“No. He’s interesting. And kind. Surprisingly funny when he lets himself be—”
I stop, catching sight of Ellenor’s smug grin. “Yeah, I can see how professional it is.”
“Oh, shut up.” I swat her arm.
She sobers a little, watching me. “So why pull back?”
I swallow. “I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship right now. Not with anyone.”
“Lil—”
“And don’t try to talk me into one,” I plead. “Tonight made me realise I’m still messed up after Toby.”
She’s quiet for a beat, then says gently, “Just because Toby and Jack were assholes doesn’t mean every guy is. You can trust Brandon. He’s not like that.”
“I know,” I whisper. “Idotrust him. But I don’t want him stepping into a relationship only to end up having to look after me, like I might fall apart if he doesn’t hold me together.”
“That’s not how it would be.”
“Isn’t it? It’s literally why I came to England.”
“There are worse reasons to come to England.”
I let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “I told myself he’d be able to fix me. Like some kind of dog whisperer for music.”
“Yeah, but…you’re not a dog.”
I round on her. “That’swhat you got out of that?”
“Alright, alright.” She lifts her hands in surrender. “I’m just saying, you’re making thiswaymore complicated than it has to be.”
I clamp my jaw shut, swallowing the retort that tries to launch itself out of me.
A thick silence settles over the car, the engine ticking as it cools. We bothstare straight ahead, not knowing what to say.
Ellenor eventually sighs. “You’ve turned this into the emotional equivalent of the Yule Ball. Everyone’s dancing with the wrong person, and no one’s having any fun.”
Something in me snaps.
“Oh myfuckingGod, Elle—why does every single thing have to link back toHarry Potter?”
“Because—”
“Why can’t we haveoneproper conversation without you quoting some fictional witch or wizard? You never used to be this bloody obsessed!”
She pales. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it? You’ve got the emotional capacity of a turnip lately!”
I’m spiralling, just like she worried I would, the words tumbling uncontrollably.
“I came here because I lost my music. Youknowthat. And yet you rocked up out of nowhere, taking over the cottage and planning this whole road trip—which is fine, I love you, and I love the references—but no one can saytwo wordsto you without getting a bloody Hogwarts monologue. It’s ridiculous!”
“But…you love my monologues,” she tries to joke, but her armour is cracking.
And I strike.
“You’re my older sister. If you’re going to be here, I need you to grow up and actuallybehere, not hide behind jokes every time life gets hard. Do you even care what I’m going through?”
