He gave me a long look, before his gaze dropped to my left arm, where I’d pulled my sleeve up in the warmth of the cafe. A jagged scar ran from the back of my wrist to my elbow.

‘I’ve only seen your scar once before, when you were in hospital,’ he said, too bloody clever for his own good. He wasn’t changing the subject, he knew that. He was trying to tease information out of me like he would a witness, and I wasn’t going to put up with that.

I folded my arms. ‘I haven’t seen you since February. I’ve always been wearing long sleeves.’

We sat like that for a moment, before he shrugged and admitted defeat. ‘Paige, you know if there’s ever anything you want to talk to me about, anything you want to report, I’ll be here for you.’ He reached out to touch my arm protectively, but then seemed to think better of it and pulled away, looking embarrassed.

My face softened. ‘I know that, thank you.’

‘Okay.’

I looked at my watch. ‘I’d better get going.’ I needed to leave before I found myself getting too emotional.

He nodded, and stared into his coffee, brooding, as I put my coat on and left. Once I was outside I glanced at him through the window and he gave me a small smile before pulling out his phone.

Before I went home, however, I turned off towards Brigg, a small town near Scunthorpe, and, more importantly, where Max lived. I hadn’t seen very much of him in the last couple of weeks, and it was about time I remedied that. My confusion over my feelings for Singh and the sudden appearance of Mike back into my life made me realise that I needed to look at what was right in front of me.

I pulled up outside his flat at the same time he did, and we met at the front door. When he pulled away from our kiss, he raised an eyebrow at me, his blue eyes glinting with mischief.

I don’t know what I did, but it must have been good.

I grinned at him, flooded with warmth by the way he looked at me. I just wanted to see you.

Good, he replied, and I followed him into the flat.

How was your day? I asked him as he busied himself with the kettle.

He shrugged. Same old, same old. Too much work, not enough people to do it. Yours?

Busy, I replied, with a matching shrug. Lots of people to interview in a school for the deaf.

I hope you’re being careful, he told me with a stern look. Not like last time.

Max and I had met when Lexi was killed. He knew full well how deeply I’d involved myself in that investigation, and he’d seen first-hand the level of danger I’d put myself in.