Читать книгу The Reunion Of A Lifetime - Fiona Lowe, Charlotte Hawkes - Страница 13

CHAPTER THREE

THE TERRIFYING SCREECH of brakes penetrated Lauren’s terror, followed by the high-pitched sound of shattering glass. Shards rained down on her. A car horn blared. The acrid smell of rubber burned her nostrils. Her body protectively stilled, every sense on alert, trying to decode the situation—ascertain safety. She opened her eyes and found herself looking straight up into Charlie’s cornflower-blue eyes, still dominated by high-alert black. His gaze reflected everything she was feeling—shock, relief and an overwhelming sense of urgency.

‘Okay?’ he asked, his voice trembling.

‘I... Yes. I think so.’

‘Thank God.’ He pushed himself to his feet and grabbed her hand. She found her footing amongst the glass and vaguely noticed a rip in her pants.

People ran towards them. A man she didn’t recognise—his face white with shock—gasped, ‘I thought you two were dead for sure.’

‘We’re fine,’ Charlie said, his voice suddenly loud and commanding. ‘We’re doctors. You call the police and ambulance. We’ll check on the others.’

‘Go to the doctors’ clinic,’ Lauren called out, her voice not quite as steady as Charlie’s. She pointed down the street in the direction of the surgery. ‘Tell Lexie I need the AED and the emergency kits. All of them.’

‘Emergency kits. Got it.’ The man turned and ran.

Lauren quickly assessed the devastation in front of her. The rear of a small four-door sedan was protruding from the café and the jagged remains of the huge glass frontage hung over it like stalactites. Her thoughts took the obvious path—were the car’s occupants alive? Horrifying reality cramped her gut. What about the people inside the café? Had the car hit any of the staff or customers?

Charlie, who was already at the driver’s door, looked up as if reading her thoughts. ‘Triage inside.’

She nodded and ran. Fortunately, the door to the café hadn’t buckled and it opened. Steve, the young barista, and another man stood stunned and rooted to the spot, their horrified gazes fixed on the front of the car. Lauren saw a pair of female legs splayed at a rakish angle and protruding from under the car. As she dropped to her knees, she said firmly, ‘Steve. Find me a torch. You...’ she pointed to the second man ‘...do a head count. Tell me who else is hurt.’

Both snapped to attention. ‘On it.’

A phone with the torch app activated was thrust into Lauren’s hand and she crawled under the car. ‘It’s Lauren,’ she said to the woman, having no idea if she was a local or a tourist. Dead or alive. Conscious or unconscious. ‘I’m a doctor.’

The woman didn’t move or make a sound. Lauren’s hand reached for the patient’s neck, her fingers seeking a carotid pulse. It took her a moment but she finally detected a faint and thready beat. Moving forward on her belly, she gained a few centimetres and somehow managed to check the woman’s pupils. Sluggish response to light.

‘Lauren!’ Charlie’s voice called out to her. ‘What have you got?’

‘Head injury and probable internal bleeding. Her breathing’s shallow but I can’t move or see enough to examine her.’

‘We need to pull her out.’

‘What about spinal injuries? Can’t you move the car back?’

‘Too risky. The front of the building might collapse. Here.’ His hand shoved a neck brace at her and she gave thanks for Lexie’s fast arrival with the emergency packs. ‘Put this on her.’

‘I need light.’

‘Got it.’ Charlie’s face appeared and he directed two phones towards her.

Lying on her side, Lauren’s fingers felt thick and clumsy, and while she fitted the brace she agonised over the compromises that always came with triage—save a life but risk exacerbating an injury in the process. ‘Brace on.’

‘Her name’s Celine. Can you support her head while I pull her legs?’

‘I’ll have to come out and go back in at a different angle.’

‘Do it.’ Charlie said. ‘Fast.’

Feeling like a trainee soldier, she wriggled out on her belly before re-entering so her head and Celine’s were next to each other. ‘Okay, but slowly.’

