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‘She didn’t say it back,’ Molly repeated, her voice cracking.

‘I don’t know why that is, but I do know that you’re a loveable person, Molly.’

That fetched up another gulpy sob.

‘And I know that people mess up,’ Karen said, her tone taking on a quiet, maternal authority that Molly had never heard from her own mother in her entire life. ‘You’ve spent your life protecting yourself by never giving anyone a second chance. Someone slips up once, and you write them off forever. But life doesn’t work like that. Not everyone gets it right the first time around, Molly. Sometimes people panic. Sometimes people need a second chance to say what they meant to say.’

Molly leaned her head back against the pillar, looking up at the dirty station ceiling, tears still drying on her cheeks. ‘It’s too late. I said awful things.’

‘Is she in Birmingham tonight?’ Karen asked.

‘Yeah. O2 Arena.’

‘Then get off that platform,’ Karen ordered gently. ‘Go to the venue. Go find her, take a breath, and talk to her without making a joke or a defence. Do some listening while you’re at it. And if it’s not to be, then it’s not. But you’ll know for sure.’

‘What about the audition tomorrow?’

‘The train takes two hours, Molly. You can catch a train tomorrow morning. Go back to her and apologise for what you said. You’d be surprised how far that can get you.’

The computerised voice over the Tannoy blared: The delayed 11:42 service to London Euston is now arriving at Platform 2.

Molly looked down at the yellow line on the platform, then at her phone.

‘Karen?’ Molly said quietly.

‘Yeah?’

‘You’re alright.’

Karen laughed. ‘Go,’ she said, and hung up.

The train roared into the station, sending a gust of warm air whipping through Molly’s hair. Doors hissed open. People surged past her, pushing onto the carriages.

Molly stood still for three long seconds. Then, tightening her grip on the strap of her bag, she turned her back on the train and started walking back up toward the exit.

Thirty-Three

Ashley stood in front of the cracked mirror in the green room, pulling her leather jacket on over her shoulders. Her reflection looked hollowed out. Outside, three thousand fans were already chanting Ashley’s name, their collective stomping vibrating right through the concrete floor and into the soles of her boots.

She still hadn’t heard a peep from Molly. Every time she checked her phone, the blank lock screen felt like a physical slap.

‘It’s mine, Elena!’ Toby suddenly hissed from across the room. ‘I left it plugged into my side of the sofa! You can’t just yank it out and claim it’s communal property because your phone died!’

Ashley’s eyes were already rolling.

Jax, Toby, and Elena were standing in a tight, tense triangle near the snack table. Toby was glaring down at a tangled white USB cable in his hand, his chest heaving, while Elena stood with her arms crossed, her jaw set tight.

‘It was sitting in an empty socket!’ Elena shot back, stepping into his space. ‘It’s a piece of plastic, Toby, not your family heirloom!’

Jax watched the two of them squabble over the wire, rubbing the bridge of their nose in sheer, unadulterated exhaustion.

‘Right,’ Jax said, setting their bass down against an amplifier with a heavy thump that instantly silenced the room. ‘We’re doing this now. Before we step onto that stage.’

Toby crossed his arms tightly over his chest, his knuckles white. ‘Doing what?’

‘The truth,’ Jax said flatly. ‘Because I am sick to death of the whispering, the passive-aggressive texting, and the fact that we are all sleeping with each other and pretending we’re not.’

Elena let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. ‘Excuse me? I’m not pretending anything. You’re the one who told me you weren’t seeing Toby anymore!’