‘Or was it Mum who came up with the idea?’ Dylan continued. ‘Did Mum tell you to keep Rhonda sweet?’ There was a pause then a bitter laugh from Dylan. ‘I knew it. I fucking knew it. Jesus, Cole, don’t you want to stop living under the shadow of what happened? It’s all going to shit anyway with Rosa and Gavin putting in that land appeal. You realise if they win, it would have all been for nothing?’

Rosa and Gavin. The people who owned the farmhouse.

‘Why the hell do you think I’m fighting to get Asher’s business?’ Cole retorted. ‘We need the money! We need you! You’ve not been the same since you met Gwyneth. And now you want to tell her everything despite hardly knowing her.’

‘I do know her. This thing we have, I can’t explain it.’

Cole rolled his eyes. ‘Yes, it’s called lust.’

‘It isn’t like that!’

‘I know you, Dylan. I know how you get.’

Dylan shook his head. ‘We can trust Gwyneth, I swear. She has her own secrets, I see it in her face; it’s like looking in a mirror.’

I stepped back farther into the darkness, heart thumping. Was I really that transparent? I tucked the scarf into a drawer in one of the tables in the hallway then walked back into the living room as the two men continued talking in hushed whispers outside. I’d already heard too much.

As I sat waiting for Dylan in the living room, I half-heartedly listened to Asher talk about his business. But my mind was on what I’d overheard, especially the last bit. It occurred to me that maybe that was what had drawn Dylan and me together, the fact that something dark lurked inside. Was that really a healthy foundation for a relationship?

Not if we couldn’t share the secrets that lived deep within our hearts.

When Dylan walked into the room, he looked deep in thought. I made a resolution that as soon as we got some time alone together, I’d tell him about everything: about my parents, about what I’d done. And then maybe he’d tell me about his secrets too. We’d start fresh, clean, open, like he wanted. Like I wanted.

But first we needed to figure out what we’d do next. I could see myself staying in Iceland, just for a bit. Maybe we’d go to my flat in London after, spend some time figuring out what was next for us.

Hekla walked in then. I watched as she checked her phone for messages. I admired her, but I didn’t want to be like her, being so driven by work that she put it above everything else. It was time I stopped running away from what I wanted. It was time I set down some solid roots.