Rhys goes off to university, while Galen remains home, deciding to use his year off not to pursue the band but to spend time with his Dad. This means while Max recovers, Mum can return to work full-time.

Weeks fly by as I begin my first year of A-levels, and I quickly settle into the routine that school brings. Although my days are busy, my nights are not. They allow me too much time in my own head to think about all the changes in my life.

The men in my life seem to be forging their way ahead, embracing the future with open arms. Max is getting better, and Rhys seems to be embracing university life. Every time we talk on the phone, he seems… older somehow, more mature. It’s as though in only a few weeks away from home, he’s shed the immature skin of boyhood, and turned into a man.

And then there’s Galen—he’s happier. Almost back to the boy I first met.

He’s never brought up that night at the brook, but he hasn’t changed how is with me either. We still go for drives in his car, we still climb the mountains looking for late blooms, and he still leaves random flowers outside my bedroom door like he did when we were younger.

A handful of times, he’s even crept into my bed when he’s had trouble sleeping, and I’ve let him. I’ve let him take comfort in our friendship.

Because that’s all it is and can ever be. Despite the gnawing ache in my heart.

Rhys has come home for Mum’s birthday. There’s no big party this year, just us gathering together to celebrate at home as a family.

While Mum unpacks the huge variety of take-out boxes and Max pours wine for all of us, Galen strums quietly on his guitar at Mum’s request.

“Play my favourite,” she begs, and all thoughts of eating are gone as we each get sucked into Galen’s performance.

His head lifts almost shyly before he smiles at her with that heart-breaking, audience captivating, grin of his, and the first notes of The Pretenders, I’ll Stand By You drift across the room. Then, he sings, and everything fades away.

His tone is low, rich, and burrows into my belly, thrumming through my blood, and skittering across my senses.

Galen, like all the great musicians before him, doesn’t just sing a song, he lives it. He pours every ounce of himself into the words, the melody and the emotions both evoke, and I’ve come to realise that music is to him what flowers are to me.

The song ends, the last note vibrating in the air keeping us all locked in the moment, only for it to be cut off by Max clearing his throat and saying, “We have some news.”

“Great news,” Mum adds, unable to contain her emotions any longer, her hand finding Max’s shoulder as he brings his up to lace his fingers through hers.

“My doctor said the treatment and the op did it. I’ve got the all clear. I’m cancer free.”

Galen all but throws his guitar and dives from his chair.

“You’re okay? Everything is okay?”

He charges at his father and tackle-hugs him so hard that it’s a miracle Max braces himself enough to remain seated.

Over his son’s shoulder, with his arms wrapped tightly around Galen, he says, “Everything is more than okay.”

We let the moment sink in, each of us erupting into broad smiles and relieved looks.

“Tell everyone your news, Gal,” Mum says, leaning down to kiss both of them on the side of their heads. “Let’s make this a birthday to remember.”

“What news?” I ask to his back, as he slowly removes himself from his father’s embrace and stands, unable to make eye contact with me.

“It’s nothing, really. Dad’s news is what we should focus on today.”

“It’s not nothing, Gal,” Max scolds lightly. “It’s equally as important. This could be a once in a lifetime opportunity for you.”

Galen’s eyes finally flick to mine, and I see everything he’s trying to hide.

He’s leaving.

“I—” he breaks eye contact with me and looks at the grinning face of my mother instead. “I’ve been offered a place on a U.K. tour for an up and coming band that’s getting a lot of buzz. Just an early support slot, nothing major.”

“Nothing major,” Rhys butts in with a snort. “Gal, man, that’s bloody huge.”

Galen shrugs, still looking at everyone else but me.

I know my voice is flat when I ask, “When do you leave?” But I don’t have my emotions under control enough to inject any fake cheer.

This time he looks at me, really looks at me and replies, “A couple of weeks.”

“How long have you known?”

“A couple of weeks. And I haven’t accepted yet. I was waiting for Dad to get his results, but seeing as…” His voice trails off.

Seeing as Max is healthy, there’s nothing left to keep him here.

“I’ll be back at Christmas for a few days,” he offers in a weak consolation.

I blink and force myself to breathe. It wouldn’t do anyone any good for me to lose it right here and now. My stomach twists with the force I use to control my emotions, and I have the feeling I’m seconds away from throwing up.

“I’m happy for you,” I offer quietly, my lips refusing to curve into any semblance of a smile despite my attempts. “I think I need to use the toilet before we eat.”

Then I’m gone, rushing from the room, bypassing the toilet and flinging the door open wide to run outside.

I need air. I need to be able to breathe.

Galen is seconds behind me, calling my name, asking me to wait. When he finally catches up, I’m leaning against the cold brick wall around the corner of the garden, tucked away from prying eyes. I can’t bear to face him.

“I’m sorry, Fflur. I wanted to tell you. I wasn’t expecting Mum to blurt it out like that.”

“I know.” I’m referring to him not expecting it, and not whether he was ever going to tell me.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” he asks quietly. “I know it’s cold but—”

“Yeah, actually I do.” I twist my head to finally look at him, and the hurt on his face likely mirrors mine. The difference is, I didn’t cause his pain. “Just not with you.”

When I return a while later, I find food left warming for me in the oven and a note from Mum to say her and Max were shattered and having an early night.

The living room and kitchen are empty, and despite the house rules of no food in our bedrooms, I take the plate filled with takeout, grab a drink from the fridge, and wearily make my way up to my room.

It’s not until I’ve set my plate and drink on my desk, and turned to close my door that I see it.

A note, folded in half and left under my door. With my hands full, I must have stepped right over it.

I’m so sorry, Fflur.

I should’ve been stronger and told you sooner, but there was never a right time.

I’ll miss you.

I’ll call all the time.

G.

Food forgotten, I clutch the torn notepad paper in my hands and crawl into bed.

I’m such a bad friend. I should be happy for him.

I drift into a restless sleep with promises to be better swirling in my brain.

No more selfish Fflur.

Life is better for everyone this way.

Today was a good day.

Today was a good day.

Today was the day everything ended, and something else began.