‘Got it. On my count,’ Charlie commanded. ‘One, two, three.’ The distance Celine needed to be moved wasn’t huge but it felt like miles. Lauren concentrated on keeping the patient’s spine in alignment. ‘And we’re clear,’ Charlie yelled. ‘She’s not breathing.’

Lauren rolled out from under the car as sirens blared. Charlie was already doing CPR and she grabbed the automatic emergency defibrillator. Ripping open the woman’s blouse, she quickly applied the electrode pads. ‘Clear,’ she said loudly. Charlie’s hands moved off Celine’s sternum and he held them up as if a gun were being levelled at him. She pressed the shock button. Celine’s body shuddered. Charlie recommenced CPR, counting to thirty before giving the patient two breaths.

‘Stop CPR. Analysing,’ the electronic voice of the AED instructed.

Charlie lifted his hands ‘Look at her trachea. Grab a cannula.’

‘Tension pneumothorax?’ Lauren handed him a fourteen-gauge needle and swabbed Celine’s upper chest. The pressure would be preventing her heart filling with venous blood. With nothing to pump, the heart was a fibrillating mess.

‘I’m hoping.’ Charlie plunged the needle into the skin between the second rib space in the mid-clavicular line and a faint whoosh of air followed. ‘Now we might be able to get her back.’

‘Clear!’ Lauren said loudly again, before depressing the shock button. Her eyes were glued to the liquid display. Thank, God. ‘Sinus rhythm,’ she said, catching the relief on Charlie’s face. ‘Good call.’

He shrugged. ‘We’re not out of the woods yet. You got this? I’ll check on the others.’

‘Sure.’ She inserted an IV and did another set of observations. Although Celine was breathing and her heart was beating, she was still unconscious. Given the trauma she’d experienced, being out of it could be a good thing but the doctor in Lauren knew her sluggish pupil response was a serious concern.

‘Do you need the helicopter, Lauren?’

She looked up at the familiar voice and smiled at her father, who was standing above her in his blue paramedic’s uniform. ‘Yes. Probable head injury and post cardiac arrest. She needs to go direct to The Edward.’

Ian pulled out his phone and made the call while Lauren helped his partner load Celine into the ambulance for the short trip to the helipad. As the ambulance drove away Lauren returned inside. Charlie was splinting a young girl’s leg and Lexie was handing out blankets. Her mother was sticking bright pink sticky notes on people, describing symptoms and seating them in chairs. The young barista was making coffee.

‘Who’s first?’ Lauren asked, ignoring the dull ache all over her body that was probably soft tissue bruising from colliding with concrete.

‘Jake Lawrence. He’s got a nasty cut to his arm. Do you want to stitch it here or at the surgery?’ Sue asked.

‘Here might be better.’ Lauren saw two police officers talking to an elderly man wrapped in a blanket who she assumed was the driver of the car. ‘There’s coffee and people need to stay together and talk so they can start to process it all.’

The next ninety minutes passed in a blur. Her father and his partner returned and transported the two patients with fractures to the hospital in Surfside. The police interviewed people who felt up to telling their version of events and while Lauren stitched wounds, she listened to people’s outpourings of shock and grief.

‘It came out of nowhere. One minute I was paying for coffee and the next... Crash. I thought a bomb had gone off.’

But amidst their trauma the locals’ concerns were for the tourist who’d taken the brunt of the accident. ‘No one expects to be injured when they’re drinking coffee on holiday. Will she be okay?’

‘I don’t know the full extent of her injuries,’ Lauren answered truthfully. ‘She’s got a struggle ahead.’

When there was no one else needing medical attention, Lauren finally came up for air and for the first time fully took in her surroundings. The line of chairs was now empty as people had either been taken to hospital or collected by family and friends. Police tape surrounded the car and blocked the entrance of the café—the blue and white checks declaring it an investigation scene. Steve was sitting with Sue and Lexie, drinking a well-earned coffee.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and glanced up into Charlie’s face. Today he was clean shaven and he looked both familiar and alien. She gave an internal sigh. The square jaw and bladed cheekbones she’d loved to run her fingers over all those years ago remained the same, but his skin was older, lined with whatever the last decade plus had thrown at him. The laughter lines that bracketed his mouth were still there but more defined, and on the few occasions he’d grinned, the dimples in his cheeks still showed. That had both reassured and hurt her.

