How am I having such a frank conversation with Nate about this? "We'll talk about this later."

"Oh? You have some?"

"No, but-" No, but all I can think about when looking at Nate now is last night, and the effect this is having on me right now. I never, ever get turned on just by looking at somebody, but my hardening nipples are from more than the weather . I can't go anywhere near Nate again without wanting his hands and mouth on me, and I could have s.e.x with him without a condom, if I trusted him. I'm on heavy-duty contraception, but I don't know if I can. I look away. A conversation for later.

"You okay?" he asks.

"You know I'm picturing you naked now, right?"

"Tell me something new," he says with more than a hint of smug.

I drag my sledge next to his and look down at where he sits in the sledge ready to go. "I like you, Nate Campbell. Just a tiny bit."

"Whoa." Nate's eyes brighten, and he cups my face in his hand as he brushes a finger across my lips. "Looks like things have changed."

Unable to resist, I shove the distracted Nate in the back, and he shouts my name as the sledge slips from its precarious position and careers down the hill, Nate grasping the string to try to manoeuvre. Suppressing a giggle, I watch him slow, as he manages to avoid the low drift this time. He stomps up the hill towards me.

"Some things have changed anyway," he says and shakes snow at me from his jacket. "You always want the upper hand, don't you? You're wasting your time trying with me."

I wrap my arms around his waist, the thick material of my silver jacket a barrier between us. "What happened to the Campbell twin sense of humour?"

"Don't worry; you'll get your own taste of that."

"Come on, then, race me."

We position ourselves side by side. Nate complains my sledge is ahead of his. By about ten centimetres.

The cold air batters my face as I shoot down the hill, the thin plastic between me and the compacting snow. The hill is covered in trails from Becca and Jason's earlier play. The concentration on Nate's face amuses me, his compet.i.tive nature written all over it. What's he like with his brother nowadays? Do they fight for superiority the way he does with me?

"Riley!" Nate points from his sledge besides me, voice urgent, and I snap my head around. Too lost in watching Nate, and enjoying the rush of the game, I miss seeing an incoming tree. Desperately I attempt to veer the sledge away, yanking on the rope to slow down, and the sledge tips sideways. I swear as the red plastic flips me over and I'm dumped sideways in the snow.

I lie back and stare at the clear blue sky and sunshine, thankful I'm wearing the stupid coat and boots now half-filled with snow. Normal Riley would be frustrated and embarra.s.sed, but in the silent countryside around, the only person who sees is Nate. I'd never think lying in the snow would be peaceful, but there's a sense of serenity and freedom lacking in my life.

I let go of the remaining tension and laugh, bunching snow in my hands. This is my life, tipped out of control and into the grasp of nature. Everything is different, including the man standing over me with concern in the eyes who once looked at me hard and emotionless.

"You all right?"

"Fine."

"I love when you laugh," he says and holds out a hand.

Nate yanks me to my feet, and I wrap my arms around his neck. Slowly, Nate tips my chin and he's joined me in my new world of freedom. His mouth touches mine and we stand together, free from all the c.r.a.p around our normal lives.

He tastes of mint, his lips cool; and when I bury my cold nose in his neck, I inhale the smell of oranges I'll always a.s.sociate with the dichotomy of the Nate I met here. Fierce pa.s.sion and a gentle, strange understanding from a soul stripped bare.

"Is this it? All the c.r.a.p over with?" he asks. He pulls my red hat off and shakes out the snow.

I wish it were. "It's a good start," I say.

My cheek warms as Nate whispers against my skin. "And I won."

"I hope you mean the race."

He winks at me. "Maybe."

Nate winds a strand of hair around his finger. "What if yesterday isn't all I want?"

My chest tightens at his words. "s.e.x?"

"Is that all you want from me?"

"No. I'm worried, that's all. I couldn't cope with the fallout from this if you laugh about me behind my back."

"Are you worried about your reputation or about us?"

