~Evric's POV~
I could only manage one choked word into his jacket: "I'm sorry."
"Oh, it's okay," Evans murmured, holding me tighter.
After a long, shuddering moment, the storm of tears subsided. I finally pulled back, feeling utterly spent. I looked up at Evans like a child seeking comfort from his mother, my face stained, my soul raw.
Evans gently sat me down on the sofa, then reached out and ruffled my hair—a gesture he had always made since we were teenagers.
"You know what you are, Evric?" Evans said softly, his voice devoid of judgment. "You're just a baby boy who's forcing himself to grow up." He walked to the nearby bar and poured a glass of water. "But you really do need to grow up. Not just for us, and not just for the company, but for your man."
He handed me the water. "Zayn really deserves the best of you, Evric."