What was new were the deep lines around his eyes. She got the impression that laughter was not responsible for all of them. His golden hair was darker than it had been at the age of twenty-three and, unlike the neat, short cut he’d sported back then, his current style was dishevelled but not in the fashionable ‘messy look’ way. Strands fell across his high, intelligent forehead, almost poking into his eyes in a jagged and motley manner. Despite that, the hair wasn’t long enough to hide the dark shadows under his eyes and the general air of dispiritedness that dogged him.

Her heart did an unwelcome flip of longing tinged with distress, although she was uncertain whether it was for him or herself. She stopped herself from reaching up and cupping his cheek, despite wanting his warmth to fill her palm and to tell her that his essence was still in there somewhere. But she didn’t have the right to touch him and, more importantly, she didn’t want to touch him.

Reminiscing was like the turn of the tide. On the surface the water looked wonderful and all the good memories enticed her to wade in and throw herself into the experience. But she knew the same jagged rocks that had caused her to flounder once before still lay in wait, ready to plunge deep into her heart. She had no intention of putting her hand up for that all over again.

Trying to shake off unwanted feelings that begged her to only remember the good times, she dropped her gaze and immediately noticed his shirt was ripped and bloodstained. Cuts and grazes criss-crossed his upper arms. ‘Did Mum or Lexie look at these? You’ve probably got glass embedded in your arm.’

‘Just like you’ve probably got glass in your thigh?’

Surprised, she glanced down and realised blood had congealed around the rip in her running pants. She was suddenly aware of a burning sensation. ‘How crazy. I didn’t feel a thing until now.’

He grimaced. ‘Fight and flight response. Adrenaline hides a multitude of ills until it doesn’t. Does this hurt?’ His fingers ran gently across her lower left arm, lingering on a bump.

She flinched. ‘Ouch.’

‘Exactly.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘Sorry. But I think I inadvertently fractured your ulna when we hit the ground.’

‘Don’t apologise.’ The reality of what had happened was slowly starting to penetrate the protective adrenaline. ‘You saw the car heading for us, didn’t you?’

‘Yeah.’ He brushed his hair away from his eyes. ‘I grabbed you out of instinct. I probably gave you a hell of a fright.’

‘It doesn’t matter. You saved my life. Our lives. Thank you.’ She moved to squeeze his hand and gasped as sharp pain circled her. Her entire body stiffened and she didn’t want to take another breath, knowing it was going to hurt like hell.

‘Lauren?’ His gaze filled with concern. ‘What is it?’

‘I think as well as needing an X-ray for my arm I need one for my ribs.’

‘Right, you two,’ Sue said walking over as if sensing something was up. ‘You’ve both put me off long enough but no more excuses. Lexie and I will look after the clinic and the police are taking the two of you to Surfside to be checked out.’

‘That’s not necessary,’ Charlie said firmly. ‘I’m fine. I can drive Lauren to hospital.’

‘I don’t think so.’ Sue folded her arms across her chest. ‘According to Theo, who saw it all happen, we’re lucky both of you are alive. Let’s not push our luck by letting you get behind the wheel of a car just as shock hits and it has you running off the road.’

A look of incredulity crossed Charlie’s face that someone would question his plans. ‘Ms...um...?’

‘Fuller,’ Sue said with a smile. ‘Sue Fuller. I’m the district nurse and Lauren’s mother.’

‘I’m Charlie Ainsworth. I’m a trauma surgeon with Australia Aid and I deal with life-and-death situations all the time.’

‘I’m sure you do,’ Sue said sympathetically, ‘but today you’re part of the accident too.’ She dropped a blanket over the two of them. ‘Sorry but this is our last one. You’ll have to share. Shane, you can take them now.’

