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What did they have to talk about? The race? No, everything was tied up with that. He tried to think, but even that was painful. Reaching across to his bedside drawer, he felt around for some painkillers and swallowed a couple with the glass of water that could have been sitting there for a week, but he didn’t care.

Reaching the end of the black run, Sam wondered how he’d made it through the lesson with only half an operating brain. He hadn’t even been able to wear his goggles because the pressure they exerted on his face was too much, but without them the low winter sun had hurt his eyes. He’d resorted to sunglasses and resigned himself to everyone thinking he was a poser.

Lifting off his helmet, his head felt a thousand times lighter. Time to locate Maya and find out what she wanted to talk about, because he hadn’t managed to see her yet. After he’d taken the first lot of painkillers, he’d fallen back to sleep, then had only awoken just in time to walk to his car and make it here for his class.

He headed into the center, wondering where she’d be. She didn’t have any classes on a Monday, but there were numerous jobs she’d voluntarily taken on, and had been coming in every day. She was working too hard and clearly avoiding speaking to her family. Frowning, he decided he needed to do more to support her.

As he entered the café, Rowan walked toward him, and he gave her a wave. “Hey, have you seen Maya?”

“Yeah,” Rowan replied, nodding her head toward the main foyer with a smile. “She’s in the boot room. Got a bee in her bonnet about how things are organized.”

Sam shook his head, grinning. “Thanks.”

Sounded about right. Maya would have this place in top shape by the time she left. As he crossed into the main foyer, the grin fell from his face, his heart gone icy cold at the thought of her leaving.

Sam opened the door to the boot room. It was nice and dark in there, soothing his eyes.

He realized he still had on his sunglasses. Taking them off, he wandered through the aisles. “Maya?”

Her voice rang out, sounding flatter than usual. “Down here.”

As he rounded a corner, she was there, sitting cross-legged on the floor, a massive pile of boots in front of her.

“What’re you doing?” he asked.

“Making a new system.” She stretched, glancing at him. Her eyes appeared wary for some reason. “I pinched an idea from Glencoe.”

Sam took off his jacket and sat next to her. “I am so hungover you wouldn’t believe it.” He unbuckled his ski boots.

“I’m not surprised. You drank half the bar last night.” Her voice still sounded weird. Like her usual brightness had been sucked out. Maybe she was hungover too.

The idea of alcohol pained him. “I’m never drinking again.” He removed the boots and smiled at her. Her face was pinched, and it caused his smile to slip. Something major was up. “Are you okay?”

She studied him. Her tone was flat, blunt. “You don’t remember, do you?”

Sam rubbed his beard, trying to fathom what she meant. “Remember what?”

“Last night.” She glared at him. “What you said to Brodie at the bar.”

Sam frowned, trying to recall. Things had gotten a little hazy after the prize giving, and he only had snatches of memory.

He must’ve looked blank because Maya gave him a nudge. “You kept hugging me and kissing my forehead and stuff in front of Brodie.”

His gut churned. He remembered seeing Maya with Brodie. He’d gone over there and acted like a possessive arse over a woman who wasn’t even his.

“Oh God.” He rubbed his temples, squeezing his eyes shut. “I do remember that. I’m sorry, did I ruin things for you guys?” Why the hell had he done that? He hadn’t been able to stop himself from questioning her about Brodie on the way to the Tavern either, and he hadn’t even had a drink then.

Maya shook her head. “You didn’t ruin anything. I told you before, we’re just friends. I explained to him after our little peck that I wasn’t interested in anything else.” She gave him a pointed look. “However. If I did want to be anything more than friends with him, then it wouldn’t be any of your business.”

Sam closed his eyes in extreme discomfort. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Then why were you acting like that?”

Opening his eyes again, he wasn’t sure what to say. He certainly didn’t want to admit that he’d been jealous. “Just being overprotective because you’re my friend.”

She was studying him, her dark eyes practically boring into his soul. “But you said that you thought Brodie was a good guy.”

Sam fiddled with the clasp of his ski boot, unsure how to get out of this one. “I don’t know him that well. So maybe when I got a drink in me, I decided to make sure he was good enough for you.” He kept his gaze off hers, in case she saw through his lie with her bewitching, probing eyes.