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Oh no, what’s wrong with Doctor Dyl?

“Emily. About Lulu…” He stopped, as if struggling to find the words.

Where is he going with this?

“We’ve been going out for nearly a year, give or take, and she’s always played second fiddle to my career. And now you’re here, and you’re my priority.”

My eyebrows rose in surprise at this piece of information. He continued hastily, “And I think she realizes that, and finds it… difficult.”

Oh. This was an intimate insight I did not need.

Why is he telling me this?

“Look, what I’m trying to say, is I’d really appreciate it if you two could get along.”

Mortified, I stared down at my feet, unable to meet his gaze. Blood rushed to my face as I realized he was reprimanding me. He’d noticed my ambivalence toward Lulu, and he was disappointed in me.

It stung.

Hell!

“Of course,” I muttered, embarrassed to be called out on my behavior.

Reaching up, he tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear and patted it gently into place using his knuckles. It was a small, pacifying gesture, but it was almost my undoing. It had been a long time since anyone had touched me. Even Dylan.

The realization had me reeling.

This was the fallout of losing everyone l loved and who loved me. All the casual embraces and strokes and pats and incidental touching that I had taken for granted from my parents and from my sometimes-annoying little brother were no more.

And I missed it.

I stilled at Dylan’s contact. If he noticed, he didn’t say.

“Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate it.”

I flinched as he withdrew his hand.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Come eat.” He turned sharply and exited the room, leaving me shaken.

Chapter V Results

Supper was a subdued affair. I made a concerted effort to eat the poached salmon, broccoli, and new potatoes to please Dylan. Lulu was quieter, and I suspected he’d had words with her as well.

We’re both on the naughty step.

“Have you decided what subjects you’d like to study at school?” Dylan asked, trying to make conversation and dragging me out of my quiet, uncomfortable mental escape. “We should get your results tomorrow.”

Oh crap. Results!

My hollowed-out chest quivered with pain.

Results.

Another day that I was supposed to share with my parents.

Before… before the accident, we’d been anticipating my GCSE results with optimism. But results day was a moment to be shared with my parents, a moment of joy or despair, though I’d hoped for joy. I wanted my parents to be proud of me. We’d all struggled through the Covid pandemic. My schooling had been seriously interrupted, and my poor parents had had to teach their own classes and supervise me and look after Billy, who was a boisterous two-year-old during that weird time.

But we muddled through.