LAYLA
Josh nods. “He has informed me on multiple occasions that having a son who runs an ‘agony aunt’ column is deeply embarrassing. But I don’t exactly care about his opinion. He’s a terrible person.”
Crap. “And your mum?” I follow up, almost scared to ask. Josh doesn’t say anything, spinning his water glass between his fingers. I may be socially stunted, but I know how to take a hint, so I turn to Zack.
“What about your parents?”
“They don’t mind me doin’ the podcast,” he says happily. “I think they’re still kinda sad I’m not playing rugby, though. It was my dream ever since I was a kid. They were as cut up as me when I injured my knee.”
“Did you have to get surgery?”
“Oh, aye.” He yanks up the ankle of his dress trousers, showing me the long scar striping down the front of his kne
