Читать книгу The Love Islands Collection - Jane Porter - Страница 31

RACHEL WATCHED AS the celebrities rowed towards the island. At least that was what she thought they were trying to do.

‘There’s going to need to be some serious editing,’ said the quiet voice behind her. ‘This is really quite boring.’

She didn’t turn. She didn’t need to. She could actually feel his presence right behind her.

He was right. The journey to the island didn’t seem like much of a journey. They’d been put into two boats and asked to row ashore as if they’d done it from the mainland. The truth was they were only a few hundred yards away. The boat with the sportsman Frank Cairns was already miles in front of the other. On a hot day his patience was obviously at an all-time low and he’d decided to do most of the rowing himself. His fellow celebs arrived onshore with big smiles on their faces.

The second boat arrived filled with long, grumpy faces and instant moans. ‘My agent said I wouldn’t have to do anything like this,’ moaned Dazzle.

‘Your agent lied,’ muttered Pauline Wilding, the politician. ‘Haven’t you learned anything yet?’

The male and female TV presenters appeared, trying to placate the celebrities and keep the atmosphere light. Rachel scanned her eyes over them all. One of the older women was limping already. The trek through the forest to the campsite wouldn’t help.

Darius appeared comfortable. The row didn’t seem to have bothered him in the slightest. It made her feel a little easier. Everywhere she looked she could see potential problems. Scratches and bites that could become infected. Lack of proper nutrition. Contaminants from the horrible toilet the celebrities would need to use. If Darius had asked her if this was a good idea—she would have told him to run a million miles away.

If any patient who’d just finished another dose of chemotherapy had asked if they should come here she would give a resounding no. A relaxing holiday in the Whitsunday islands on a luxury resort was one thing. Being dumped in a jungle to sleep for the next three weeks was another thing entirely.

She’d been lucky. She’d only had to take a year out of her medical career. A long, hard year involving surgery to remove her cancerous kidney; chemotherapy, radiotherapy and annual check-ups for five years.

Darius hadn’t been so lucky. They’d met in the cancer centre, with her fighting renal cancer and him fighting non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. He’d relapsed twice since, each time becoming a little sicker than the last.

What the world didn’t know was that Darius really hadn’t been her lover. He’d been her friend. Her confidant in a place she’d just moved to without any real friends.

Nathan had no idea why she’d left. He’d just lost his parents and realised he needed to be his brother’s guardian for the next two years. She hadn’t mentioned any of the symptoms she’d had—the blood in her urine, the sick feeling and loss of appetite. They’d both been so busy in their first year as junior doctors that she’d barely had time to think much about her symptoms. A simple urine test dipstick on the ward had made her realise she needed to get some professional advice. But then Nathan’s parents had been killed and they were both left stunned.

She’d held him while he’d sobbed and tried to arrange a joint funeral and sort out all the family finances. He’d just lost two people he loved. She’d nearly forgotten about her investigatory renal ultrasound. When her diagnosis had come she couldn’t possibly tell him. She couldn’t put him and Charlie through that. They needed time to recover. Time to find themselves. Charlie needed healthy people around him. Nathan needed to concentrate on getting his life back and learning how to be a parent to his brother.

Neither of them needed the uncertainty of someone with a cancer diagnosis. So she’d done the only thing that seemed right. She’d phoned her mother in Australia and made contact with the local cancer unit over there. Her notes transferred and her treatment planned, she’d bought her plane ticket and packed her case.

Australia had always been on the cards for Nathan and Rachel. They’d applied together. They’d meant to go together. But the death of Nathan’s parents meant all those plans had to be shelved.

It was too risky to stay in England and be treated. Someone, somewhere, would have come across her and word would have got back to Nathan. She didn’t want that. She loved him with her whole heart. He, and Charlie, had been through enough. She knew the risks of renal cell carcinoma. Not everyone survived. She couldn’t take the risk of putting Nathan and Charlie through that.

