‘Yeah. I mean, only if you want to tell me.’ Connor ran his index finger lightly over Hailey’s wrist, feeling the pulse of her heart. Her bones. She thought she was fat but sometimes to Connor she felt so delicate he was scared she would break. That’s what it felt like to really care about someone, he supposed. As well as the good – the skip of a heart when they entered a room, the shiver of expectation when they sent you a message – there was the worry. The wanting them to be okay. To never suffer. But here was Hailey telling him she had felt pain.

She had felt loss.

Hailey shifted her position until she was leaning back against his chest, his legs either side of hers. Connor lowered his head and kissed her neck.

Neither of them spoke. Connor wondered whether he should fill the silence. Whether Hailey wasn’t yet ready to open up to him, however close he thought they were. But how close could they be if he hadn’t even known that her mum didn’t live with her? In the whirlwind three weeks they’d been together there had been much kissing. Much talk about music and movies. Nothing deep yet. Still, Connor should have picked up on the fact Hailey never mentioned her. No ‘Better get home before Mum freaks,’ or ‘Mum wants me home by eleven.’

‘She… she died.’ Hailey had said eventually. Connor wrapped his arms around her chest and pulled her further back into his chest. He wondered when she died. How she died. He should have been better prepared for this conversation, with tissues at the ready and the right words to take away her pain.

‘It was…’ Hailey began. ‘When I was really young. It’s not like I properly remember her.’

‘Hailey…’ Whatever Connor had been expecting, it wasn’t this. He didn’t know what to say.

Connor shuffled around until he was kneeling in front of her. He took both of her hands in his. Her head hung low. She couldn’t meet his eye and at first Connor thought that she was crying. Gently placing two fingers under her chin, he tilted her face up towards his. ‘I am so, so sorry,’ he said.

She shrugged. ‘It was a long time ago,’ but the crack in her voice told him it was still raw. Painful. ‘A heart attack. She was young but it was something to do with her blood pressure. Do you want to see a photo of her?’ she asked, already pulling an old Polaroid from her bag. A woman sat on the sofa, a baby in her arms. ‘It’s the only picture I have.’

‘She looks a little like you. You must miss her?’