John's hand formed into a fist as he knocked on Evie's childhood home. It was January, and freezing in London. Being here felt like a vacation, an escape from the cold. It was always warmer here, and during the summer it felt like hell. But it was also why Evie was so accustomed to the heat. He felt his heart beating inside his chest, ta-da- ta-da.

The door opened. "Hello." John waved as the door was opened further. The look in Etta's face, it looked like she had seen a ghost. "Etta," he told her. "Is Evie here?"

Etta opened her mouth to speak but closed it. She rubbed her face and let him past. "Why don't you come inside for a cup of tea?"

"Alright, then," he said. He had gotten past Etta easier than he had thought. Goodness, in a little while he would be back with Evie! He couldn't believe his luck, he was grinning. He hid his grin by coughing once, not wanting Etta to notice.

"Johnny!" A voice said.

He turned around and saw Flor running towards him. "Flor!" She collapsed in his arms and he held her tight, laughing. "It's so nice to see you," he ended their hug to look at her. She was taller and her hair was longer. "Goodness, look how much you've grown!"

"I missed you," Flor told him.

He took a step back. "You missed me?"

"It's been a year!"

"A year, really?"

"Uh-huh. You missed my birthday last year," she said.

"Oh, I'm very sorry about that. But I'm here now, how about I give you some money and you buy yourself something nice?" He suggested. Flor shook her head. "No gift? What then?"

"You're here now."

"Is that enough?"

"Uh-huh." Flor nodded her head.

John stooped down to Flor's level, meeting her eyes. "Flor," he said. "Where is Evie?"

"She's not here."

"Is Evie at work?" He asked.

"Evie is not here," she replied. She ran away from him, and ran up the stairs. John closed the front door. Fear began to set in his mind as he began to think of the worst possible scenario. What if something had happened to Evie?

"John," Etta called him from the kitchen. John followed her voice to the kitchen. He watched as Etta poured boiling water to a cup and added a tea bag. She motioned for him to sit and he did. "How are you doing? Are you taking care of yourself?"

"As well as can be expected," he replied. He poured some sugar in his tea, and stirred.

"Meaning?" She asked.

John looked up, setting the spoon down. He had to be more careful when speaking to Etta, and Flor for that matter. "I'm exhausted from touring. We also just released a new album," he said. He sipped his tea. "Have you heard it?"

"Evie did."

"Did she?" He couldn't help but feel satisfaction at the thought of Evie listening to the music he had created. He could picture her sitting down and listening to the lyrics carefully.

"Run for your life was her favorite," Etta informed him. John choked on his tea. He felt his blood rush to his cheeks. "I'd rather see you dead, little girl, than to be with another man, is an incredibly line, John. I applaud you."

The front door opened. "Mom! I forgot the onions, do you want me to run back to the store?" She asked. John sat up on his seat the sound of Evie's voice. He heard footsteps get closer to the kitchen. "No, I'm serious, it tastes so much better with lettuce."

"Lettuce has never made anything better," a male voice said. Fuck, fuck, fuck. That's why Evie hadn't called. She had found someone else.

She had found someone else. Evie stopped in the kitchen, bags of groceries in her arms. "John—"

"Evie."

"I should probably run," the man beside Evie said. Evie put the bags on the counter. The man beside her put the bags he was carrying on the kitchen table. Evie frowned, and looked at him.

"No, Nate," Evie said. "I invited you to dinner you're staying."

"Evie," John repeated.

Evie turned to face him, her expression set in stone. "John," she said. "What are you doing here?"

"Do you need help in the kitchen?" He asked. He wasn't sure why he wasn't pouncing on the guy and beating the bleeding hell out of him. Not that he didn't want to anyway, he did. He could feel the anger bubbling inside of him, threatening to spill out.

"Sure."

"She's really fine, thank you," Nate said.

John moved forward. "Who are you?" He questioned. Evie stepped forward, rolling her eyes. She put out her hands in front of her, and turned towards John.