"Both."

"I have a reputation to maintain too." He pokes me.

"And that's one of the reasons I'm worried. The way you treat girls, Nate."

"I think you hit the nail on the head last night. I'm not used to somebody challenging me. You certainly did." He c.o.c.ks a brow.

"And I will again."

"That's what I was hoping." Nate grabs the rope on the sledges, one in each hand. "By the way, did I tell you we could be out this afternoon?"

"What? And you've dragged me into the snow?"

"I just wanted some more fun with you before we left," he says as he heads up the hill, dragging the sledges behind him. "Before you get back to London and morph back into boring Riley again."

Unable to think of a quick retort, I watch his tall figure stride up the steep slope. Will Nate return to his old self too? What the h.e.l.l happens next?

20.

RILEY.

The nearby town bustles with shoppers stocking up after days cut off from the world too. They're a fraction of the size of the crowds I'd face in London; but after three days of isolation, the sights and sounds a.s.sault me. Snow remains on the nearby hills, patches of green breaking through, but the streets and roads are covered with brown slush.

The taxi we caught from the pub splashes through the street and pulls into a large supermarket car park where Will's large black Audi waits. The taxi driver chatted on the short trip down, throwing questions at us about our time locked away. Roger, the scruffy guy with a slight body odour problem, is friends with George and Val, and his interest was more curiosity over how George and Val coped. He also had plenty of questions about much freedom we had to eat and drink anything we wanted, and opinions on what he'd do in the situation. I made polite conversation, while Nate stared out of the window.

The couple of times I attempt to talk to Nate on the journey, I receive one-word answers, and he doesn't look at me. His unpredictability in mood is a problem. I couldn't deal with more than a physical relationship with this man. If he swings from open to closed too readily, anybody emotionally attached to him would spend life on a roundabout of confusion unless her self-esteem was high enough to accept him as he is.

Is this over already? Now we've stepped away from the last few days is he retreating like the snow behind us? Suggesting we meet again... was that to soften the blow?

Will opens his door and leans on the roof of his black car as he watches us. "Welcome back to the world of the living!" he says.

Will's hair is brushed down; the opposite of Nate's, which changes their face shapes slightly. They're still unmistakably identical twins, although Will's wearing a loose shirt over his T-shirt and blue denim rather than Nate's constant attire of black T-shirt and dark jeans. Not that he's had much wardrobe choice in recent days.

When I first met them as a pair on the Blue Phoenix tour, they were a double act and their behaviour both irritating and infectious. I don't like immature guys and the constant quipping annoyed me at first. Then I noticed how they smoothed the tension in the band, and G.o.d knows that's needed with the other two band members' att.i.tudes.

As I grew to know them, and met Nate alone a few times, I saw they fitted another cliche, the jokers with hidden sides. Drunk and high, they lived their dream, but when sober, hints of differences between the pair filtered through. They're protective of each other and friends; now I've seen Will with Fleur, although briefly, there's an intensity to match Nate's. Nate's has been channelled a different way. Would he be open to a relationship if it weren't for his past?

Will and Nate give each other brotherly claps on the shoulder, and I shiver against the wind. Nate takes my bag and inelegantly slings it into the Audi's boot. Without looking at me, he heads to the pa.s.senger door.

"How's things, Riley?" asks Will.

"Better now I'm on my way home. Thanks for picking us up."

"Never a problem. You okay to sit in the back?"

"Sure."

Nate doesn't say a word. In fact, he barely speaks past a few muttered sentences to his brother for the four-hour trip. Part of the reason is he dozes, and I'm lulled to sleep too. Dreams of why I'm exhausted follow me, and it's difficult to forget our intimacy when my body aches.

Will announces how rude we are and switches on music instead, which he proceeds to sing along to loudly. When awake, I stare out of the window as the speeding car moves along the monotonous road and away from the white world behind. Snow on the ground thins the further south we travel, and my stomach fills with excitement at seeing my son again.

