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“No, ’cause I was torn up about what to do. I really wanted to write you back. I almost sent you a Facebook friend request, too.”
A grain of hope swelled in Nick’s chest. “What stopped you?”
“Me, being stupid.” She blinked, her face pained. “I don’t ignore people. I’m not a rude person—”
“I know you’re not—”
“That’s why I rang you.”
Adrenaline whooshed through him as he met her eyes. “You—when?”
“Three days later,” she said softly, discarding her juice on the counter. “But your number was out of service.”
Bugger. Nick frowned. “Some fans got hold of it. I had to get a new one.”
“Which I didn’t have…”
“But I texted it to Sam. I told him to let anyone—” Nick caught Evie’s subtle headshake. “He didn’t pass it on?”
“He’s swamped with vet school. We’re lucky if we hear from him once a week.”
Nick nodded. He hadn’t heard from Sam in months.
“I would’ve asked him for it, but”—Evie glanced downward and hooked her fingers into the hem of her top—“I was afraid.” Her gaze circled back, avoiding Nick.
“Of what?”
“Of finding out you didn’t give it to me on purpose.” Eyes glinting with tears, Evie’s stare fled to the floor. “Of finding out…you didn’t want to be friends anymore.”
Her pained honesty pierced Nick’s heart, sending regret swirling through his veins. “Evie, no,” he whispered, the desire to soothe her pain with a hug or a touch of his hand an unrelenting ache. “That’s not true at all. I missed you!”
“So why didn’t you ring me?” Her voice cracked.
There was that. Nick pawed the back of his neck and took a deep breath. The reasons behind his hesitance to reconnect were complicated. Like Evie, fear played a part, as did busyness—his first year of university with its essays, seminars, and hands-on productions was overwhelming. And then there was his mother Kiki. When Nick called home in May suggesting a quick weekend jaunt to Orkney, Kiki scolded him and Rupert for making friends with “that backward Kirkwall lot,” a disdainful phrase he’d never share with Evie. But meeting her perplexed gape, he knew he couldn’t dance around the truth any longer. Best to dive in, come what may.
“I should’ve, but I-I thought maybe…I…” So much for diving. His aimless ramble felt more like a painful belly flop.
Evie tilted her head. “I, what?”
“Maybe I was to blame. Maybe my presence at the bonfire had something to do with Stuart’s actions that night. Evie, I felt guilty about it. I still do.”
“About him dumping me?” Evie shook her head. “Nick, you shouldn’t. Our split had nothing to do with you.”
“But walking past me and Rupes, he shot me daggers.”
“That’s just his face,” explained Evie. “Fiona says he’s got angry eyes—you know, like the tattie in Toy Story?”
A ghost of a smile bent her lips, followed by an abrupt giggle, and twelve months of worry and regret lifted from Nick’s shoulders. Sharing a grin, he let out a laugh. “I am so relieved. God, what are we like?”
“Well, clearly we’re idiots.” Evie mock-frowned and scooped up a sprinkle-topped cupcake. “Peace offering? Never again, okay? We’ll never go another year without talking.”
“It’s a deal.” Nick gladly accepted Evie’s gift as a blonde girl charged into the kitchen, her palm glued to her mouth. Lunging between them, she retched into the dish-cluttered sink.
Evie gagged. “Oh god.” She grabbed her juice and slapped a hand over her nose.
Nick cringed. “Get out of here?”
Nodding, Evie led the way. “YES!”
