I panicked and ran to the building before I could completely digest what just happened. The staff medics were already there, tending to both Callum and Trev. Leanne stood with her hands over her mouth, while Paul and James wore similar expressions of worry and concern.

Blood rushed through my veins, my heart pounding as I hurried to Leanne. “What happened? Are they okay?” I asked shakily.

Her breath came out all at once, her eyes watery with fear. “Cal slipped. I don’t . . . I can’t . . .”

I pulled her into my arms, because she was just as distraught as I was. I couldn’t see what was going on; there were too many people surrounding Callum and Trev. When I heard an ambulance siren approach, I worried the worst had happened. But then I saw both Callum and Trev being helped down, and neither of them appeared hurt, at least not as far as I could tell.

I let go of Leanne and rushed to Trev’s side. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“It’s just a sprained wrist and maybe something torn in his shin,” one of the medics explained. “We’re taking him to the hospital just to be certain.”

“I’m okay, Reya,” said Trev, but his voice was clipped. I could tell he was in pain. “Told you I was made of sterner stuff.”

“What about Cal?” Leanne asked.

“He’s okay. There’s some ankle strain, but that’s all,” said the medic. “Again, we’re bringing him to the hospital as well to be checked out.”

A second later Barry stormed onto the scene, his face a mix of anger and concern. “Christ, Cal, what happened back there?”

“He slipped,” Trev answered, like he was defending him. “Happens to the best of us.”

“The fuck it does,” Barry fumed, his angry gaze cutting to Callum. “Have you any idea how lucky you are, you little shit? Trevor could’ve been paralysed. So could you, for that matter.”

“Hey, talk like that isn’t going to help anyone,” James cut in, the voice of reason.

Barry held out a hand. “Don’t try using that calm-voice shit with me, James. It won’t work. I’m allowed to be pissed off.”

The sirens grew louder and I turned to see an ambulance was on the scene. Its arrival cut short whatever argument was about to break out between Barry and the group. I tried staying with Trev but was quickly pushed out of the way in their hurry to transport him to the ambulance.

Neil, Paul, James and I took a cab to follow them, while Leanne was permitted inside the ambulance. We spent the next few hours at the hospital. There was a bit of a language barrier at first, but we eventually found a nurse who spoke fluent English and could translate.

It turned out Trev did have a sprained wrist. It had swelled significantly and I couldn’t get rid of the pang of anguish I felt at seeing him hurt. His wrist was put in a cast to keep it immobile and he was prescribed painkillers. The doctor also instructed him to rest for at least forty-eight hours. Luckily his leg was fine, just a little bit bruised.

Callum had ankle strain and some bruising, too, but nothing serious. I heard through Neil that Barry was fuming because now they had to delay the filming schedule for at least two days. Also, Trev wasn’t going to be able to take part in many stunts for the remainder of the series. His wrist could take weeks to heal properly. He could probably do some jumps so long as he didn’t need to use both hands, but he wouldn’t be able to climb. I personally thought it’d be fine if they just filmed with the other four stars, but what did I know?

“So, you excited to play nurse?” Trev grinned as I helped him to his bedroom when we arrived back at the apartment. I thought he might be feeling a little loose from the painkillers.

“Oh yeah, my life’s dream is finally coming to fruition,” I deadpanned.

He had a slight limp as he made his way to the bed and sat down. I stood in the doorway, eyeing him as I worried my lip.

“Something wrong?” Trev asked, brows arched.

“I’m just wondering when the time will come that you realise you aren’t invincible.”

He gave a soft chuckle then winced. “Believe me, that realisation came the first time I fractured a bone. Hurt like a motherfucker.”

I came and sat down next to him on the bed. “Hmm, I’m still not so sure. Don’t you ever get scared?”

Trev nudged me with his shoulder. “Can you keep a secret?”

I glanced him and smiled. “Always.”

He bent close to whisper, “Sometimes.”

His breath hit my skin and a shiver ran through me. When I met his eyes, there was an emotion in their depths. One that spoke of want and need and fierce desire.

“No me mires así,” I murmured quietly. Don’t look at me like that.

“Why not?” he asked, his voice a whisper.

I gasped. “How did you—”

He scratched his jaw, sheepish. “I’ve actually picked up some Spanish here and there over the years. Being around you all the time helped.”

I stiffened, my mind wandering back to our night at the Eiffel Tower.

