The tears he’d been holding back nearly escaped when he saw the relief on his mum’s face. Thank goodness he’d come home, because she never would have coped on her own.

‘Calan, promise me you won’t say anything to anyone,’ she begged. ‘I’m scared of what your dad will do if people find out. It’s the shame, you see. He’s never got over the way he was picked on at school when the other kids found out his mother had been in a mental institution.’

‘They’re not called that these days, Mum, they’re—’

‘I don’t care. It’s what your dad wants. Please, I beg you, don’t tell a soul. He’ll get better on his own. Iknowhe will.’

What his mother didn’t appreciate, and neither did Calan, was just how long that would take.

Tara anxiously stared at her mobile phone. Cal had been gone almost seven weeks. Forty-seven days and thirteen hours to be precise, and she had felt every second of it.

She didn’t know what it was, but something was definitely wrong.

It had begun as soon as he’d returned to Inverness. Tara knew long-distance romance wasn’t easy and that it had to be worked on, but it seemed she was the one making all the effort. Cal said the right things when she managed to get him on the phone, and wrote the right things in his messages, but the passion they’d shared in Glasgow was lacking. The promised visit to Inverness hadn’t materialised, and neither had he come to see her. The summer was slipping by but so far, she’d been unable to pin him down.

Tara had a horrible fear Cal didn’t love her anymore, and it was tearing her apart. She wished she had the courage to ask him outright, but she was terrified of the answer. As long as she didn’t know, she could pretend everything was all right.

When her phone finally rang, relief swept through her. ‘Cal, hi. How did the interview go?’

‘I got the job.’

‘Wow, that’s fantastic news! Congratulations! When do you start?’

‘As soon as they’ve obtained references and done the necessary employment checks.’

Tara’s sixth sense prickled. He didn’t sound thrilled. He should be over the moon, considering this job was exactly what he wanted – an assistant estate manager, working for a large manor in the Highlands, not far from his home town. It was perfect. So why wasn’t he more enthusiastic?

‘We should celebrate,’ she said, then lowered her voice, because although she was in her bedroom with the door closed, her mother was downstairs. ‘Properly.’

‘Um, Tara—’

‘Shall I come to you? We could stay in a hotel or a bed and breakfast, and maybe you could show me around the estate. I’d love to see where you’ll be working.Ifwe can drag ourselves away from the bedroom for long enough.’ She uttered a throaty laugh, her pulse quickening as she thought about what she intended to do with him as soon as she got him alone.

‘Tara, I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

‘Oh, OK. Anyway, we’ll probably be too busy for you to show me around, if you know what I mean.’ She giggled. ‘God, I miss you so much. I can’t wait to see you. I love you, Cal.’

She waited for him to tell her he loved her too. But he didn’t. He didn’t say a word.

‘Cal? Are you still there?’

‘Yes.’

Then it struck her. He didn’t say ‘I love you’ back, because hedidn’t.

‘You don’t love me any more, do you?’ she blurted.

She heard a noise that sounded like a sob, but realised Cal was clearing his throat.

‘It’s not that,’ he said, and the heaviness in her heart lifted for a split second. Then he continued, ‘It’s just that we’re so young. Too young for a serious relationship.’

His voice was stilted and staccato; there was no emotion whatsoever, and she stuffed her fist into her mouth to hold back the scream that threatened to break free.

‘My mum and dad agree,’ he said. ‘They think we’re too young to settle down, especially when you’ve got another year of uni left. You need to enjoy it and have fun, not mope around waiting for me. And with my new job, I’m not going to have much free time, and—’ He took a breath, and she heard him exhale slowly. ‘It’s not going to work, Tara. Everyone knows long-distance relationships don’t work.’

He didn’t mean it. Hecouldn’tmean it.

‘You don’twantto make it work,’ she accused, pain stabbing her in the chest. It felt like her heart was being torn from her ribcage and she couldn’t breathe.