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He didn’t say much. A serious “Yeah” and an “Okay” or two, then finally an all-business “Will do. Cheers.”

Banishing the offending fruit into a pile, Evie swiveled to face him, but Nick was staring out the window. “All good?” she asked, setting down the fork.

“No, not really…Plunder the Crown,” he murmured into a flurry of blinks. “Went to someone else.” Dropping the phone on the bed, he let out a long exhale then shielded his mouth with his hand.

Someone who?! An ache panged in Evie’s chest. How? Why? None of this made sense. She’d seen Nick’s audition monologues. He’d slayed every line, every emotion, his borrowed Yorkshire accent was bang on—he would’ve been perfect. Evie rose from the chair, fury and sorrow tangling her tongue. “B-but this is bullshit! They brought you in five times!”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Nick closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “I-I thought I’d fucking nailed it. This was gonna be my comeback.”

A “comeback” at the tender age of twenty? The notion made Evie crumble inside.

“I can’t be a has-been.” He sniffed, his tearful eyes looking imploringly into Evie’s.

How awful to be so young and feel like your career is over. Her chin began to quiver. No doubt, his mother will blame him, too.

Evie gathered Nick in her arms, hugging him close. “I’m so sorry…” She could feel his heart thrashing through his t-shirt. “I know how much you wanted this.”

Closing his eyes again, Nick buried his face in her neck. His jagged breaths puffed against her skin in short, quick bursts. “I can’t catch a break. I-I don’t know what to do—” A strangled sob broke through his lips.

His declaration wasn’t a question, but there was only one answer.

“Breathe.” Evie stroked the back of his head. “One breath, then another and another.” She inhaled through her nose to the count of four, then let the exhale escape slowly as she counted to six in her head. “Like this. We’ll do it together, okay?”

Nick lifted his head, tears spilling through his lashes. Evie had seen him cry twice before on Dalston Grove, when his TV baby was born and when Amanda died, but this pain wasn’t for the cameras or ratings or lovestruck fangirls. It was authentic and deep. Vulnerable. The real Nick.

And like the afternoon behind Marwick’s, Evie fell for him a little further.

“Okay.” Nick took in a staggered breath then released it with a shudder. “I’m sorry I’m such…a loser.” His bloodshot eyes skirted her gaze.

A sharp tickle throbbed in Evie’s nose. She cupped his face in her hands, his tears dampening her fingers. “You’re many things, Nick Balfour, but you’re not a loser. Not even close.”

“Yeah, but me crying is so—”

“Beautiful,” Evie interjected as her eyes began to sting. “It’s good to cry. It shows you care, shows things matter, feelings matter. Never be ashamed about that.”

Nick’s lips tweaked at the corners as he inhaled…and then slowly exhaled…

“There’s nothing weak about you, Nick. No matter what stupid shit your dad says, okay?” She swallowed hard. “The way you feel so deeply is one of the reasons why I like you so much.”

Like.

As soon as that four-letter L-word slipped from her tongue, Evie knew it was a major copout. She liked French toast, daisies, and The X Factor, not Nick! Looking into his eyes, Evie’s unspoken truth, warm and sweet like the first bloom of spring’s snowdrops after a harsh winter, filled her chest. I LOVE YOU. So much. Always have, always will.

Saying it aloud, however, would have to wait. It was one gamble too many, and Evie wasn’t ready to roll those dice. Not yet.

“You’re too good for me, you know that?” He smiled through his tears.

She pressed the pad of her finger against his cheek and rescued a lost eyelash. “Hey, look. Make a wish?”

“Yeah. Go on, then.” He sniffed then blew the lash free from her finger.

Evie was dying to know what Nick had hoped for—fewer panic attacks, another TV series, an easy year at university—but didn’t ask. She leaned in and caressed his wet cheek. “It’ll be okay. You’re stronger than you know…”

“Because you’re with me.” Nick kissed her forehead, and Evie squeezed her eyes tight, wishing university and jobs and distance weren’t conspiring to keep them apart. The next day, Nick would fly south to Manchester, and an agonizing countdown would commence. Christmas break felt like years away.

“I hate leaving you.” He sniffed again. “Emails and calls aren’t the same. I’m gonna miss you, Tigs.”

A sob lodged in her throat as her tears escaped. “Me too. So much.”