Creo que nunca tuve otra opción más que amarte.

Had he understood what I said back then, too? Self-consciousness flooded my insides. It had always been the one thing I never gave to him, the one thing I managed to keep to myself. When we were together, Trev told me he loved me, but I never told him I loved him back.

I loved him more than anything, but I’d simply been too terrified to voice it. What if I told him and we drifted apart again? What if I gave him my whole heart and he cast me aside just like my family did? On the one hand, it was an irrational fear and I knew it, because Trev was nothing like my family. But on the other, it was completely rational. He hadn’t rejected me, but he had walked away. He had his reasons, yes, but that didn’t change how much it hurt. This was my last vestige of power. If he did let me down again, then at least I’d know I never gave him those words. At least I could reduce a small proportion of the pain.

“Reya, are you okay?” Trev asked, his eyes narrowed in concern.

“Yes,” I breathed. “It’s just . . . it’s been a long day.”

He studied me for a moment, then said, “Yeah, it has. I’m sorry if I scared you back there. It can’t have been easy seeing me fall like that.”

It was terrifying.

And the fact that it was terrifying was also terrifying.

The idea of something bad happening to Trev scared me more than anything, more than if it were happening to me. What if he’d died today and I never told him how I felt? My gut twisted with nausea just thinking about it. Maybe I needed to cast my fears aside, because they were more irrational than rational. And if we did somehow lose each other again, it would still hurt immensely. Lessening the pain wasn’t going to make that much of a difference.

I should tell him.

Tell him right now.

But the words caught in my throat as exhaustion pulled at my eyelids. It had been such a long and stressful day. I reached out to squeeze his good hand. “I’m going to lie down for a little bit. Neil’s ordering takeout for dinner, so let him know if there’s anything in particular you want. I’ll be in the next room if you need me.”

Without another word, I went to my own room. Leanne was there already. She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Usually, she’d be texting on her phone or checking her social media accounts, but today she just lay there. Seeing Cal fall must’ve been just as much of a shock to her as it was for me seeing Trev.

“Shit day, huh?” I said with a heavy exhale.

“Yeah.”

“How’s Callum?”

“He’s fine. Pissed at Barry for calling him a little shit, but otherwise he’ll live.”

I cast her a thoughtful glance. “When I saw you two earlier, he seemed upset.”

She stiffened and I saw a wall go up behind her eyes. “Yeah, that was nothing.”

Before I could say more I heard Trev call from somewhere outside our room. “Reya, can you come here a second?”

I got up and went to see what he wanted. “Where are you?”

“In the bathroom.”

Oh, great. I suspected what he needed but hoped I was wrong. Twisting the handle, I opened the door an inch, averting my eyes. “What’s up?”

“Can you, uh, come in here and shut the door?”

I took a deep breath and stepped inside, closing the door behind me. Trev stood by the toilet with his back to me. Clearly, he was either about to piss or had just finished pissing.

His shoulders slumped, like he was embarrassed. “I didn’t think this through.”

My cheeks reddened, because his pants were undone and just barely covered his backside. “W-what did you not think through?”

He sighed. “My right hand’s in the cast. I got my fly open easily enough but I can’t seem to button it back up.”

I stared at his back. He wouldn’t look at me and I tensed, feeling awkward. Then the humour of the situation hit me and a grin tugged at my lips. “You couldn’t ask one of the boys to help you?”

Now he turned to frown at me. “And let them hold it over me for the next two weeks? No, thanks.”

I bit my lip. “I’m not sure I won’t be holding it over you for the next two weeks.”

His mouth twitched as he narrowed his gaze. “Don’t be mean.”

“Come on, you have to admit this is funny.”

“Whatever. Just help me do up my fly, will you?”

I slowly approached him, my gaze flicking down in relief to see he’d at least tucked his business away. “Is your left hand so inept? I don’t get how you could open it but not close it.”

“These pants have those fussy metal slide things, see?”

He was right. They were unnecessarily complicated. I met his eyes, then lowered my gaze, reaching out to quickly clip the slides back in. He watched me intently, like I was a surgeon holding a knife over his opened torso. I huffed a laugh. “No need to look so concerned.”

“Reya, concern isn’t what I’m feeling right now,” he replied in a strained voice.

As soon as the words were out I saw his growing ‘personage’ and my hand shot up to cover my eyes. “Oh my God.”

Trev let out a beleaguered sigh. “Sorry.”

