Chapters (46)
- Cover
- Midnightin theSnow
- Dedication page
- Prologue
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgements
- ChristmasUNDER THESTARS
- TheCHRISTMASSECRET
- TheCHRISTMASLIGHTS
- TheChristmasParty
- Together byChristmas
- There’s a Karen Swan book for every season . . .
- Midnight in the Snow
- Also by Karen Swan
‘No one was here. We didn’t kno—’
Ari stood beside him and put his own hand over Kit’s, on her arm. ‘Mate, calm down. Let go of her arm.’
But Kit was still glowering at her. ‘When are you going to realize your apologies are worthless? The damage is done. Nothing you say can make up for what you’ve done. Don’t you get it?’
Clover stared back at him, her breath held. Was he still talking about the chess game?
‘Her arm, Kit. Let it go.’ Ari’s voice was firm, his gaze steady. ‘Now.’
Kit looked down at her arm; he seemed surprised to find himself holding it. He released his grip on her bicep, a sneer on his mouth.
‘You okay?’ Ari asked her.
Clover nodded, but she knew she was visibly upset; she couldn’t hide this. She felt scorched by his contempt, frightened by his fury. She was aware her face was flushed and that she was breathing heavily, her body in panic mode.
‘What’s going on?’
They turned to see Beau standing in the middle of the room. He was holding a bowl of water and another of cotton wool balls. He had taken off his all-orange outer layers and was wearing only his dark grey base layers and socks. He was so tall, all gangly arms and legs . . . Matty hadn’t been off the mark with her Pluto reference.
‘Nothing,’ Foley snapped, pulling his t-shirt and long-sleeved thermal over his head in one movement as he walked towards the sofa. Clover saw his muscled back was streaked with bruises and vivid red weals. They were nasty, running from his shoulder blades to his hips. From his fall earlier, she supposed. The surface of the halfpipe was so compacted it shone like glass, but small balls of hard crud formed at the top of the walls where the boarders carved and sliced turns, and they ran straight back down to the centre of the pipe. Skidding on them on exposed skin would be painful, like rolling on gritty marbles.
Beau gave a quizzical look to Ari as he passed, but the manager just shook his head in silence as if to say ‘not now’. Clover watched as Beau joined his brother on the sofa and began dabbing the wounds with salted water.