And she knew Nathan better than he knew himself. At the time of his parents’ death he’d tried so hard to be composed, to keep on top of things. This would have been the final push. Nathan would have stood by her—of that she had absolutely no doubt. No matter how hard she tried to push him away, he would have been by her side every step of the way.

In a way, she hadn’t felt strong enough to be brave for herself and for Nathan too. She had to be selfish. She had to put herself first.

So that was what she’d done. She’d bought her ticket and gone to the ward where Nathan was working to let him know she was leaving.

It was the hardest thing she’d ever done. She’d been flippant, matter-of-fact. A job opportunity had arisen in Australia that was too good to give up. She didn’t want to cause a scene so she hadn’t warned him.

He’d be fine. Charlie would be fine. They’d been together too long. They both needed some space apart. She’d wished him and Charlie well for the future.

Her legs had been shaking as she’d made that final walk down the corridor, knowing that every single word that had come from her mouth had been a lie.

Horrible heartless lies that had hurt the person she loved.

No wonder Nathan couldn’t bear to be around her.

No wonder at all.

Nathan was watching the celebrities crossing the swinging bridge made of rope and planks of wood suspended sixty feet above the jungle canopy. Any minute now …

Right on cue, one of them vomited over the bridge, clinging on for all she was worth. He couldn’t stifle the laugh. He shouldn’t really find it funny. But it was ridiculous. None of them had expressed a fear of heights.

It took nearly an hour for all nine celebrities to cross the bridge. It reminded him of the hysteria he’d witnessed as a student doctor at a school immunisation session when one teenage girl after another had a panic attack in the waiting room. The celebrities’ legs seemed to have turned to jelly and even some of the guys made a meal of it.

Darius wasn’t one of them. Neither was the sportsman. Both walked over the bridge as if they were crossing the street. Darius was beginning to pique Nathan’s curiosity. What had Rachel seen in the guy? And why was he so stoic? He didn’t seem fazed by the jungle—or the potential challenges. It was as if he had so much more to worry about.

There was a yell behind him and he spun around. A few other shouts followed and his legs moved automatically, crashing a path through the jungle towards the noise.

It only took him a few seconds to reach a scene of chaos. Some of the crew had obviously been transporting equipment and a whole pile of barrels that had previously been in a tower were spilled all over the ground.

‘What’s wrong? Is someone hurt?’

‘It’s Jack,’ yelled one of the burlier men as he grabbed hold of one of the barrels and tried to move it aside. ‘He’s caught underneath.’

Nathan didn’t hesitate. First priority—get to the patient. There was no way to see or assess how Jack was right now, so he used his muscle power to grab an end of one of the barrels to try and throw them out of the way. The weight of each of the barrels was extreme. ‘What on earth is in these?’ he grunted.

‘Sand.’

‘What? Why on earth do we have barrels filled with sand?’

The muscles in his arms were starting to burn as he kept pace with the others grabbing barrels and moving them away from the site.

‘For one of the challenges,’ shouted the crew guy.

There was a flash of pink near to him, then a figure shot past him and wriggled in between some of the barrels. ‘Stop!’ came a yell.

He moved forward, crouching down. ‘Rachel, what on earth are you doing?’

He could only see the soles of her boots as she continued to wiggle forward, her slim body and hips pushing sideways through the barrels. None of the rest of the crew could have fitted.

Her voice seemed to echo quietly back to him, reverberating off the curved sides of the barrels. ‘I’ve got him. He’s unconscious. Give me a second.’

The site director appeared next to Nathan, talking incessantly in his ear. Health and Safety … not safe … insurance … liability …

‘Shut up,’ said Nathan sharply, tuning the man out.

‘Rachel. How are you doing in there?’

There was a creak above him and several of the crew ran forward with their hands above their heads. ‘Watch out, Doc. Some of these are going to go.’

Of course. They’d been so close they couldn’t see the bigger picture. They’d been so quick to think about getting to Jack they hadn’t considered the swaying semi-collapsed tower.

Rachel gave a little squeak. ‘He’s breathing. But he’s unconscious,’ she shouted. ‘Definite sign of a head injury with a head lac, and a possible fractured ulna and radius.’