"Where do you live?" he asks as the buildings lining the motorway thicken into London suburbs.

"Barnet, but you don't need to take me all the way home."

"It's cool. I'm happy to."

Old style Riley's panic and problem solving kick in. What if the brothers want inviting in? n.o.body knows where I live or who with. "No, really."

"We'll take you home," says Nate gruffly. "End of."

I'm sitting on the left in the back with a view of Will not Nate. Will pulls a face at me to indicate he's unimpressed by his brother's rude response, and I return a small smile. Will looks between us and wrinkles his nose.

"Interesting," he says.

"What is?" asks Nate.

"Expected her to give you a mouthful for that. Have you guys called a truce?"

If I could see Nate's face, this conversation would be a h.e.l.l of a lot easier.

"Kinda," he replies.

"Yes. Kind of." I tense and stare out the window at the houses lining the road. Not far now.

"Very interesting," remarks Will.

The atmosphere thickens and a smirk I recognise crosses Will's face. How long before Nate talks about me to his brother? And what will he say? A blow by blow account of our s.e.x? Do they still compare girls? I swallow. Too late, whatever happens.

I lie about which house I live in, and ask Will to drop me halfway along my street. Nate climbs out and pulls my bag from the car boot. Could this be any more awkward? I hitch the bag on my shoulder. Apparently, the situation can be more awkward because the minute Nate meets my eyes he shifts his look to the pavement.

I b.l.o.o.d.y knew it.

"I'll call you," he mumbles.

"Of course." Sarcasm edges my tone. I've heard - and used- the same words myself.

He frowns and looks up. "I will."

I almost reach to touch his cheek, imagining running my fingers through his three-day growth and touching his lips. Putting my lips on his to say goodbye and remind him of our arrangement. Nate digs his hands into his back pockets. Is this it? The last time we're polite for another two years?

"Bye, Nate."

"Yeah. See ya."

The car door slams as he climbs back inside, and I stand in my familiar surroundings, close to the bus stop with the same graffiti, and the cars parked in their every day, rightful s.p.a.ces, as if nothing changed while I was away. I wait as Will's car pulls past the local corner store, in the direction of the train station I drive to each morning. I don't miss Will pushing Nate in the shoulder and laughing as he glances back at me.

I never learn, do I?

21.

RILEY.

Snow remains on the roof of my small terraced house, but nothing like the amount in Yorkshire. A melted snowman lies forlornly on the front lawn, only a few patches of snow remain on the gra.s.s. I close the low, black metal gate with a familiar loud clunk, and the curtain at the front of the house moves. A small face disappears from view, and moments later, Josh charges out of the house and slides on the path slippery with melted snow. I catch him before he falls and sweep him into my arms.

"I missed you, Mummy. You said you wouldn't go away for a long time." I squeeze his small figure tight and cover his face with kisses.

"I'm sorry, Josh. I didn't want to stay away."

"Nanna said you were stuck in the snow." He gazes up at me with the green-blue eyes, which remind me of his dad. "Did you get cold?"

"I was safe and warm inside a house. I just couldn't leave because the roads were blocked. Otherwise, I would've come straight home to see you."

I carry Josh inside where Mum stands in the kitchen doorway. Her wavy brown hair is pulled into a ponytail, her smile warm, but face tired. She's smaller than me, curvier too, and since Dad's death has lost some of the weight she carried. Dressed in figure-shaping jeans and a casual top, Mum hasn't moved into middle-aged slacks and sweats yet.

As a younger grandmother, she has more energy for the child-caring role she took on readily years ago. Now Josh attends school, and she lives away from us, Mum's not as involved as she'd like to be. I don't have a nanny, but my friend and neighbour, Lauren, runs a childminding service from home and she cares for a few of the working mums' children after school and in the holidays. Although Mum prefers to look after Josh in the holidays, something he complains about because he'd rather be with his friends.