear him curse silently under his breath.

“Where did you go?”

He looked at her from the corner of his eye. “I feel ill at the thought of telling you all this. It’s really fucking painful.”

Her stomach agreed. She felt sick and placed her water down on the floor. “Not knowing has driven me crazy over the years, because I have quite the imagination. It would be better to know the truth now than to spend the rest of my life wondering.”

Silence fell between the two of them, but she knew Nik well enough to know he was just collecting his thoughts.

“I walked to this hole-in-the-wall bar in Boston and took a seat in the corner. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. So, I ordered a beer. Then another one. Then another one. And I swear, I kept thinking I should just hop on a plane and come back to you . . . God, I can’t do this, Jenny. I thought I could.”

Pain ripped through her at the agony in his voice. “Remember what you said to me,” she said. “I can’t promise the process of being friends is going to be easy. You’re going to ask me questions that I’m going to hate answering with words you are going to hate hearing. Well, I hate this too, Nik. But you owe me the truth.”

His shoulders sagged and he shook his head as he looked down at the floor. “It was . . . I . . . fuck.” Nik turned in his seat and looked at her. He swallowed deeply and took a deep breath.

“A brunette in a Red Sox jersey two sizes too tight came up to me and we got to talking. And she didn’t know who I was. And she asked nothing of me. She didn’t need me to pay rent, to fix shit, to organize stuff. Told me her apartment was just across the street and her roommate was studying late, and I saw an out. For one night, I could be me for the sake of being me. But you know what the irony was? For a couple of hours I felt free, but when it was over, I felt fucking worse. I felt like a shit. I missed the gig, all the problems I had before were still there, and, fuck, I couldn’t face you. I looked down at my phone and saw that I’d missed your call. And I knew I’d fucked everything up because I knew I’d have to tell you. That you deserved to know.”

Jenny sobbed. She couldn’t help herself. She cried for herself, reliving the pain of that decision, and she cried for Nik, who’d been so overwhelmed.

Nik looked at her, tears streaking his own face. “I tried to get home that day. I was at the airport, trying to figure out how the fuck I was going to afford the airfare home, when Sam, our manager, called me up, reaming me a new one. Told me the label was furious that I’d been a no-show. We’d been in negotiation with them for two more albums and they threatened to pull the contracts if we were unreliable. All because of me, the most reliable one of the fucking bunch. I told him I needed to get to you before the media did, that I wanted to tell you face-to-face.”

“So, you went back to the band?”

“I had no choice, it was everything to us, and the best shot we had at getting away from being broke all the time. But I knew I was going to lose you if I didn’t get to you first. I picked up my phone a thousand times, but you deserved better than a phone call. And I couldn’t think of anything to say that wasn’t going to end up with you walking away from me. I had no idea she was going to go to the press to make a few bucks once she found out who I was. Look. If I could take it all back, Jenny, if I could have stayed with you that day instead of getting on the damn tour bus, I would do it in a heartbeat. I believe it with everything that I am when I say I’m certain we would’ve been happier, that I would’ve been happier. The idea of walking home from a construction job that left me fulfilled, picking a bunch of wildflowers just so I could see the smile on your face when I walked through the door, and falling asleep with you every night . . . well, it haunts me during the day and keeps me awake at night.”

Silently, she reached for her purse and pulled out two tissues. One for her and one for him. “If I’d known what was going to happen, I wouldn’t have let you go. I wish you’d felt as though you could have shared the pressure you were under with me.”

Nik wiped his eyes, and then took her tissue to wipe her face. He held her chin with such gentleness, his red-rimmed dark eyes fixed on her. “I’m sorry, Jenny. Truly, from the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to worry you. You’d already been through so much.”

“So where do we go from here?” she asked quietly, scared of the answer.

“That’s up to you, sweetheart. I’m yours, Jenny, I always have been. The question is, are you still mine?”