‘Sorry,’ Lauren muttered, not sure if her light-headedness was from the ever-increasing pain or the fact she was sharing a blanket with Charlie.

His right side flanked her left and his heat poured into her. It skimmed along her veins in a heady mix of lust and yet at the same time it was familiar and almost comforting. Red-hot pain and logical resistance duelled with visceral longing. Her vision blurred at the edges. The room started to spin. She tried to stay upright but her legs lost strength and as her knees gave way, she sagged onto him. His arm circled her and she flinched. ‘Ribs.’

‘Hell. Sorry.’ He dropped his arm lower across her hip but still held her.

Despite his gaunt frame, he felt solid and secure. Without being aware of exactly how it happened, her cheek was resting on his chest and the steady and rhythmic beat of his heart sounded reassuringly in her ear. As his hand gently stroked her hair she heard him say quietly, ‘It’s okay, Lauren.’

She closed her eyes.

* * *

While Charlie waited for the electric kettle to boil, he looked around Lauren’s kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers, until he found the mugs and teabags. He had no idea how she took her tea—twelve years ago she hadn’t even drunk tea—so he chose a lemon and ginger teabag, figuring that way he didn’t have to worry about milk.

They’d only just returned from the hospital. It turned out Lauren’s father had been one of the paramedics—yet another thing he’d learned about her today—and Ian had driven them home in the rig. The burly man with salt-and-pepper curls had insisted on taking Lauren to her childhood home but she’d objected. ‘Both you and Mum are at work until four so I may as well stay at my place.’

Ian had muttered something under his breath but had driven her to her sandstone cottage. While Lauren had walked down the short path to the front door, Ian had taken Charlie aside. ‘My daughter’s stubborn. But you know as well as I do she’s groggy after the Endone so she can’t be on her own.’

‘I’ll stay with her,’ Charlie had offered immediately, as much for himself as for Lauren.

Something weird and unsettling had happened to him at the hospital when Lauren had been wheeled off to X-Ray. The entire time she’d been gone, he’d been twitchy and jumpy. Flashes of the damn car coming straight at her—at them—had played in a continuous loop in his head, but the moment the porter had wheeled her back to him, the images had stopped. He’d known his thought process of If I can see her she’s safe had been totally irrational, but if it kept the flashbacks at bay, he’d play along.

‘Thank you.’ Ian had pumped Charlie’s hand generously. ‘And thank you so much for your quick thinking and saving her life. You see a lot in this job and...’ The experienced man’s voice had cracked. ‘Well, I’m not telling you anything you don’t know.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Anyway, it’s probably a good idea for both of you to be together so you can talk about what happened. Debrief. You know, help with the flashbacks, that sort of thing.’

The kettle pinged and Charlie concentrated on making two mugs of tea. He carried them into the living room where Lauren lay on a couch, propped up on a European pillow and with her eyes closed. He took advantage of the opportunity to study her carefully.

All those years ago it had been her wide smile and enormous eyes that had made him look twice at her, but it had been her laughter that had utterly captivated him. Even before Harry’s accident, no one in his family had laughed quite so enthusiastically or seen the humour in obscure things quite like she did. After that tragic day laughter had been silenced, which was why Lauren had breezed into his life like a breath of fresh air. Now he not only longed to hear her laugh, he craved to have her bestow that easy smile on him again. But before either of those things could happen, he had to find a way in, under or around the hectares of reserve she’d thrown up. Apart from the moment she’d slumped against him in the café and her warmth and softness had dived deep inside him, reviving wonderful memories, she’d held herself aloof in a way she’d not done once during their summer together.

‘Tea?’

She opened her eyes and turned their slightly glazed and out-of-focus attention onto him. Surprise lit their depths to a seductive caramel hue. It was clear she’d forgotten he was there. He hoped she’d forgotten she was mad at him.

‘Thank you.’ Her mouth curved up into a sloppy and happy smile.