‘Any other injuries?’

‘Give me a sec. I can’t see his legs but I can feel his pelvis and abdomen.’ Nathan held his breath. His brain was trying to calculate how long it would take to medevac someone out of here. A few seconds later she shouted again. ‘His pelvis seems intact and his abdomen is soft. But there’s a few barrels right above us that look ready to come crashing down. Do you have anything we can use to keep us safe?’

Nathan started shouting to the crew. ‘We need something to put over Jack and the doc. What do we have?’

A few members of the crew pointed to some piles of wood. But there was no chance of squeezing those in amongst the barrels. Nathan’s brain was working frantically. Yesterday, he’d read a list of the challenges that the celebrities would do over the next few weeks. It sparked something in his brain. ‘Wait a minute. What about the inflatables for the water challenge later—anyone know where those are?’

He hadn’t even seen them but, from what he could remember about the challenge, they might help.

Ron’s eyes lit up. ‘Yes! They’ll be perfect!’ He turned on his heel and ran towards one of the equipment storage cabins.

Nathan’s black medical bag thumped down beside him. He didn’t even know who’d brought it. He just stuck his hand inside and pulled out a stethoscope. He ran forward and threw the stethoscope inside. ‘Rach, can you sound his chest?’

There was a muffled response. Ron and the others were still running around. The feeling of camaraderie struck him. When something happened, all hands were on deck. He didn’t know most of these people. He could count on one hand how many names he knew. But it didn’t matter; everyone was working towards one purpose and that he could understand. It had been the way of his life for five years in Doctors Without Borders.

Ron stopped next to him, clearly out of breath—he’d need to remember to check him over later. ‘We’ve got them—almost like giant sausages. They’re thin enough when they’re deflated to wiggle them through next to the doc.’

‘How do you inflate them?’ His brain was starting to see where this could go.

‘With a pressure machine.’

‘How quickly can they go up?’

‘Within ten seconds.’

He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘When that inflates will it push all those barrels outwards?’ How on earth could he keep Rachel and Jack safe?

He turned to the technician next to him. His logical brain was trying to calculate how to do this. ‘Put one on either side. They stay in the middle. That way, all the barrels will fall outwards.’ At least he hoped and prayed they would. He glanced at the anxious face next to him. ‘What do you think?’

Ron gave a small nod. ‘I think you’re a genius, Doc. Let’s get to work, guys.’

They moved quickly, trying to get things in position.

Nathan took a deep breath and moved forward. ‘Rach?’

Her voice echoed towards him. She sounded stressed. Climbing in amongst the barrels was probably starting to feel like a bad idea. ‘It’s harder than I thought. Chest clear and inflating on one side, but I can’t get access to the other—he’s lying on that side.’ There was a definite waver in her voice. What he really wanted to do was crawl in beside her. But unless that space got about two foot wider there was no physical possibility of that—not without putting the already teetering pile at further risk.

He signalled to Ron. ‘How soon will you be ready?’

Ron’s face was red and sweating. He gestured towards the other guys. It might look like chaos around them but everyone seemed to know exactly what they were doing. They all had a purpose. ‘Two minutes.’

Nathan crouched down, pushing himself as close to the entrance as he could. ‘Good. Rach, listen to me. We need to get you and Jack out of there. The barrels aren’t safe; they could fall at any minute. But we think we’ve got something that could help.’

‘What is it?’

‘Ron and the guys are going to manoeuvre some inflatables in beside you. They’re rolled up like sausages and should squeeze through the gap. One will be in front of you and Jack, and the other behind. I’ll give you a signal and we’ll flick the switch to inflate them. It’s quick. It only takes ten seconds, and once they inflate they should push all the surrounding barrels outwards. You need to keep your head down. Are you okay with that?’

‘Is there any other option?’ Her voice sounded shaky.

Nathan bit his lip. He was trying to make it sound as if this was perfectly planned when they both knew it wasn’t. ‘This is the quickest and safest option. You’ll be out of there soon.’ He switched back to doctor mode. ‘How’s the patient?’

