Well, not exactly. There had been no actual tears; Abbie didn’t do that. If she had, he might’ve called an ambulance. But outside, in the cold, when she’d said, “I can’t do this,” there’d been a ragged edge to her voice and a flash of sadness in her eyes that gutted him. No matter how little time they actually spent together, he knew this woman. He knew her well. And the look on her face out there—Yeah, she might as well have shed a tear.

Now Will was frantic over the only question that mattered: Why?

Somewhere inside him was a howl of vicious pain, the kind you couldn’t focus on until you were entirely alone because otherwise you might break down in public. So he forced his leaden muscles to move, chose a trolley, and snuck a sideways glance at Abbie instead. She’d packed all her emotions neatly away and was studying Asda’s giant, flashing Christmas trees with fake interest that anyone else would consider one hundred percent real. But Will, as always, knew where to look. This time, his gaze dipped to her hands and found them clasped tight, pale little halos forming where her fingertips pressed too hard into the skin.

He’d known Abbie might not be ready for … romantic stuff, not with anyone, never mind with him. She’d been through a lot. She’d always taken time to process her emotions, and judging by the way she’d kept her whole family at a distance these last two years, she was still doing that. But she was so fucking confident and put together and badass, it had never occurred to Will that Abbie might actually be scared—not until that moment between them outside. That moment when he’d seen a flash of fear besides the sadness.

“I … I can’t do this.”

There wasn’t anything this woman couldn’t do. He absolutely believed that. But it was looking like she absolutely believed otherwise, and realising it felt like two hands twisting his stomach in opposite directions. He’d freak the fuck out about losing her—about never fucking having her—some other time. Right now, he wanted to make her smile. Wanted to be a friend first, because she’d needed that this last couple of years, and she still needed it now.

This decided, Will pulled the baseball cap and fake moustache out of his back pocket, slapped them both on, and slapped a few mental bandages on the gaping wound in his chest for good measure. He’d deal with that later.