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“Oh yes? What’s going on with you guys?”

“I don’t know, to be honest. We’re kind of friends now.” She paused to sit next to her mum. “Scratch that, we are actual friends. It’s just a bit of a rocky road.”

Yvonne nodded. “I noticed your dad was a bit funny the other day, when I mentioned you working at the resort as a favor to Sam. But later on, when I asked him why, he changed the subject.”

Glancing down, Maya rubbed her toe over the carpet. “Dad used to think Sam was a bad influence, back when I started at the ski center.”

“How come? He didn’t know about your involvement?”

“No, he didn’t. It was a misunderstanding, really. I enjoyed working there and wondered . . .” She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “Whether I might like to pursue it as a career, rather than going to uni. Sam encouraged me to speak to Dad about it, and I did. But . . . Dad and I both decided it was best that I continue with the plan for an accountancy career. None of it was Sam’s influence, he was just trying to help me voice my feelings.”

She was aware it was a heavily edited version of the truth. But if she told her mum the exact details, then it would be easy for Yvonne to put two and two together. And she didn’t want to put her mum in a difficult position with her dad.

The discussion with her dad had, in fact, been more of a blowout, which had taken place on the date of the Tavern night out. Maya had tried to explain that she wanted to consider deferring university and staying on at the resort. She hadn’t even suggested that the situation be permanent. But Omar had still come down hard, rubbishing her plan and reducing her to an ashamed child. She’d made the mistake of mentioning Sam’s support, and her dad had taken it the wrong way, accusing Sam of interfering and being a negative influence, when the idea was purely Maya’s construction and Sam had merely suggested that she voice it.

Omar had towered over her as she’d called Sam to say that she’d changed her mind about the idea, that she was going through with accountancy after all because ski instructing wasn’t a real job. Sam had taken that personally, which she’d felt bad about, but also resentful that he was making it about him. They’d exchanged a few tense words before she’d ended the call, because it had been overwhelmingly stressful with her dad in earshot. Not that Sam had known Omar was there. She couldn’t tell him that at the time, and then she’d never gotten the chance.

Maya had assumed they’d smooth it over at the pub later that evening. But in the end, those had ended up being the last words they’d spoken before she left for university a week later.

She closed her eyes for a moment, the painful memories washing over her. She had tried to go back and speak to Sam, to explain what had really happened. And to apologize, even though she’d been upset that he’d taken what she’d said as a slight when it wasn’t about him, and they hadn’t even been her words but those of her father. But then she’d been confronted by the sight of Sam making out with her friend and concluded that he was a total knob. And that, as they say, was that.

But none of it mattered now. Eight years had passed, and Sam was a different person. Bygones were bygones, and confronting the past only brought pain, so it was best ignored and not spoken about again. Though maybe I should’ve tried harder to explain to Dad that Sam was only trying to help. At the time, she’d been too convinced of Sam’s lack of integrity once the sight of him with Cat had shattered the remaining fragments of her broken heart.

The doorbell sounded, bringing her out of the rumination and saving her from any further elaborations. “That’ll be Sam.”

Yvonne took her hand with a squeeze, then left the room, and Maya practically ran down the stairs, shouting, “It’s for me!” for her father’s benefit. Not that he showed any signs of emerging from the living room, where he was no doubt buried in that bloody medical journal. Yawn.

As she reached the door, she realized her heart was tripping along rather fast, and it wasn’t only from the exertion of her light- speed descent from the first floor.

Despite expecting him, she was thrown by the sight of Sam. He still appeared tired, but his tousled hair looked ripe for running her fingers through, and the burnt-orange jumper showing under the open zip of his jacket brought out the intensity of his amber eyes.

She managed a smile and gestured him inside, trying not to stare at the way his jeans hugged the contours of his muscular thighs. “Here,” she said, “I’ll take your jacket.”

As she took it from him, their fingers brushed right as his gaze locked with hers, and an electrifying pulse coursed through her body.

“Thanks,” Sam said, bending to remove his boots.

“Come upstairs.” Maya started in that direction with him following.

Sam paused as he caught sight of Yvonne in the kitchen. “Hey, Mrs. B.”

“Hi, Sam,” she replied. “And it’s Yvonne.”

“Hi, Yvonne,” he called back as he ascended the stairs behind Maya.

She led him into her room, giving him the seat by her desk, while she hovered at the door. “Do you want a tea or a coffee?”

Sam smiled. “I’m fine, thanks.”

Maya sat on the bed across from him. “How was your day?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Pretty shit. But that was my own fault. I feel really bad about how I spoke to you earlier.”

Her mouth dry, she shook her head. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I’m really sorry.” He sighed. “I didn’t sleep well last night because I was in the spare room and I can’t get comfy in there.”

She nodded, wanting to ask why he’d slept there, but remembering what Liv had said about how he’d keep the details to himself if there’d been an argument with Cat. “Could you not get comfy because it’s like a graveyard for all your old crap? That’s what our spare room was like at the flat I shared with Rich.”