He tried to shut out all the outside noise and just focus on her. How was she feeling in there? Any minute now the whole pile could come crashing down on top of her. He didn’t even want to give that head space. He couldn’t give that head space. Because it might actually make his hands shake. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t seen her in years. It didn’t matter he had all this pent-up frustration and rage wrapped up in memories of her. This was Rachel.

He didn’t want her to come to any harm. No matter what else went on in this world. He couldn’t push aside his protective impulses towards her. He didn’t dare to think about anything happening to her.

He’d just managed to see her for the first time in eight years. And, no matter how he felt about anything, he wasn’t ready for that to be over.

Her bravado was obviously starting to crash. ‘He’s still unconscious. We’ll be able to assess him better when we get out.’

Ron tapped him on the shoulder, standing in position with the bright yellow, tightly coiled inflatables in the crew’s hands.

‘Rach, hold on. Ron’s ready. Get yourself in position.’

He couldn’t imagine what it must be like in there with the heavy barrels stacked all around. It took a good ten minutes for Ron and the rest of the crew to slowly edge the giant sausage-like inflatables into position and connect them to the air pressure machines.

It was the first time in his life Nathan had ever cursed his muscular frame. He should be the one in there. Not her.

He spoke in a low voice. ‘Are you sure the rest of the barrels will fall outwards? None are going to land on them?’

Ron met his gaze; there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. ‘I’m as sure as you are.’

Nathan glanced towards the crew member standing with his hand on the air pressure machine. ‘Get back,’ he yelled to the rest of the crew members, who scattered like leaves on a blustery day.

Nathan couldn’t help himself. He rushed forward as he signalled to the crew guy. ‘Now, Rach,’ he shouted. ‘Get your head down!’

Strong arms pulled him backwards just as the switches on the machine were thrown. It was only ten seconds. But it felt like so much longer.

The giant sausages started to inflate, pushing everything around them outwards. The barrels teetering at the top started to rumble and fall, cascading like a champagne tower. Nathan couldn’t breathe. It was almost as if everything was happening in slow motion.

One blue barrel after another thudded heavily to the ground, some landing on their side and rolling forwards, gathering momentum as the crew dived out of their path. From beneath the pile the thick yellow PVC was emerging, continuing to throw the blue barrels outwards as the air gathered inside.

Relief. He didn’t even want to consider what might have happened. As the last barrel rolled past, Nathan sprinted towards the yellow PVC, crossing the ground quickly. He could hear the thuds behind him and knew that the rest of the crew were on his heels but it didn’t stop him bounding over the thick inflatable.

Rachel was still crouched behind it; her body over the top of Jack’s, protecting him from any falling debris. Her head was leaning over his, with her hands over the top of her head. The other yellow inflatable had protected them from behind, creating the shelter that Nathan had hoped it would.

Nathan landed beside her with a thud, dropping to his knees and gently touching her arms. ‘Rachel? Are you okay?’ He couldn’t stop the concern lacing his voice.

Her arms were trembling and she lifted her head slowly, licking her dry lips. Her eyes flicked from side to side. ‘It’s done?’

The wave of relief in her eyes was obvious. He had to hold back. He had to really hold back. It would be so easy just to wrap his arms around her and give her a quick hug of comfort and reassurance. But this was Rachel. This was Rachel.

He’d already experienced the briefest contact with her skin and he’d no intention of doing it again. No matter how relieved he was to see she was okay.

His black bag thumped down next to him again—the black bag he should have been carrying in his hand. Something shot through him. His first thought should have been for the patient but it hadn’t been. His first thought had been Rachel.

She was still looking at him. Staring at him with those big brown eyes. As if she were still in shock after what had just happened.

He had to focus. One of them had to do their job.

He grabbed the stethoscope from her hands and bent over to sound Jack’s chest. Now that the barrels were out of the way he could get access quite easily. It only took a few minutes to hear the air entry in each lung. He pulled a pen torch from his back pocket and checked both of Jack’s pupils. Both reacted, although one was slightly sluggish. He grimaced. ‘We really need to get some neuro obs started on this guy.’

