Page 176 of Playing By Ear

“Hmm?” Jamie’s feet found his beneath the covers.

“I also love U2, though their later albums leave me a bit cold.”

Jamie tensed. “So you, erm…”

“I found your message on a bottle.” He kissed Jamie softly, beside his mouth. “Thank you.”

“I’ll be able to say it aloud eventually.”

“It’s all right if you can’t.”

“It’s not all right.” Jamie was silent for a few seconds. “I’ve not said it to anyone since I was a wean.”

“Not even your sister?”

“Oddly, no. I do, though, ferociously.”

“Ferociously love her?”

“Aye. That. The bones of her. And she, me, I’m sure of it.”

“It’s a good thing to be sure of.”

“This is true.” Jamie rested his palm against Perry’s chest, as though monitoring his heart. “I was thinking, you might want to set all your socials to private and reject any new follow- or friend-requests for a wee while. Makes it less likely someone’ll post naked screen grabs where people like your parents will find them.”

“Excellent idea.” He picked up his phone from the bedside table. “I really don’t need my worlds colliding.”

With a few taps, he restricted access to his Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram accounts. Both his Twitter and Instagram had a few new followers who looked dodgy, so he blocked them.

“Have you worked out what to do,” Jamie asked, “if the world finds out about your camming? Whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”

That meant a lot, not just emotionally, but practically. It took Jamie as a variable out of the equation. “Still pondering,” Perry told him. “What about you? Are you going back to your father’s house after what you’ve learned?”

“Aye, of course. He’s still my dad. I need to see this through.”

Perry nodded, more in support than understanding, for he might never fathom Jamie’s filial devotion. “Then I’m coming with you.”

Entering his father’s house with Perry around eight, Jamie was glad to see Aunt Rosemary coming down the stairs carrying the jotter Jamie used to document Martin’s illness. Belinda had no doubt asked her to take a night shift, considering his kids had been too furious to deal with him.

Rosie looked at her watch. “So early, lads. You could have had more of a lie-in. Everything’s under control here.” She reached the hall and beamed up at Perry. “Martin raves about your cooking.”

“Ah, that’s lovely to hear,” Perry said.

“Happy to see you out of that boot,” she told Jamie. “We’re all excited for the Cup final. Dean’s going to bring the TV up to your dad’s room so we can have a watch party on the big screen.”

“That’ll be brilliant.” Despite his ambivalence toward the family, he was warmed by the thought of their support at his biggest football moment. “So, how’s Dad? Clean, safe, comfortable?”

“Clean, safe, comfortable,” she said, reciting the mantra. Then her eyes turned sad. “Though he’s much quieter today.”

Perry touched Jamie’s arm. “I’ll set up in the kitchen, see what I can make.” He moved away, maybe sensing the two of them needed a minute alone.

“Thanks for staying with him last night,” Jamie told Rosemary. “I didn’t realize how much I needed a break until I…broke.”

“Aw, lad, it’s the least I could do.” Rosie took him in her arms and held him tight. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

“For not protecting you more when you were a wean. I was a poor substitute mum.”