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to
survive in a cave down there, competing with a grey winter sea whose only
bright spot was the white lash of the surf. Maybe, like the seals we’d watched
playing, he’d moved on in the winter, maybe he was a summer kind of guy.
    “Hey.”
    The deep voice
should have made me jump, but it didn’t because it was just right, it belonged,
even if I’d believed it only existed in my memory now. Even though I hadn’t
thought he’d be here.
    “Hey back.” I half
turned, switched my gaze from the sea relentlessly beating the rocks, up to a
face I hadn’t seen for a long, long time. Funny how all of a sudden it could
have only been yesterday. What is it they say? Familiarity breeds contempt, but
not here.
    “I thought you
might be able to use this.” He squatted down, held out a paper bag and I took
it from him, knowing before the heat had seeped into my hand, before the smell
reached me, exactly what it was.
    “Nothing like a
Cornish pasty to beat off the chill.”
    “It might take
something a bit stronger this time of year.” I wondered how long he’d been
watching me.
    He sat down next
to me on the rock that was made for one— or two if you were friendly—took a
bite of his own pasty and stared out to sea. I’ve never been a fan of these
sidelong glances under eyelashes, but I did it now. His hair was a bit longer
than before, pulled back into a ponytail so you could see every bit of those
sharp cheekbones, making his long straight nose seem even more defined. Where
Will was all broad, stocky and strong, Ollie was the stuff sword-wielding
heroes were made of. All he needed was the ruffled white shirt and tight
breeches, and he’d be ready to fight for his lady’s honour. Except he wasn’t
interested in keeping a lady, he just wanted the fun, liked being the
daredevil. More gypsy than gent.
    I followed his
lead and took a bite of the soft pastry, and the heat and pepper hit the back
of my throat. I coughed, well, more of a splutter.
    “You okay?” He
gave me a hearty slap on the back, then his hand stilled and the warmth bled
straight through my layers, reminding my body of how it used to be.
    “Fine, thanks.” I
shifted away and fought the impulse to get up and walk. I was here for a
reason, I just hadn’t expected reality to meet me halfway.

Chapter Three
    “Why are you
here?” His voice was soft, and he’d gone back to staring at the Celtic Sea as
though it might hold the answers, and I wasn’t sure if he meant what was I
doing down in Cornwall, or right here— next to him. A spot we’d shared more
times than I wanted to remember that youthful summer that had started out with
promise and hope.
    I put the pasty
down on top of my rucksack. Why was I there? “I needed to come back, work out
why I was here in the first place.”
    He didn’t look at
me. “You really know how to put a guy in his place, don’t you?”
    There was a rough
edge to his voice that hurt.
    “I didn’t mean why
I was with you.”
    I didn’t, I’d been
with him because I’d thought we were supposed to be together, because I thought
we meant something to each other. I relaxed back against him a bit, this was
supposed to be about me, not raking up what did or didn’t go wrong. “I meant
why we left home, came here, why I ran away.”
    “We weren’t
running away, Soph, people grow up, move on and what happened to your—” I
resisted the urge to put my hands over my ears, but he stopped short. Never mentioned
my parents.
    “I just need to do
it again, grow up, without the shit ending.”
    It was true, I’d
never actually thought of it that way before, but it was true. I didn’t want to
change anything, I couldn’t change anything, but I wanted, no needed, to understand.
    “So you’ve had fun
these last few years?” He was pissed, definitely pissed, and he had a right to
be.
    “I was a cow.” I
picked the pasty up again and peeled a bit of the flaky pastry back, watching
it blow away in the wind. Risked