His voice seemed to snap Rachel to attention. She jumped to her feet and held out her hands towards the crew members who were handing a stretcher towards them. It only took a few seconds to load Jack onto the stretcher, with plenty of willing hands to help them carry him back to the medical centre.

If this accident had happened in the city Nathan would have a full A & E department at his disposal, with a whole host of other doctors. Here, on this island there was only him and Rachel. She’d always been a good, competent doctor. He hoped that nothing had changed.

He didn’t even glance behind the stretcher as he walked alongside the patient. His brain was spinning furiously, trying to remember where all the emergency equipment was in the medical centre.

Medical centre. It could barely even be called that. It had the basics, but was better designed for general consultations than emergency medicine. He’d expected to treat a few bites and stomach aches. Not a full scale head injury.

The crew members carried Jack inside and helped Nathan slide him across onto one of the trolleys. He did the basics and hooked Jack up to the cardiac monitor and BP cuff; at least they had one of those.

Rachel seemed to have gathered herself and was pulling Jack’s notes from the filing cabinet. ‘No significant medical history,’ she shouted as Nathan pulled an oxygen mask over Jack’s face and quickly inserted an IV cannula.

‘Do we have any Glasgow Coma Scales?’ It was unlikely. The Glasgow Coma Scale was used the world over to monitor unconscious patients. Rachel pulled open a few admin drawers and shook her head, passing him a recording sheet for pulse and BP, then taking a blank sheet of paper and making some quick scribbles.

She walked over and handed it to him as she slid the pen torch from his back pocket as though she did it every day, lifting Jack’s eyelids and checking his pupils.

Nathan glanced at the paper. It was Rachel’s attempt at an impromptu Glasgow Coma Scale. It had captured the basics—eye response, verbal response and motor response. Both of their heads snapped up as the monitor started alarming.

He ran his fingers down Jack’s obviously broken arm. The colour of his fingertips was changing. They were beginning to look a little dusky, meaning that the blood supply was compromised. He swapped the oxygen saturation probe over to the other hand and watched as it came back up to ninety-eight per cent.

He looked up and his gaze meshed with Rachel’s. He didn’t even need to speak; she could see the same things he could.

‘Nathan, do you have keys to the medicine fridge?’ He nodded and tossed them in her direction. For a doctor who didn’t routinely work in emergency medicine, she’d certainly remembered the basics. He finished his assessment of Jack, recording all the responses while she drew up some basic pain medication.

Even though Jack wasn’t awake they were going to have to straighten and splint his broken arm to try and re-establish the blood supply. No doctor could assume an unconscious patient couldn’t feel pain. It didn’t matter that Jack hadn’t responded to the painful stimuli that Nathan had tried as part of the assessment. His breathing wasn’t compromised so they had to administer some general pain relief before they started.

His arm fracture was obvious, with the bones displaced. Thankfully, they hadn’t broken the skin so the risk of infection would be small.

Rachel spun the ampoule she’d just drawn into the syringe around towards Nathan so he could double-check the medicine and the dose. He gave a little nod of his head while she administered it.

He couldn’t help but give a little smile as she positioned herself at Jack’s shoulder. ‘Do you remember how to do this?’

She shook her head. ‘Of course not. Why do you think I’m in the anchor position? The responsibility for the displaced bones and blood supply is yours.’

Of course she was right. It would have been years since she’d been involved in repositioning bones. He’d done it three times in the last month.

It only took a few minutes to reposition the bones and put a splint underneath the arm. The most promising thing was the grunt that came from Jack.

‘Can you patch that head wound?’ he asked. ‘I’m going to arrange to medevac Jack back to the mainland.’

Rachel opened the nearest cupboard and found some antiseptic to clean the wound, some paper stitches and a non-adhesive dressing. She worked quickly while he made the call. She waited until he replaced the receiver and gave him a nervous smile. ‘I haven’t sutured in a while so I’ve left it for the professionals.’