‘My pleasure.’ Even though he knew her smile was the result of the narcotic painkiller she’d taken, a lightness washed through him. This was the Lauren he remembered. This was the Lauren he wanted to see more of.

‘You look crazy tall standing there,’ she said with a giggle, and lifted her legs. ‘Sit down.’

He could have sat in a chair but the idea of sitting on the couch with her was far too tempting. As his behind hit the couch cushion, her sock-clad feet slammed across his thighs in the exact way they’d done so many times during that long-ago summer. Back then, he’d loved touching her and he’d taken every chance he’d been offered, along with creating opportunities when chance had let him down. Now, presented with this unexpected happenstance, he wasn’t going to let it pass. It was as natural as breathing to slide his hand down her leg and rest it on her ankle, savouring the feel of her smooth skin silky against his palm. She didn’t object.

Silently, they sipped their tea. After a few minutes she raised her arm, staring at the ultralight cast with child-like wonder and slightly constricted pupils. ‘When I was a teenager, I would have killed for a nightstick fracture. I always envied kids with signed casts.’

‘I’ll sign it.’ He set his tea on the side table and pulled a pen out of his pocket.

‘Will you?’ Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks danced with joyful expectation. ‘What a guy!’ Then she laughed; a throaty, husky sound that spun around him like a cocoon, bringing with it memories of hot and sultry summer nights.

Lauren scooted in closer. The action not only brought her arm across his chest for easy access to sign, it also brought her head closer to his. He breathed in deeply, anticipating the scent of apples, but instead he inhaled a complex scent of the tang of the sea, the zip of citrus and a hint of antiseptic. He braced himself for disappointment but it didn’t come. The sweet adolescent scent had belonged to the younger Lauren and its innocent notes no longer suited the striking woman next to him.

Like him, she’d changed—life did that to a person. If he was honest, Harry’s accident had already changed him before he’d met Lauren all those years ago. He knew he’d used their summer together to take a time-out from the all the pain and heartache of the previous nine months. For a few precious weeks he’d pretended that the accident hadn’t happened and his family’s lives hadn’t been brutally upended. He hadn’t expected to fall in love. It had scared the hell out of him.

He was halfway through decoding the change in her scent—what it may or may not signify—when her heat poured into him in like fire water, streaking through his veins and exploding into every cell. The sweet curve of her behind pressed up against the side of his right thigh and the backs of her own thighs now rested on top of his. His heart pounded hard and fast, carrying her heat and scent around him until it pooled in his lap with an odd mix of yearning and urgency.

Stifling a groan, he closed his eyes and silently named the cranial nerves, trying to reverse the effects of his arousal. It didn’t help that Lauren was wriggling against him as if she was trying to find a comfortable position.

You’re killing me. ‘Stop moving.’

She instantly stilled and he realised he’d barked out the command in the same gruff and terse voice he used in the operating theatre when a patient was bleeding out. He cleared his throat. ‘Sorry. It’s just I’m accused of illegible handwriting at the best of times,’ he tried to quip as he struggled to pull himself together. With a trembling hand, he scrawled a message. ‘There you go.’

She pulled her arm back and read out loud, ‘“You’ll be surfing again soon. Charlie.”’ With a sharp intake of breath she moved abruptly back up the couch away from him. When she raised her head, her chestnut brows were drawn down and she was looking straight at him through fully focused eyes. ‘I haven’t surfed in years.’

Stunned surprise broke over him. In the intervening years, whenever he’d thought of her he’d pictured her on her surfboard, eyes shining and racing him to the shore. ‘Why not? You loved it.’

Her nostrils flared and she sucked in her lips as if she was in pain. ‘Are your ribs hurting?’ he asked. ‘Do you need more medication?’

She slowly swung her legs off his, the action stiff and guarded. ‘No. Right now I need to be clear-headed.’

‘Right now you’re better off being pain-free.’

This time her laugh rang out loud and harsh. All the recent softness playing on her face and weaving into her body vanished, replaced by the familiar defensive guard. ‘Tell me, Charles. Why did you break your promise to me?’

