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“I took more time off. Someone has to look after you.” He smiled, and I knew he was only being nice, but his words cut deep as I realised I had no one.

“Billy No Mates, that’s me. No friends, no family, no nothing.” I pouted, fucked off with my life.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t mind looking after you.” His face fell, and I could have kicked myself. He’d been nothing but generous, not just with his time, but with his hospitality.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. You’ve done so much for me. I’ll never be able to repay you.”

“I’d never ask you to do that. You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you want to.” His eyes dropped to his hands resting in his lap. “I like having you here. It’s company for me. I’m a pretty social person, unless I’m at work, then I can’t wait to get away. Sometimes, patients can be needy and demanding.”

“But you love what you do. You already told me that.”

“I do. Caring for people is in my nature, especially caring for you.”

“You hardly know me.” But the thing was, I enjoyed being looked after for a change. When was the last time that had happened? I didn’t know. Probably at Gran’s.

“We’ve known each other for a couple of weeks, maybe a little more, but something feels right. I can’t explain it. Maybe it won’t last, maybe in a month or two we’ll call it quits, but the way I feel now about you… I can’t explain it.”

I loved the way he said what he meant. He never held back and always told me exactly what was on his mind.

“Will you come sit with me? No funny business, though,” I reminded him and patted the seat next to me as I had that first night we were here. My ribs would scream bloody blue murder if we tried anything.

With difficulty, I snuggled into his side.

“Are you sure that’s okay?”

It wasn’t great, but I wanted him near. He’d treated me like a china doll, for which I was grateful, but I’d missed how we’d cuddled under the blanket outside and hoped soon we’d be able to do it again before the weather turned too bad.

“A visit to your dad’s sounds like a good idea. It’ll get me out of the house, and I have hoodies I can wear to keep warm.” Could I play the piano, or would it be too painful? That wasn’t my only reason for the visit, but it was an added bonus.

The following day, we arrived at his dad’s house on a glorious autumnal day. The weather was perfect for gardening and sitting outside.

“Frankie. How lovely to see you again. How are you?” Whereas before he’d hugged me, today, he stuck out his hand. Had Mac told him what had happened? I know I said not to, but they’d need to know at some point.

“Hey, Dennis. I’m not doing so great at the moment. Had a run-in with my stepdad.” Run-in. That was one way to describe it. A full-on beating would have been a better description.

“Mac mentioned it. I want you to know you will always have a safe place here if Mac’s place becomes compromised at any time. Remember that.”

No more was said on the matter, and I was firmly ensconced on the comfy outside furniture with a creamy hot chocolate in front of me.

Tears sprang to my eyes. This was what I’d been missing.

I watched them work in tandem, Mac checking up on me every now and again, but I waved him away, telling him I was fine. And I really was.

For the first time in forever, I didn’t have to worry about being safe or watching what I said or did.

No one watched me, no one berated me, no one told me I was a loser.

But soon enough, I needed to pee. Mac was at the top of the garden with his dad, but I didn’t need help. I could get there under my own steam. Step by agonising step, I eventually made it to the bathroom. I peed and took in my appearance. The bruises couldn’t be hidden, but the cuts were slowly healing, no longer red.

I’d been there long enough, though, and Mac would wonder where I’d gone. I made my way back, pushing open the door to the piano room. This was where the happiness was. Where I’d played my heart out and, according to Mac, where his mother had been happy.

I sat on the stool and lifted the lid, taking in the smell of the keys.

I pressed one, its clear tone resonating throughout the room. I flexed my fingers and placed them on the keys. The pull was irresistible. I played a short melody I’d been experimenting with. I hadn’t told Mac about my other passion. Composing.

I might not have read music, but I could put chords and melody together into something tuneful. I carried on tinkering, playing a few more tunes.

“I thought I might find you here,” Mac said, idling in the doorway, looking all kinds of sexy with his unshaven face and tousled hair.