And Lina wouldn’t stop crying. I held her hand and told her it would be okay. I promised her that I would make it okay.

I stumbled down the stairs, feeling my eyes get hot.

Ever since then, I’d been so careful. I’d been careful for years, about everything, everyone.

And then I’d been careless. Once. Just once. I’d booked that ticket. February fifteenth. And then—

I was trying so hard to be careful again. That was why I had come here, when all I wanted to do was be careless and stay home with Tom and let myself go, over and over; fall, harder and harder.

I needed it to work. To keep me safe.

At the bottom of the stairs I pushed the door open and stepped onto the street, the cold slapping me in the face, catching the tears on my cheeks and turning them to ice. I stopped, reaching into my bag for my tobacco. My phone was flashing but I ignored it, desperate for nicotine, for something, anything.

The cigarette I rolled was crooked, fat in the middle and the filter dangled out the end, but it was something, and I tapped the end with my index finger and put it between my lips, searching my bag for a lighter, finding cold plastic with my fingertips.

‘Cait.’

I jumped, the lighter slipping away. ‘Shit,’ I said, fumbling for it again, taking a second to understand what I’d heard.

‘Hey.’

I looked up, still not knowing, not right away.

Tom was standing in front of me, hands in his pockets, frowning. And everything stopped.

I tried to take a breath but it caught.

‘Hi,’ I said, my voice shaking. I took the cigarette out of my mouth and watched it wobble between my fingers, wiped my cheeks, tried to wipe it all away. Frannie. Jenny. I felt a flicker of confusion. His face was so strange. Hard. ‘What—’

This wasn’t right. None of it was.

My mum’s sick.

I felt my face rumple, a sob, forced it back.

‘Hey.’ His voice softened, tugged at me, frown disappearing. ‘What’s wrong?’

Something broke, somewhere just below the surface. I wanted to cry. I wanted to fall into him and have him hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay.

But it wasn’t. It hasn’t been for a long time. Days. Months. Years.

You’re too much.

I managed to shake my head. ‘I’m fine,’ I lied, begging him to believe me even as I knew he wouldn’t.

‘Cait.’ His hands came up to my shoulders, my cheeks. Warm. Terrifying. ‘What’s happened?’

I pulled back, stepped away. ‘Nothing.’ I put the cigarette back between my lips and found my lighter, but my hands were trembling too much to get it to work.

‘Here,’ Tom said, taking it from me and sparking it, one hand up to shield the flame. It caught.