I took a deep breath. “No, it’s fine, it’s just . . . unexpected.”

He chuckled. “Not that unexpected. It’s kind of what happens when you come close.”

“Right, well, uh, I’ll just . . . get out of your way then,” I said, flustered as I hurried to the door.

“Reya.”

“What?” I asked, still not looking at him, though I could tell he was smiling.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

“It’s no problem.”

With that I dashed from the room like it was being filled with noxious gas and the timer was at 00:01. I decided to cancel the gig I had lined up for the night, too exhausted after being at the hospital for hours. I just wanted to shower, eat something, and go to sleep.

Trev didn’t come out of his room when the burgers arrived. I went and knocked on his door, peeking my head in to find him lying on the bed reading a book. Of course, he could only hold it up using his left hand.

He glanced up and I rubbed my hands on my thighs. “Hey. Food’s here.”

Trev let out a tired sigh. “Can you set some aside for me? I’m not up for being around everyone just yet.”

“I can bring it in to you?” I suggested, feeling bad for him. Both yesterday and today had obviously drained his energy reserves.

He sent me a thankful look. “You’re an angel.”

“Sweet talker. I’ll be right back.”

A couple of minutes later I returned with food for both of us. We sat on Trev’s bed cross-legged and spread it all out like a picnic, cheeseburgers, sweet potato fries and a selection of dips. I unwrapped the burger for Trev and handed it to him. He took it with his good hand. “Why do people insist on ruining burgers by putting tomatoes on them? It’s evil. They just make everything soggy.”

I’d forgotten about this little pet peeve of his. A smirk tugged at my lips. “Must be why they call them the devil’s apples.”

My comment took him off guard and he let out an amused chuckle. “The devil’s what?”

“Apples,” I replied, dipping a fry in some garlic sauce. “You’ve never heard the term?”

Trev’s smile grew. “Can’t say that I have.”

“Well,” I said, chewing. “Apparently, that’s what the Puritans used to call tomatoes in the Middle Ages, because they thought they corrupted people. After all, the Spanish and the Italians were wild for them, with their loose morals, so they must be bad.” I paused and waggled my brows. “All that tangy juiciness brings out our baser urges.”

“Is that why you Spaniards have such insatiable appetites?” Trev teased, his tone flirtatious.

“Ha! You’re the one with the appetite and we both know it. I can go months without sex and barely notice.”

Interest marked his features and I instantly regretted the comment.

“Oh yeah? How long’s it been?”

“I’ll only answer that question if you answer it first,” I threw back.

Trev’s eyes twinkled at the challenge. He took his time pulling the slice of tomato out of his burger, then said, “Almost seven months. I haven’t been with anyone since I broke up with Nicole.”

Well, that was interesting. “You ever hear from her?”

He shook his head. “No. And I won’t. She’s clever enough to know to stay away. She’ll never get anything else from me, monetary or otherwise.”

I swallowed down a bite, well believing it. Trev could come across like a fun-loving, amiable bloke, but I knew he had a darker side. He’d spent his formative years stealing cars for one of London’s most powerful crime lords, after all. I guess if he’d shown any of this side to Nicole after she pulled her fake sex tape stunt, she’d have run a mile and never looked back.

“Nice change of subject, by the way,” Trev commented.

I narrowed my gaze, a smile tugging at my lips. “Glad you’re impressed.”

He stared me down and I relented with a sigh. “Fine. I beat you anyway. I haven’t been with anyone in just under a year. Go me.”

Trev let out a low whistle. “A year? How do you manage it?”

I arched a wry brow. “How do you?”

He chuckled. “Touché.”

We ate in quiet for a few minutes. Trev had almost finished his burger when he eyed me curiously. “You remember that bloke you slept with? The one who looked like me?”

I shot a look at the ceiling. “Is this sex-life embarrassment day or something?”

“Yes, it’s now a national holiday,” said Trev, amused.

I scowled at him. “Funny. And yes, I remember him, why?”

“I did it, too.”

“You did what, too?”

“Slept with someone who looked like you.” He cleared his throat. “A few someones, actually.”

My heart pulsed. “When?”

“After we broke up. You kind of ruined me for everyone else. I’ve only been able to get it up for curvy girls with dark hair ever since,” he said, all matter of fact.

“You’re lying.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “Why do you always think I’m lying when I give you a compliment?”

“That’s not a compliment. It’s a creepy confession of sexual obsession.”