"Out," she told him. "Out."

John did as told, and walked out to the backyard.

x

He was there as Nate and Evie hung out in the kitchen. He was there as they talked and laughed. After what felt like hours, Evie walked outside to the backyard. She hugged her cardigan around her and walked towards him. Being outside hadn't been too bad (if it weren't for Nate) the grass, and Flor's playhouse were interesting enough to look at. He also had his memories of the last time he'd been here, in Evie's yard. The last time he'd been here, for Evie's birthday, he couldn't stop kissing her and hugging her.

"What are you doing here, John?" Evie asked again. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Evie, who was he?"

She swallowed, then looked away. She laughed bitterly. "Oh my god."

"Who is he?"

"I can't believe you're getting jealous!" She uncrossed her arms and let them drop by her side. "We aren't together anymore. I don't know what you're doing coming out of the blue and getting jealous over Nate."

"If you have someone else than I deserve to know," John replied. He let out a sigh. He didn't feel angry anymore. He just felt sorry for himself. He had come all the way here, only to end up more miserable than before. How was that even possible?

"He's a neighbor. Nate. You should remember Nate. Wegrew up together. He was friends with my brother," Evie said. John let out a sigh of relief. He licked his lips, he reached out to Evie to try and apologize. She stopped him. "John, what are you doing here? You call to tell me you hate me, then you appear months later out of the blue. What do you want?"

"Did you get my letters?"

"What letters?"

"I've been sending letters for the last six months."

Evie quickly left the backyard. She went inside the house. He turned towards the kitchen window and saw as Evie argued with her mum. They both yelled at each other, then Evie returned with tears on her eyes.

"Mom's been keeping them a secret for months," she told him. She had the letters in her hands. She looked through them, but didn't open them. "God, I can't believe her."

"You should forgive her."

Evie looked at him funny, as though she didn't recognise him. "You still haven't answered my question. What do you want?"

"Read the letters," John instructed. "The letters will tell you everything you need to know. I'll write down the number of the hotel so you can ring me later if you want."

He stopped to leave, but Evie grabbed his arm. "John, please."

"Do you love me?" He asked.

"Sometimes love is not enough," she replied. He wanted to laugh. She sounded so unlike herself, he couldn't help but feel responsible for turning her bitter. If Evie didn't believe in love, then he wasn't sure if he should either.

Except he did believe in love.

"Sometimes love is not enough, do you hear yourself, Iv? What happened to you?" He asked. He reached out to touch her but Evie took a step back.

"Stop it. Don't manipulate me. I'm allowed to change."

"Of course you are."

She shook her head. "We're not good for each other, John. We're not. Maybe in ten, fifteen years down the road we would be. We'd know how to do this better, but we don't right now. That's okay. We're allowed mistakes."

"I'm not a mistake," John said. He wasn't. He didn't want to believe he was. What he'd had with Evie was real. It was real, she couldn't say it was a mistake because it wasn't. It was real love, it was raw, and honest. "Marry me, Iv. Marry me and make me the happiest man alive."

"How stupid of me would that be? Marrying you while nothing has changed," she replied. He hadn't expected coming here to be easy. But at least, Evie wasn't saying no. She wasn't denying what she felt for him. There was still something there, and he could deal with something.

"What needs fixing, Iv?" He asked. "What about us do you think needs to change? What bothered you?"

"There's a lot—" she began. Then, she stopped. "I can't do this right now, John. I can't think straight. I can't hear myself think."

"Read the letters, then," he replied. "If you decide you want to talk then ring me. If not, then...that's fine too."

He went back inside the house and Evie followed. He grabbed a pen from the table and wrote down the information of the hotel he was staying in. He walked out, and neither said goodbye. It didn't feel like goodbye anyway. John felt that even if Evie didn't call back, he had still grown from their breakup. He had still grown.

x

At night, Evie stared at the phone.

And John got his reply.