‘He was just nice, Leen.’ I could feel my eyes getting hot. ‘I felt like I could talk to him, you know? About anything.’ I shook my head. ‘I didn’t, but I could have. I wanted to.’

I looked up at the road. There was a ute in front of us driving slowly, like he was lost. It was almost comforting.

‘He listened to me. Properly. Like what I said mattered.’ It hurt to talk about him. Even with Georgia, I struggled. ‘I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. He just made me feel …’ Everything.

Still.

It had been ages, but when I thought about him it felt like yesterday. It stung.

‘On paper, he was like all those guys I used to date, you know? The ones you used to tease me about? But he wasn’t. He never tried to impress me or outsmart me or make me feel like I should admire him for being accidentally born into the right family or being a doctor or living in a fancy apartment.’ I paused. ‘I just liked him. A lot.’

I heard her make a sound, but when I looked over at her she was staring straight ahead, her expression unreadable.

I remembered something suddenly, something she’d said the last time we’d talked about Tom. Weeks ago.

‘Leen?’

‘Yeah?’

‘What don’t I know?’

She frowned, but her eyes didn’t move, burning into the ute in front of us, as though willing it to move.

‘You haven’t figured it out yet?’ she asked, eventually.

I blinked. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Oh.’ She sounded surprised. ‘You will.’

‘Leen …’

She pressed her lips closed, changed gears, checked her mirrors. ‘It’s a good thing, don’t worry.’

I watched her, waiting, but she seemed determined not to say anything else. Finally, she turned on the radio. I didn’t recognise the song that came on but she started singing softly. Her eyes shifted in my direction and when she caught me watching her she looked at the road again.

‘You changed, Cait,’ she said, almost absently. ‘After the accident.’

‘I fell apart.’

She hitched one shoulder up a fraction, like that didn’t matter.

I sighed. ‘I thought you said it was a good thing.’

‘No, not—’ She shook her head. ‘You’ll figure it out.’

She kept staring at the windscreen, the faintest hint of a smile on her lips. I was confused, trying to solve a riddle I didn’t understand. There were so many riddles and I was so tired.

‘Why can’t you just tell me?’ I asked, hoping I didn’t sound as petulant as I felt.

‘Because it doesn’t work that way.’

I looked out the window, annoyed.

But I had changed. After the accident I felt so much more. More of everything. More scared. More alone. More needy.

Too much, and I didn’t get how that could possibly be a good thing.