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I’d seen his grinning face on the podium and I’d felt so light in the chest, like a helium balloon, puffing up with something very much like pride. But at the same time, I’d cracked and broken, my own failure stark in comparison to his success.

But I had also been weirdly angry with him. How could he think of quitting when another race like that could be in his future? Then I’d seen the spider drawn on his arm and the anger had mixed with something tight and worrying. If he’d done it for me, he was in the shit.

Sharing a smile with Colin as we fetched our bags out of the taxi, I made for the doors – and stopped short as soon as I walked inside.

Coming down the travertine steps into the lobby, holding a bunch of wilted flowers, was the person I was trying very hard not to feel anything about.

I failed – miserably – as I caught sight of him in person for the first time in ten weeks.

I remembered – way too much. Each memory was in my skin and in my chest and in my tight throat. He froze mid-step, meeting my gaze.

Damn it, I’d forgotten how hard it was to breathe when Seb looked at me. He was wearing a sports turtleneck that should have looked preppy, but it emphasised his tough, lean torso and reminded me of the feel of him under my fingertips.

He needed a haircut and a shave. The little fluff of beard was a bit ridiculous on him. But I was far too happy to see him, beard or not – redback spider or not. This was bad .

I must have stopped suddenly, because Colin ran into me with an ‘Oof.’ To round off the uneasy moment, Dad appeared with his usual boundless energy.

I tore my eyes from Seb’s wary face and greeted Dad with a hug, letting him steer me towards the reception desk, where someone had hung a poster with our sponsor logos – and a big, stylised redback spider.

It appeared the team had embraced Seb’s little stunt in the face of my misery.

Giving an involuntary shudder, I peered at him again in time to see him wince.

‘Get yourselves settled and have a rest. We can catch up at dinner,’ Dad said. ‘Oh, hi, Frankie. What are you doing with those?’

Seb froze, glancing at the flowers as though he’d forgotten he was holding them and was thinking about shoving them behind his back. ‘They’re too big for the trash bin in my room,’ he said stiltedly.

‘They’re your flowers from the Omloop!’ Dad said in horror. ‘You can’t throw them away. They’ll give you good luck on Saturday. Why else did you bring them?’

‘Oh, hum, you’re right.’ He glanced at me and quickly away again. ‘Oops.’

‘Go on, son. You’ll do fine on Saturday,’ Dad assured him. Tony called everyone ‘son’ but that one got me in the guts.

‘I… want to ask the receptionist something, but you go first,’ Seb said, standing back and gesturing to Colin. My brother gave him a doubtful look, but approached the desk to fill out his forms.

Colin finished his barely legible contribution to Italian bureaucracy and hotel paperwork before I’d even managed to remember my name. I couldn’t think with Seb… existing.

With a quick ‘See you at dinner,’ and half a hug, Colin left me alone with him. I needed to stop pretending I hadn’t known that was Seb’s plan all along.

But I hadn’t expected him to rush at me and say, ‘You have to take the flowers,’ in an urgent voice.

I was so nonplussed I didn’t even ask him to clarify.

‘Look, I know you want to give up and eat cheese, but sabotaging yourself is going a bit far. And if you think I’d want some wilted second-hand flowers from you – any flowers from you,’ I belatedly corrected, ‘then you’ve forgotten what we agreed before Christmas. ’

‘I haven’t forgotten,’ he grumbled. ‘But I realised… I’ve stolen your luck. I have to give it back.’

Okay, that one needed clarification. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘The Omloop,’ he said earnestly. ‘Nothing like that’s ever happened to me before. I know it looked like I drafted Derek for half the race, but I managed to get in behind other people most of the time. The positioning just happened perfectly for me. It was luck .’

‘I hate to break it to you, but it was fitness, drive and a good attitude. Maybe 10 per cent luck. No more.’

‘Even that’s luck you could use,’ he insisted, shaking the flowers at me. They smelled stale and a little slimy.

‘You have to keep them,’ I said firmly. ‘You raced a scorcher, Seb. You gave Derek the start of a lifetime. He’s never going to forget that race and neither should you.’

‘He’s a nice kid—’

I wasn’t finished. I tamped down that hot spike of pride and continued, ‘But you should have ditched him for the chance to win. You know you could have won it, right? You’re there to support the team, but you have to grab the opportunities when they come.’

When he shook his head, I couldn’t hold in all the things I’d felt reading the race report on Saturday – especially when I’d read about that blasted spider.

‘If you’re so serious about quitting, you should be putting everything into your last season!’

‘I have been putting everything in! You know that – or Folklore did.’

‘I don’t mean hours in the saddle training. You were the stronger rider that day. You should have gone for the win. If that redback was for me, then it didn’t work. I would have told you to ditch him and go for it.’

His gaze clouded. ‘There’s no guarantee that I would have won. We had two riders on the podium. I’m sorry if third place wasn’t quite good enough.’

I resisted defending myself, kept silent about that pride that had swollen in my chest seeing the photo of him with that stupid bouquet.

‘Keep the flowers,’ I repeated. ‘And if you’re still feeling lucky, then give it everything this Saturday, knowing that you might do it.’

‘I can’t,’ he said and I wanted to clench my fists and shake him. ‘Because it’s not my luck anyway. It’s yours.’

I crossed my arms and stared at the ceiling. ‘You think having sex was some supernatural ritual where all my luck transferred to you? Was that why you started the thing with the spider? Am I some kind of lucky charm?’

‘No, no! I’m sorry about the spider. I shouldn’t have… I was thinking of you, that’s all. I wish Derek hadn’t copied me, blown it all out of proportion.’

I wished he hadn’t admitted he’d been thinking of me, with that soft hitch in his voice. Now I couldn’t even be mad about that.

He sighed. ‘I hate to see all this stuff happening to you. It should be you up on the podium.’

I scowled, hoping to hide the pricking behind my eyes.

It was as if he could tell a little bit of me had resented his success while I’d seen nothing but failure for months.

I’d been sick and in pain and there he was standing on a podium.

Reason told me the two facts were entirely unrelated, but I’d still resented him, feeling like a horrible person as I did so.

‘It will be me up on the podium soon enough – especially if you can’t get your head in the game. You’ll see on Saturday. It’s not my luck or your luck. It’s just luck – and skill and focus. I love this race and I’m going to attack it.’

He watched me silently for a long moment, a not-quite smile on his face and a light in his eyes. I realised with a start what he was thinking: Good luck for the race. You’re amazing.

If he said it, he couldn’t delete it again, the way he’d deleted that message. If he said it, I was going to kiss him. I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.