Bewildered, he stared at her, seeking clues from her tight expression and her return to the use of his full name. He got nothing. He racked his brain, trying to work out what the hell she was talking about but he came up blank. ‘My promise?’

* * *

Lauren’s heart twisted. He has no idea what I’m talking about. The pain in her ribs and the throbbing in her arm surged back, morphing from a dull ache to sharp, stabbing pain. As the intensity ratcheted up, her logic and reasoning returned. With it came despair. Oh, God, what had she just done? Under the influence of Endone, she’d lost her filter and all her reserve. She’d flirted. She’d snuggled up with Charlie on the couch exactly as she’d done when she’d been eighteen. Only she wasn’t a teenager any more—she was a grown woman who knew how much he’d hurt her.

Why had she asked him about the promise? Especially when he’d just saved her life. Not to mention the most important fact, which was that she did not want to revisit a time that had caused her heartache—a time she’d worked so hard to let go. Hah! Okay, a time she’d thought she’d let go. Obviously, remnants lingered and the speed with which they’d roared back into life when she’d come face to face with Charlie had taken her by surprise. She wished she could hide.

His eyes bored into her. ‘What promise?’

He doesn’t even remember. Old despair sank its teeth into her. More than anything she wanted to stand up and walk away from him, but she didn’t think her legs would hold her. If they gave way again, he’d swoop in and catch her. She didn’t trust herself not to give in and let him cradle her close. When his arms had held her in the café, the unexpected sense of being home had been so strong she hadn’t wanted to leave. The survivor in her knew that emotions like that were dangerous not only to her peace of mind but to her heart—an organ she’d already shored up and repaired more than once.

The only way to protect herself was to restore the distance she’d so carefully placed between them when they’d met at Bide-a-While—the distance drugs had just jettisoned. ‘Ignore me,’ she said briskly. ‘I’m not making any sense. I need to sleep.’

His gaze was too perceptive, roving over her face, seeking clues. ‘I think it’s more likely you’re making absolute sense for once. You’ve been prickly ever since we met at Gran’s. This promise is connected to that, isn’t it?’

She’d forgotten how observant he was and how quick his brain. Perhaps, if she closed her eyes, he might take the hint and leave. Her lids lowered and she shut him out, trying to let sleep claim her.

‘Lauren?’

Damn it. He wasn’t going away. In fact, she’d bet her bottom dollar he would sit there until she told him. She didn’t know which was the worse humiliation; that she’d flirted and snuggled into him or that she’d raised the hurt she’d long associated with him. The answer was simple: it was the latter and now she couldn’t back away from it. A long, bone-weary sigh rumbled out of her. ‘You told me you were coming back.’

‘Coming back?’ Bewilderment skittered across his face. ‘Where? When?’

The fact he had no clue what she was talking about hurt more than her bruised ribs. ‘Do you remember our last night together?’

He was quiet for a moment. ‘I have a strong suspicion I don’t remember it as well as you do. But before I’m accused of something, I want to say with absolute honesty that our summer together was one of the happiest of my life.’

She flinched as his words poured salt on a wound she knew should have healed a very long time ago. She hated that it hadn’t. Hated herself more. ‘Your happiest?’ she scoffed. ‘That’s probably because nothing about that summer was real. We immersed ourselves in each other and hid from the world.’

This time he flinched, as if she’d shot an arrow at him and made a direct hit. ‘Was that so bad? We had a lot of fun.’

‘We did.’ She couldn’t argue that. ‘Then it ended.’

He nodded slowly. ‘Just as we both always knew it would. We were young. We’d agreed...’

The arrow returned, piercing her this time, and she couldn’t hide the hurt. ‘Then why did you move the goalposts at the last minute and tell me that you were only going to London for a year?’ Her voice rose despite her desperate attempts to sound detached. ‘I stupidly waited for you to come back.’

A thousand emotions rose and fell in his eyes until all that was left was guilt and pity. ‘The intern position I had in London was only for one year,’ he said quietly, tugging at his ear. ‘Did I actually say to you, “I’ll be back?”’

