“It washyperglycaemia last time, mate. But thanks. You’re cute.”
“I try. Seriously, though, man. Are you worried Ollie ain’t gonna come back, cause I’m fairly sure there’s more chance of hell freezing over. I saw how he looked at you when you were sick. If he doesn’t love you, I’ll eat my shoes.”
“You’ll eat anything.”
“You wound me, Shay. Don’t be a dick. You know it’s true.”
Shay rolled onto his belly and pulled a pillow over his head. Itwastrue. He knew Ollie loved him, even though he’d never said it. But when hadJumbobecome the voice of all reason?
Jumbo grunted and wandered off. Shay listened to him amble down the aisle and exit the bus before he sat up and glanced around. He was alone, and his craving for an Ollie fix was at an all-time high. He picked up his phone. Put it down again. Then reached for his favourite notebook and began to write.
Hey,
So you’ll probably never read this, but I need to talk to you, and I don’t want to bother you while you’re doing… whatever you’re doing, so here we are.
I miss you.
I guess that was all I needed to say, but I need you to know it’s true. We never got round to saying some of the stuff that matters, and I know we will… when you’re ready. But I need you to know I miss you, and I love you. And none of this feels like home without you.
I am who I am, and who I was before I met you, but something shifted when you looked at me that first time. Even if you don’t come back, I know nothing will ever be the same. You are coming back, right? Fuck, ignore that. I know you are. And I didn’t mean to write a million words telling you all the shit I need.
I just… I want you to know that it’s okay. And it will always be okay. I know you’re messed-up, and I know you don’t want to be.
That’s enough, Ollie. It always was.
Shay xx
The word vomit was supposed to be therapeutic, but seeing it on the page felt hollow. Shay fumbled for his phone, snapped a picture of the notebook page, and sent it hurtling through WhatsApp before he could change his mind.
You fool. But it was too late. The image delivered to Ollie’s phone. Cringing, Shay buried his phone under his pillow. As though hiding it would somehow take everything back. As though he even wanted to take it back.
He didn’t. But he left the phone where it was all the same.
Rehearsal and soundcheck passed in a blur. London crowds were tough, and each gig so far had taken a few tracks to warm up. This show had to go off with a bang, and agonising over the set list kept Shay occupied until frustration boiled over and he tossed the seventh incarnation of it into the bin.
“Whoa, someone’s got the hump,” Jumbo teased.
No one else said a word, but irritation flooded Shay’s veins anyway. He grabbed the nearest instrument—his neglected flute—and left the room. After a moment, footsteps followed him, but he didn’t turn round until Mara caught his arm; she hadn’t been in the rehearsal room.
“Your phone,” she said. “It was ringing, so I brought it back from the bus.”
Shay snatched the phone from her, ignoring her knowing wink, and kept walking, not daring to examine the screen until he was alone in the dressing room.
Two missed calls greeted him. His heart sank. Neither was Ollie. One was clearly an arse-dial from Jumbo. Shay sighed and returned the other—his dad.
Frank answered with a grunt. “Thought you’d gone on stage without your good luck charm.”
“My good luck charm?”
“Me, of course, lad. You think I don’t know you call me every night out of superstition rather than a desperate need to know I’ve done the dogs and put the dinner on?”
“Git.”
“Aye. But it is what it is. You okay? Jumbo told me you had a wobbler a few days ago.”
A wobbler. Frank’s affectionate term for any blood-sugar glitch that fucked up Shay’s day never failed to make Shay smile. “I’m good. It was a hyper… I haven’t had one of those for ages.”
“Just as well. They knock you for six.” Following a pause came the clunk of the ancient cast-iron slow cooker that kept Frank in hot dinners. “Are you eating proper? Getting plenty of rest between gigs and whatnot?”
