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Sarah had just been collecting the dog from the groomer's when she got a text from Nick asking to be picked up at the mall immediately. Something about the tone of the text—and the use of the word 'immediately'—alarmed her, so she hurried over with the dog still in the car.
As she pulled up in front of the mall, she saw a few of the rugby boys she recognized all standing in a row under the watchful eye of a security guard, and a few feet away from them, by himself, her Nick, with a bloodied tissue held to his nose, looking for all the world like he'd gotten into a fight.
Her jaw clenched. She had had enough of angry men in her life; she'd spent the last five years of Nicky's life trying to help him find healthy ways to work through his. The last thing she wanted was for him to start getting into fights and turning into a person she didn't like anymore.
He got into the car, and Sarah peered at him, seeing that he also had the beginnings of a black eye. "Nick, have you been fighting?"
"Yeah."
She waited for there to be more, but he just sat there in silence, petting the dog.
"So are you going to tell me what happened?" She hoped her tone made it clear that he didn't have a choice. She expected an answer.
"There's not really anything to tell," he said in a subdued voice.
"Oh, Nicky, come on, baby," she snapped.
He looked at her sorrowfully, a look that nearly always melted her heart, but not right now. The dog whined in sympathy as he ruffled her ears. Finally he spoke. "Harry was saying some really nasty stuffy about Charlie."
Charlie. She should have guessed, especially when he wasn't among the lads waiting outside.
"He's been really gross and mean about him for ages, and I just … I lost it."
Sarah glanced at him, but she wasn't sure what to say. She could completely imagine Harry Greene saying mean things about Charlie, and she was glad Nick was willing to stand up for his friend, but … he couldn't be fighting. He couldn't start seeing that as an option.
Nick went on, "I'm just so angry at myself for not seeing that all my friends … suck."
"Sweetheart, you know fighting is not the answer."
He hung his head, she was glad to see. "I know." Then he added, "He just used a really bad word."
Sarah looked at him again, wondering what the word was. She could think of a few. "I see." She wanted Nick to confide in her so much. If only he would tell her what was happening between him and Charlie, it would be so much easier to help him through all of this. She decided to hint at it, to try to encourage him to say … something. "Charlie's a really special friend, isn't he?"
She glanced in his direction, waiting for his response, but he didn't look at her until she'd had to turn her eyes back to the road. She checked one more time, barely catching his eye, but he was already looking down at the dog again.
"Yeah," he said softly. "He is."
It made her so sad to think he didn't feel comfortable telling her. They had always been able to talk, since he was a small boy. She'd made sure of it. And now, he'd come to the biggest crisis of his life so far, and he kept silent.
Sarah briefly considered outright asking him, but … it wouldn't be the same. She knew her Nicky, and she knew when to push and when to wait, and this was still time to wait. But another fight, anything else of that nature, and she wasn't going to keep quiet any longer.
Later that week, with his eye healing and his heart obviously hurting, Sarah felt she had waited long enough. She was concerned about the dark shadows under his eyes and the constant look of sadness on his face. It had only gotten worse since the fight, and she hadn't seen Charlie come round since, either.
Just after bedtime, she knocked on his door. "Nicky?" She poked her head inside the room. "Do you mind if I come in?"
"What's up?"
She went and sat down on the edge of his bed. "Nick … I know something's been wrong for a little while now, and I've tried to be patient and let you come to me, but—I'm worried about you." She reached for his hand. "Please talk to me."
He looked at his phone once. Then he put it down beside him and leaned his head back against the wall. For a moment, she thought he was going to begin, but he sighed deeply and said, "I can't."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. Not … not tonight, Mum. But—soon. I promise. Okay?"
"And you're all right?"
"I don't know."
"If there was anything you needed, anything I could do, you would tell me?"
"Yeah. I would."
"Okay." She sighed and got up from the bed, accepting that whatever it was, he couldn't bring himself to speak yet. When she was halfway across the room, he called to her, and she stopped.
Nick got out of bed and came to her. Sarah held her arms out, and he put his head down on her shoulder and held on tight.
Sarah held him for a long time, patting him on the back and whispering reassuring things, until Nick felt strong enough to go back to bed. She hoped she had helped. Something had to.