Chapter 31

It takes us a while to get off the stage and back to the dressing room with all the people who want to wish us well.

Once inside, it's busy with others who are also getting changed. Darcy sinks down onto a bench and sighs. He gives me a small smile and then rests his head against the wall, closing his eyes. I resist the temptation to try to find out what happened, but he'll tell me when he's ready. It's still busy, so I guess he's waiting until we're alone. So instead, I concentrate on getting changed back into my jeans and hoodie. When I'm done, Darcy hasn't moved, so I sit down next to him and take hold of his hand. He turns his head towards me and opens his eyes.

I'm not going to ask if he's alright as I can already see the answer to that question. Instead, I say, "Tell me what I can do."

"Can I stay with you, please?" His question surprises me, as it's the last thing I expect, and it increases my curiosity and concern.

"Yes, of course you can." There is no other answer if that's what he needs. I just need to talk to my parents, as there isn't room for us all in the van.

I leave him to get changed, promising I'll only be a few minutes. It takes me a bit longer to find my parents and tell them what I know so far. My mum arranges a lift home with Alan and Brenda, and my dad goes to bring the van to the stage-door entrance.

Next, I find Claire, and tell her that Darcy is coming home with me. She looks relieved and thanks me, even though she still doesn't enlighten me with any more details. But she promises to call him later.

When I return to the dressing room, Darcy has changed and is just zipping up the bag. I grab it and check he's okay to grab the garment hanger, then he follows me out to the van.

"Do you need to go home at all? Get some things?" I ask as we settle into the van.

He looks bone weary and shakes his head slightly. "I can't do that today." His voice cracks and I pull his hand into mine, rubbing my fingers over the back of his hand.

When we get home, my mum is there and already has a pot of tea brewing—the national drink of healing, recovery, and condolence. Darcy accepts a cup, and she gives him her best soothing smile. It's a magical smile that I know well, and I see Darcy manage a little one back before I herd him upstairs to my room.

Once he's drunk his tea, because that's important, he sighs and presses his fingers to his eyes.

Usually when we talk, we sit cross-legged, facing each other, but I want to hold him, and I think it might be easier if he doesn't have to look at me. So I shift backwards until I'm leaning against the wall, and invite him to sit between my legs, his back resting against my chest. I rest my hands on his thighs, waiting for him to take whatever time he needs.

When he tells me how he feels like his life has been ripped out from under him, I can't help but move my hands until they're wrapped around him. He's always brought out some sort of protective instinct in me and I can't help it. It goes way back, years, to when we first met. It's probably why we became best friends—my need to look out for the dark-haired boy with the shining green eyes.

As he recounts what he found out, I'm glad he waited to tell me. If I'd known this and his parents were around, his mum especially, I might not have been able to hold back. I'm so angry with what they've done.

"Nick." It isn't a question, it's a statement.

"Hmmm." My mind is still whirring with what I'd like to say to them.

"Can you let go of me?" I've balled my hands into fists, clutching his T-shirt.

"I'm sorry." I unclench my hands and smooth down his T-shirt.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," he says. I can hear the desolation in his voice and it shatters me.

He turns sideways in my lap and puts his arms around me. I wrap my arms round him and hold him while he breaks.

I have no answers for him but to let him sob it out, and even when he stops, I keep him enclosed in my embrace. Eventually, he falls asleep and still I can't let him go.