Page 97 of Little Miss Fortune

I’ve ignored the slips of darkness in him before, but now, ignoring Sophie’s advice to let go, I press on. ‘What do you mean by a way out?’

The question surprises him. It’s too direct. I’ve let these comments slide for too long. He changes his weight off his knee, as if there was a sudden shock that shot through it. Through his bad knee. From the skiing accident.

‘Toby,’ I say, unsure whether I’m correct, ‘how did the skiing accident happen?’

He is silent. I see his face trying to form a charming smile to match his witty response that he is preparing. But his eyes glaze over, betraying his true feelings.

I don’t let him say anything, placing his glasses on top of all of his NHS letters, forcing him into a tight hug. He lets out a sob, his hands dig into my back, head dropping onto my shoulder.

‘I’m sorry,’ he repeats again and again, shattering my heart into pieces.

My hand brushes over his hair, hoping to take away all the worries that might spin in his head. His body is pressed against mine, but he is miles away, maybe somewhere on that mountain, maybe still sitting at the dinner table. Or maybe he is still in his family home, feeling smaller and smaller every day. Those moments when darkness cover the light behind his eyes, that’s what it was—him wanting a way out.

I let him stand and cry for as long as he needs. He tries to apologise again but I shush him.

Toby sits down on the bed, arms locked around my waist, head pressing into my stomach to hide his sobbing face from me. I don’t know what to say or how to help. All I want is for his pain to be gone, to go back five minutes to before I accused him of not being kind, because in truth, he is one of the kindest people I know. My own anger about Sophie let me miss that his parents might seem nicer to him because they weren’t berating him in front of me, but that they actually raised him with the same level of cruelty.

‘I am so sorry.’ I hold him closer, feeling like I could never let him go.

His sniffles calm down, the stain on my top from his tears stops growing.

‘Sophie said that you’re a good brother. It’s your parents that are asshats.’

‘She said that?’

‘Well, no, I was the one who called them that.’

He strains out a laugh, slightly annoyed. ‘I meant the brother bit.’

I hug his head. ‘She did. She said that today was just a bad example and that you are great.’

A small final sniffle. ‘I feel like shit.’

‘I know. That salad did something funny to my stomach too.’

A big, full-bellied laugh erupts out of him. It is gentle and uncertain at first, getting bigger and bigger when I join in. He peels away from me and pulls me in for a kiss. His face is wet but is now brighter. ‘Such a stupid thing to say.’

I send a quick text to Dad, saying I’m going to stay at Leon’s to cheer him up after a bad date. He sends me the thumbs-up emoji.

Toby and I lie on the bed facing each other. His breathing has returned to normal, eyes still red and irritated. His fingers are stroking my cheeks.

‘Do you want to talk about today?’ I ask.

‘Did anyone ever tell you that you’re the prettiest girl alive?’

That’s a no, then.

‘Stop it.’ I shake my head.

‘I mean it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as beautiful as you.’

I bite my lip, realising I might ruin the mood. ‘Do you want the truthful answer or the one that will earn me some points?’

‘Truth?’ he asks wearily.

‘Someone did say that to me before.’ It comes out, and I immediately regret it.

‘Ugh, it was John, wasn’t it?’ Toby spits his name out as if it’s a venereal disease. ‘I will never understand why you were ever with him.’