She tapped her index finger against her lips. ‘I may have just thought of a way you could help him.’

Chapter Thirty

They were sitting in the lobby area when the commotion outside and an explosion of flashing lights told them Kit and Ari were back. Clover sat erect in her chair as she saw Kit leap into the revolving doors.

‘He’s like Superman,’ Matty muttered.

He pulled off the helmet and goggles that he had kept on as a further block to the photographers getting a clean shot. Snow sprinkled off him as he shook his hair out. Ari emerged behind him a moment later, then Johnny, his camera resting casually on his shoulder like a pet parrot.

‘Bro!’ Beau jumped up, wandering over to his brother, arms outstretched. If he looked incongruous with his baggy layers and tangled hair amid the polished marble and furs, he didn’t seem aware of it.

Kit grinned as he saw him and they all watched as the brothers embraced; there was no doubting their bond. Everything Beau had told her was true, she knew that in her bones. For a moment she tried to see the two of them as little boys, running from a drunken bully, their own father . . . Kit flying down the stairs . . .

Kit looked up and saw them all, watching. His smile faded, his eyes snagging on her and staying there for a moment. Did he regret what they’d done – and said – the other night? She’d scarcely seen him since she’d left his room and she knew he was avoiding her. It had felt so natural at the time as they wandered from their chosen paths for a few stolen hours . . . He didn’t trust her and she didn’t know what to believe about him, and yet the connection flickered between them like radio static, voices occasionally coming clear through the atmosphere, before being carried off again in the next instant.

‘Where’s Tipper?’ Beau asked.

‘Still up there. Captain’s meeting. We’re having a debrief with him at six.’

‘So how was it?’ Clover asked, looking between Kit and Ari.

‘Well, a cautious first run, fell on the second . . .’ Ari grinned, slapping Kit so hard on the shoulder that Kit had to take a step back. ‘Nailed it on the third. Pulled a 95.8 out of the bag, enough to get him starting position seven in the finals.’

‘Yes!’ Beau whooped joyously, oblivious as he almost induced a heart attack in an elderly woman walking past with her Maltese terrier. ‘What did you put down?’

‘Back-to-back 1620s and a Double Alley-Oop.’

‘Sweet,’ Beau nodded, raising his hand for his brother to high-five. ‘When’s the final?’

‘Seven tomorrow evening.’

‘Under the lights? Nice.’

‘I’m glad you got back here,’ Kit said. ‘I was getting worried you were gonna stay in Saas-Fee.’