She opened her mouth to say a decisive yes but something on his face and in his voice—not regret but perhaps concern—made her hesitate. She rolled her mind back to a time when she’d sat on the enormous picnic rug at the mouth of the cave. She smelt the hot, sweet fat and the tang of salt from their paper-wrapped fish and chips. She heard the raucous squawks of predatory seagulls brawling for prime position, ever hopeful of scoring food. She tasted the syrupy sweetness of passionfruit soda laced with vodka—her favourite beverage that summer—one she’d not tasted since. It had been their last of many picnics together on the beach.

Two weeks previously, they’d spent a day and a night in Melbourne. They’d had dinner in Lygon Street and he’d told her how, when she was studying at uni, this Italian district would be her local shopping strip. He’d shown her all his favourite haunts in and around the uni, making her bubbly with excitement and keen for the next six weeks to pass quickly so she could start her degree. Then he’d taken her shopping and bought her the red stethoscope.

One small purchase—a gift—had changed everything. The moment he’d swung it around her neck and pulled her into him, she’d fallen in love. What had started out as a summer of fun had morphed into friendship and love. Ignoring all the apocryphal stories about doomed holiday romances, Lauren had foolishly allowed herself to weave a fantasy of the two them continuing to be together long after the summer ended. After all, she’d justified, they’d be living in the same city. The university was across the road from the hospital where Charlie had accepted an intern position. Geography wasn’t an issue so why couldn’t they build on what they’d started?

‘Something exciting happened today,’ Charlie said, as she lay with her head in his lap.

She gazed up at him and laughed. ‘The fact you actually beat me into shore?’

He grinned. ‘That was pretty cool, but it’s even better than that.’

Excitement bounced off him, pushing into her and catching her in its web. Had he got the flat he’d applied for? Did it mean he was going to ask her to move in with him? She sat up and caught his hands. ‘Tell me!’

‘I got an offer from London Central. I’m going to do my residency there.’

Her smile froze. All her daydreams shattered, crashing down around her feet in sharp and jagged shards, digging into her skin. ‘London as in London, England?’

‘The very same.’ He laughed, high on the news.

‘Wow.’ The one-syllable word was a struggle to form. ‘That’s...that’s so exciting.’

‘I know, right?’ He pulled her into his lap and kissed her. ‘I can hardly believe it.’

She studied his face. It shone with jubilation and anticipation. The fact this news thrilled him to his marrow eviscerated her. She wasn’t part of this dream of his. ‘I didn’t even know you’d applied,’ she said, forcing herself to sound upbeat.

‘I didn’t tell anyone.’

‘Not even your parents?’ She couldn’t imagine keeping anything that huge from her mum and dad. So how come you’re keeping Charlie a secret?

‘I didn’t want to jinx it,’ he said, suddenly serious. ‘I still can’t believe I got accepted. I’m going to have a year in England.’

She wanted to be happy for him, she truly did, but all she could think was that he was travelling seventeen thousand kilometres away from her and she wouldn’t see him for twelve long months. Her world, which had been so vibrant and colourful only a few minutes before, was suddenly charcoal grey. ‘And after London, then what? You’ll come back?’

He smiled and ran his hands through her hair before cupping her cheeks, tilting back her head and kissing her until sensation vanquished all conscious thought.

The memory slapped Lauren and her breath stalled.

No, that wasn’t right.

Charlie had smiled at her and then said, ‘Yes, I’ll be back.’ She conjured up the memory a second time. She saw the smile but the words didn’t come.

Oh, God.

Had she interpreted his smile as agreement? Had she been so desperate to hear the words that she’d imagined he’d spoken them?

No!

She tried again but she still couldn’t hear them. The idea that she’d replayed this memory over and over in her head until her version of the conversation had become her reality horrified her. Worse still was the thought that her desperation a couple of months later, when darkness had descended over her, had cemented the erroneous belief firmly in place. She knew the only thing that had got her through the heartache and misery after her miscarriage had been her belief that he’d return to her. It had sustained her right up until betrayal had sneaked in and taken its place.

