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Evie rubbed his arm. “Have they said something?”
“We don’t talk about it.” He sniffed. “But sometimes they leave me out of things or tease me incessantly. I guess it’s their way of getting their own back.”
“Nick, they should be angry with your mum, not you.”
“I know, but I can’t blame them. I’ve told Mum to treat us the same, but there’s no telling her. Kiki does what Kiki wants.”
“Is your dad any better?”
“He’s just as bad, maybe worse,” said Nick. “Not about playing favorites ’cause I am not his favorite. Actually, to be fair, I don’t reckon he has one. He resents us equally. But where cheating is concerned, he’s voracious. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve gone downstairs for waffles and met some woman wearing little more than a horrified grin.”
“Shiit.”
“Yeah. Gran says my parents have affairs like other people have hot dinners.”
“Your gran knows?”
Nick nodded. “So, yeah—we might have landmarks named after us here, but the current Balfours are dysfunctional as fuck.”
“God, I can’t even imagine what I’d do if…”
“Your parents don’t fight?” asked Nick.
“They disagree sometimes, argue, but it never escalates.”
“You’re lucky.” Nick frowned. “It grinds away at you.”
Sitting up, Evie clutched his hand. “C’mon.”
“Where?”
“I hate seeing you sad.” She eased up onto her feet, her fingers still clasped around Nick’s. “Bouncing always cheers me up.”
“Bouncing?”
“Don’t knock it till you try it, Balfour.” Evie tugged his hand.
My brain is SO fuzzy. His eyes swept the army of snack packages. “What about the biscuits?”
“Excuses! Don’t worry about ’em.” She banished the rolling bottles of cola from the trampoline with a flick of her bare foot. “Hey, did you notice? The beer stain’s gone.”
Nick looked down at his shirt, dry and blotch-free. “So it is! You’re a savior, Evie.” He kneeled and awkwardly rose to his feet. “Although, this…this might kill me.”
“You’ll be fine. Just think, you can add trampolining skills to your acting CV.” She held his hand tight. “On three, okay?” she instructed. “One. Two. Three!”
They both leapt into the air then met the taut surface again, their first bounce leading to countless more. Jumping and rebounding, their irregular rhythm shimmied the packages of biscuits across the trampoline.
“Let’s go higher!” Evie begged as Nick slowed down.
“I might have to let go of your hand. Our height difference is fucking us up.”
She laughed and released her grip. “You have become freakishly tall!”
Nudging the biscuits out of danger, Nick couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on a trampoline, but like Evie had promised, each leap loosened the familial anguish knotted around his heart. “You were right. Can’t be sad doing this.”
Evie contorted her shoulders, pulling her cardigan down her arms as she jumped. “I love bouncing. It’s my happy place.” Arms free, she flung her sweater onto an obliging lawn chair.
“Well, in that case, you’ll hereby be known as Tigger,” said Nick with a flex of his dimples.
