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Joan searched for any clue that he was something other than he seemed, but his expression was guileless. This wasn’t him, Joan thought with a hollow ache of grief. If he were here with her, she’d know. She’d surely feel it. Right now, all she felt was his absence. He was nowhere in the world. He was just gone.

‘I should check my messages,’ she whispered back. Maybe Gran had left one that she’d missed. She unlocked her phone. There was only the one voice mail, but there were unread text messages.

Joan thumbed open the app automatically and realised it was the group exchange.

Margie: Stop everything nick ward just walked in

Chris: in where?? In the bakery???

Margie: he looks SO good

Chris: NO IM SO JEALOUS

Chris: someone take a sneaky pic

Chris: selfie with the pecs

Chris: WHATS GOING ON IS HOT NICK STILL THERE

Chris: TELL ME TELL ME

Chris: SOMEONE REPLY!!!!

Joan stared at Margie’s last message.

‘Margie was your friend from the bakery?’ Nick said softly.

Mortification merged with grief. Nick had been the subject of those messages—Joan hadn’t been thinking when she’d opened the app. She’d forgotten that they’d all been talking about him. ‘I—I’m sorry,’ she said roughly. ‘Those messages were just—’

‘I’m sorry,’ Nick said, low. His dark eyes were grave. ‘I’m so sorry about what happened to her.’

Joan clenched her teeth. It wasn’t safe to feel these feelings yet. But she couldn’t stop the hitch of her breath.

‘You don’t have to …’ There was a small crease between Nick’s eyes. ‘Hey.’ He shifted. ‘Can I?’ he said.

Don’t, she told herself. But she found herself nodding. He put a warm hand on her back. It was heavy and almost unbearably comforting. She turned toward him. And then, to her agony and desperate solace, he pulled her to his chest and tucked her close.

This wasn’t him, she told herself. He wasn’t here with her. He felt like him, though—his hard chest against her cheek. And he smelled so good. Joan took a deep breath as if she could fill herself with him.

‘I’m so sorry you lost your friend,’ Nick whispered. ‘I’m so sorry she died.’

‘I can’t believe—’ Her voice failed, and she squeezed her hands into fists. She tried again. ‘I can’t believe she’s dead.’ Margie had died because those people had been after Joan, and Nick had been dragged into this too.

Nick’s arm tightened, and it felt like everything Joan had needed forever and shouldn’t need. She missed his other self so much. It was messed up how much she missed him.

‘Why don’t you sleep for a little while?’ Nick said, his voice rumbling against Joan’s cheek.

Joan shook her head. They needed to be alert. They weren’t safe here. He might be dangerous. What if she dropped her guard and he remembered who he was?

‘I’ll keep watch,’ Nick said. ‘I’ll wake you up if they come back.’

She shouldn’t give in to how safe she felt with him holding her like this. She shouldn’t feel anything for him at all. ‘I’m tired,’ Joan admitted hoarsely. I’m so sorry you lost your friend. She was so tired of losing people. Gran. Bertie. Uncle Gus. Aunt Ada. Margie. Nick. Aaron. Dad. Mum, so long ago. She was so tired of fighting how it felt.

‘You can sleep,’ Nick said. ‘I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.’

Joan’s breath hitched. She tried to slow her breathing, to push it all down. It had been working since she’d come home after the summer, but this time a sob spasmed painfully from her chest, tearing from her. He wasn’t here. He wasn’t anywhere, and he’d never be anywhere again. Distantly, she heard Nick murmuring. And then she was crying against his chest.

He put his other arm around her, and Joan knew she shouldn’t be touching him like this. It was wrong. This wasn’t him.