“I wouldn’t say creepy.”

“You slept with girls because they looked like me. If that’s not Grade-A creep behaviour then I don’t know what is.”

“Well, you did it, too. So we’re both creeps.”

I chuckled. “Wow. Congratulations to us.”

Trev’s expression warmed and I felt a blush suffuse my cheeks. The ridiculous thing was, I didn’t feel creeped out. I knew I should, but I didn’t. Maybe Trev was right when he said we were both as obsessed as each other. I distracted myself by clearing away the food packaging. Trev watched me, his features deep in thought.

“I do have a point though, about the compliments. You’ve always had self-esteem issues.”

“Show me someone who doesn’t.”

“I don’t. Go ahead, tell me I’m fantastic and I’ll agree with you one hundred per cent.”

“Yeah well, you’re your own special breed.”

“Of fantastic-ness, I know.”

“Fantastic-ness isn’t a word.”

“Everything is a word. You just have to make it up and give it meaning. Anyway, I think you have these issues with self-esteem because of your family.”

Oh great, here we went again. I sighed. “My family really seem to be a favourite topic of yours these days.”

“I can’t help it. I care about you. I want to see you find some peace about it all.”

“I’ve found as much peace as I’m going to find.”

“People who write songs like yours haven’t found peace, Reya.”

“Well, in that case, at least my art is flourishing. I’m gonna go take this rubbish out,” I said, gathering the crumpled papers and leftover food into a bag. Trev took it from me and set it aside.

“Later. We’re talking,” he insisted and pulled me back down to sit on the bed.

I huffed a long, unhappy sigh and eyed him grumpily. “Fine, talk.”

Trev considered me a moment, then said, “I think one of the reasons you rarely open your eyes when you sing is because of your family. I think they programmed you to feel ashamed.”

I arched a quizzical brow. “Of singing?”

“Yes. Didn’t they only ever let you play instrumental pieces? And if you sang, it was always hymns, right?”

I bit my lip, remembering how I used to wait until everyone was out of the house before I played my own songs, the ones I wrote in secret. Paula caught me once and I made her promise never to tell our parents. “Uh-huh.”

“So, when you finally broke out on your own, you could play all the music you’d been hiding for years. You could finally stick it to your parents by singing songs they’d never approve of, in bars and clubs they’d never be caught dead in.”

“Maybe,” I allowed.

“But,” Trev went on, putting extra emphasis on the word, “you still subconsciously feel like you’re doing something wrong. You don’t look at the audience, because it’s safer behind closed eyelids. Looking at people when you sing takes bravery, because you’re talking directly to them, you’re confronting them with all the truth inside your lyrics. If you keep your eyes closed, then you don’t have to confront them. You can still put out your truth, but you don’t have to see the effect it has on the people who are listening.”

Who is this deep-thinking man and what has he done with the carefree, risk-taking boy I loved?

I stared at him, my entire body tense as his reasoning fed my thoughts. He was right. Man, he was so right it was scary—scary because he saw me so much clearer than I even saw myself. I couldn’t tell if I adored him for how much thought he’d put in to figure out the why’s of my behaviour, or if I hated him for making me feel so exposed.

“Who died and made you Sigmund Freud?” I asked defensively, the joke falling flat.

Trev ran a hand through his hair, his expression tender with a hint of self-deprecation. “I have been spending a lot of time in therapy. Maybe all the psycho-babble is rubbing off on me.”

I exhaled heavily. “Nah, you’re right though. I do feel less exposed if I don’t open my eyes. And subconsciously, I probably also feel a level of shame for living a life my parents wouldn’t approve of. Like I told you before, even when I hate them I still love them.”

“I really think you need closure. You’ve never told them how their actions affected you, how it felt to be shut out from a life that was all you’d ever known, how you had to fend for yourself, take out loans to finish uni and put yourself in massive debt. I think they need to hear it, Reya, even if they won’t apologise or admit they were wrong, they can’t hide from the truth inside themselves.”

“Yes, they can. Because their truth is the opposite of mine, and there’s never going to be anything I can do to change that.”

Trev’s expression sobered. “You’re wrong.”

I let out a sad laugh. “I appreciate you trying to help, seriously, I do. But you’ve never met my parents.”

Indecipherable thoughts flickered behind his eyes. Once again, I had no idea what he was thinking when he finally murmured, “No, you’re right. I haven’t.”