‘Lauren.’ Charlie’s voice was careful and controlled. ‘Please understand this has nothing to do with our amazing summer together. The thing is, I would never have promised you that I’d come back.’

For so long she’d been so certain, so convinced and yet now... ‘How can you be so sure you didn’t say it?’

He sighed and the weariness he wore like a coat settled over him. ‘Because London was my ticket out of Australia. I never had any intention of returning here to live. I still don’t.’

Despite his resigned tone, a hint of harshness lingered in the words. She trawled her dusty and obviously faulty recollections, looking for anything he’d said or done during their summer that had hinted he’d wanted to run from his country of origin. She had plenty of moments to draw on of a laughing and smiling Charlie. Of him daring her to race him both on land and sea, and a thousand clips of his eyes darkening to indigo before he kissed her and tumbled her into bed. Happy, joyous, playful memories with no connection to anything outside their precious bubble. Not one clue that anything was amiss.

The reality was they’d mostly avoided talking about the future because it had meant the end of their time together. ‘You did mention a vague plan of working with your father.’

‘Was I drunk at the time?’ But his lip curled, stealing the joke from the words. He scrubbed his face with his hands before looking back at her. ‘Hurting you was the last thing I wanted to do. I had no idea you thought I was coming back. You never said a thing, never dropped any clues, and if you had, I would have said something. I mean, hell, did we even trade more than one or two emails after I left?’

Five. We traded five. But she swallowed the words, not wanting to sound even more pathetic than she’d already exposed herself to be. Only a fool carried a torch for a man who had left her and his country without a backward glance.

But his question had been rhetorical and he didn’t pause for a reply. ‘I remember you emailing and telling me about your cohort and your lecturers. How you were trying not to sink under the intense workload and asking me for tips.’ He gave her wry smile tinged with guilt. ‘I was barely keeping my head above water then myself. What’s the statute of limitation on apologies?’

‘Twelve years and one month.’

‘I can just sneak it in under the wire, then.’ He picked up her hand. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your emails. I apologise for any and all hurt I’ve caused you.’ His eyes flickered with something she couldn’t read. ‘Seriously, Lauren. I’m truly sorry.’

His sincerity warmed her. ‘Thank you. I appreciate the apology, even though it seems I was the one to get the wrong end of the stick. I’m sorry I didn’t give you a warmer welcome the other day.’

‘I’m just glad I understand why. I hate the idea you were hurt by this misunderstanding.’

She shrugged and withdrew her hand, not offering the real reason why she’d stopped emailing him or waited out the year. Her surprise pregnancy and subsequent miscarriage was information he never needed to know. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said flippantly, changing the subject. ‘I didn’t pine for long. All the guys in my year were intrigued by my first year of aloofness so I had lots of opportunities to make up for lost time.’

He tensed momentarily before giving her a sideways glance. ‘Good to know. So now we’ve got that all sorted, are we friends again?’

Friends. The feelings his touch had sparked in her today were not the platonic sensations experienced by friends. They told her to run fast and far from the suggestion. But she’d already wrongly accused him of breaking a promise and he had saved her life today. That tilted the scales firmly in his direction. Saying no would be childish and churlish but the idea of being friends with him unsettled her. How could she get around this without appearing ungrateful?

Snatches of conversation played in her head. ‘London was my ticket out of Australia.’ ‘I never had any intention of returning.’ ‘I’m a trauma surgeon with Australia Aid.’

‘I haven’t seen my grandson in two years.’

Bingo! Charlie didn’t live in Australia. She almost punched the air in relief. If she extrapolated details, it sounded like he only ever spent a few weeks a year in the country so he’d only be in Horseshoe Bay for a few days. She could easily be friends with him for a few days every second year.

‘Of course,’ she said, smiling. ‘Friends.’

The grin of pleasure that sent his dimples spinning almost made her regret it.