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I lost it then, totally and completely. The prickling became a burning, and the tears were flooding down my face like a torrent. I let Joel pull me close to him.

“Mel’s really honoured that Natalie thought so highly of her. We’ve got a good feeling about Wimbledon too, and I’m sure that Mel will do everything she can to do Natalie proud,” Joel replied. I felt him reach out and shake Frederick’s hand – I couldn’t really see it through the blur of tears.

“Mel and I have made a donation to the hospital,” Joel added. “We hope it makes a difference.”

“I’m sure it will,” Frederick said. “Thank you so much!”

As Joel drew me away from the crowd, I let the tears take over completely. He pulled me against his chest and I sobbed onto his black shirt. The air was so icy, my tears made the fabric cold almost immediately.

Joel’s hands moved up and down against my back rhythmically, until I was semi-calm. I didn’t move my face from his chest though. It felt too nice, too comforting to be enveloped in his arms.

“I’m sorry I cried on your shirt again,” I mumbled. I felt Joel’s chest shake with … what? Tears? Laughter?

“I told you my shirts are always at your service for all tear-soaking purposes.”

“Mel,” a familiar voice said behind me. I hid against Joel’s chest, wiping at my streaming eyes.

“Hi, Brad,” Joel greeted him warily.

I turned and gave him a watery smile. “Hi,” I replied bashfully. I felt kind of weird seeing him so soon after what had happened last night. He held his arms out as if he expected Joel to pass me over to him.

Joel started to release me with a little sigh of resignation. Something snapped in my brain. I clung to his waist and he pulled me back against him.

Brad dropped his arms, and the look on his face made guilt roar in my chest. I shouldn’t have kissed him back last night.

This new, strange awkwardness I felt in his presence was the consequence.

I hoped that it would wear off. I hoped that by the time I got back from Wimbledon, things would be back to normal, the kiss in the car forgotten.

I doubted it would be that easy somehow.

“I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am, Mel,” Brad said formally. I reached out and touched his arm briefly.

“Thanks, Brad.”

“You had a special connection with her,” he added.

I smiled at him again, a little warmer now. I felt Joel’s hand move from my shoulder to my waist. I ignored the tingling his touch sent through me. Or tried to ignore it anyway. Unsuccessfully.

“I was about to take Mel out for lunch. Do you want to come?” Joel asked.

Brad glanced at me, eyes wary, then shook his head. “No, thanks. I’ve got classes this afternoon anyway.” He turned to me. “Mel, I’ll see you when you get back from England?”

I nodded.

“Well, good luck.”

Brad leaned in and kissed me on the cheek, then stepped back and, giving me a wistful look, he turned and walked away.

“That was … awkward,” Joel said as we headed towards the Opera House. I turned and looked at him, expecting a smug expression. But all I saw were serious, pouty lips, and eyes that cut through me like blue diamonds.

Stupid me, I wanted him to kiss me, so badly. When I looked at him, I could understand the things that Brad had said to me … ‘ there’s so much that I want’ …

“Well, if it’s going to be that awkward after thirty seconds of tongue kissing, I’m really glad I didn’t take him to bed.”

Joel chuckled then. “After what the world knows about Melanie Black’s bedroom antics, I think Brad Jacobs wouldn’t have been able to walk straight for a week!”

I scowled. “You know, I am capable of sex that isn’t … pornographic.” I grated the word out. “In fact, I quite like sweet, vanilla sex, when it’s with the right person.”

I just hadn’t found that person yet.

Joel sighed. “Of course you are, Stinky. So, what am I buying us for lunch?” He moved his arm back up around my shoulders. Was it wrong that I was disappointed that he wasn’t caressing my hip anymore? Yes, it was.

“I don’t mind, Joel. If you’re paying, then whatever you decide will be fine.”

We ended up getting dumplings from Opera Kitchen and sitting on the steps of the Opera House to eat them. The sun was finally burning away the chill in the air, and I took my coat off and sat in my cardigan, enjoying its warmth on me.

Joel finished his lunch and leaned back against the steps, propping himself up on one elbow and facing me.

“Have you heard anything more from the police?” I asked tentatively. Joel shook his head.

“I’m starting to wonder whether they’ll ever solve them,” I said.

“Wouldn’t be the first time murders went unsolved.”

I turned to face him. “Aren’t you desperate for justice? I mean, it was your dad and your uncle, Joel.”

He shrugged.

“Finding who did it isn’t going to bring either of them back, is it? I don’t know if anything would make me feel better about it. I’m certainly not counting on anything making me feel better anyway.”

Thoughtlessly I reached out and grabbed his hand. His long fingers clasped around mine.

“How are your nightmares?” Joel asked. “They didn’t seem to worry you on our last trip overseas.”

I shrugged. “They come and go. There were a few nights after Ben when it was bad again, but it’s almost like I’m so used to them now that it doesn’t shock me the way it used to. I don’t know. I’ve just learned to live with them.”

Joel threw me a dubious look, but when I didn’t elaborate, he sighed.

“How are you feeling about Wimbledon, Stinky?” he asked. The sudden change of topic caught me slightly off guard, and I paused for a moment to figure out my answer.

“I feel okay. I feel probably about the same as I do going into any tournament. I think my fitness is much better, thanks to you.” I looked down at him, and he grinned back, winking.

“Well, at least I’m doing something right,” he said.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked him, intrigued. His eyes slid away from mine.

“Nothing, forget I said that,” he muttered, but there was absolutely something he wasn’t telling me. I leaned back against the steps until my face was parallel with his.

“I know you don’t ‘owe me your secrets’,” I began, using a fake deep voice to quote his words back to him, “but … I’m here and I can handle the hard stuff, if you want to talk to me.”

He met my eyes, his own dark and … hungry. He stared at me in silence for a long time.

“You have the most beautiful eyes, Mel, like melted chocolate,” he whispered, catching me off guard and making me forget what I’d said in the first place. I blushed and looked away, afraid that if I held his gaze, I wouldn’t be able to hold myself back from him. I sat up swiftly.

Joel sat up beside me. “Come on, training time.”

I nodded without looking at him and he stood, pulling me up by our still joined hands.

I couldn’t voice it, but I’d just realised that whenever I asked him something that he didn’t feel comfortable answering, he turned to seduction to distract me.

I wondered why that was, but I knew that if I asked he’d just do it again, and I wasn’t sure that my resolve could handle it another time today.

Besides, I had the biggest tournament of the year just around the corner. I forcefully pushed all the little intriguing questions about Joel out of my head.

I had to focus on Wimbledon. I wasn’t just playing for myself anymore. I was playing for Natalie. For Natalie who couldn’t realise her dreams because of circumstances out of her control. And for Steve, who’s dream it had been to see me succeed, and that had been taken away from him too.

Like I needed any more pressure to perform.