He nodded. It was good she wasn’t trying to do things she wasn’t confident with. She’d just been thrown in at the deep end and coped better than he’d expected. If the shoe was on the other foot and he’d found himself in the middle of a medical unit, how well would he do?

He might be able to diagnose and treat chest infections, some basic cardiac conditions and diagnose a new diabetic but would he really know how to treat any blood disorders or oncology conditions off the top of his head? Absolutely not.

Nathan picked up the phone and dialled through to the emergency number. Thank goodness he’d checked all these yesterday when he arrived. It didn’t matter that Lewis had told him nothing would happen. Working for Doctors Without Borders had taught him to be prepared.

The call was answered straight away and arrangements made for the dispatch of the medevac. ‘It’s coming from Proserpine Airport. We’re in luck; they were already there.’

Her sigh of relief was audible and he joined her back at the trolley. Jack still hadn’t regained consciousness. Nathan took a few more minutes to redo the neuro obs and stimuli.

‘Do you know where the medevac will land?’

He gave a nod of his head. ‘Can you go outside and find Ron? We’ll need some help transporting Jack down to the beach. They’ve probably cleared the landing spot already.’

She disappeared quickly and he sucked in a breath. This was a whole new experience for him. They’d trained together at university and spent their first year working as junior doctors in the same general hospital. But they’d never actually done a shift together. She’d done her six months medical rotation first while he’d done his surgical placement. They’d swapped over six months later.

He’d already known he wanted to specialise in surgery at that point, whereas Rachel had expressed a preference for medicine. They’d applied to the same hospital in Melbourne and been accepted to work there. But he’d been unable to take up his job and had a frantic scramble to find another in England. He’d always assumed that Rachel had just carried on without him. Now he wasn’t so sure.

Ron’s sweaty face appeared at the door. He’d really need to check him over at some point. ‘‘Copter should be here in a few minutes. Once it’s down, there are four guys outside to help you carry the stretcher.’ His brow creased as he glanced at Jack. ‘How is he?’

Nathan gave a little nod. ‘We’ve patched him up as best we could but he’s still unconscious. Hopefully, he’ll wake up soon.’

Ron disappeared and ten minutes later the thwump-thwump of the helicopter could be heard overhead. A wave of familiarity swept over him. For a few seconds he was back in the sand, war all around, his stomach twisting at the thought of what throwing back the medevac door would reveal. But then Rachel rushed back in and the moment vanished. He finished another blood pressure reading and pupil check, then disconnected the monitor.

He pulled the blanket over Jack’s face to protect him from the downdraught and any flying sand but it actually wasn’t quite as bad as he’d expected. Helicopters didn’t faze him at all. He’d spent the best part of five years travelling in them and pulling patients from them. But Rachel looked terrified.

She ducked as they approached the helicopter even though the spinning blades were high above her head. Several of the crew members did the same. The paramedic flung open the door and jumped down.

The handover only took a few seconds. ‘Jack Baker, twenty-four. A few tons of sand-filled barrels landed on him. Suspected broken ulna and radius, blood supply looked compromised so it’s been realigned. Unconscious since the accident. GCS six with recent response to pain. His right pupil has been sluggish. No problems with airway. Breath sounds equal and abdomen soft.’ He handed over the charts he’d made, along with a prescription chart and Jack’s notes. ‘He’s had five of diamorphine.’

The paramedic nodded as he anchored the stretcher inside and started connecting Jack to his equipment. His eyes met Nathan’s. ‘Our control centre will give you a call and keep you updated.’

Nathan pulled the door closed and backed off towards the trees next to the beach. The water rippled as the blades quickened and the helicopter lifted off. After a few minutes the members of the crew started to disperse, mumbling under their breath as they headed back towards the accident site. It would take hours to clean up. It would take even longer to write the report for the insurers.

Nathan started to roll up his khaki shirtsleeves. Report writing could wait. He’d rather be involved in the clean-up and get a better idea of the general set-up. Health and Safety might not be his direct responsibility but, as one of the doctors on the island, he didn’t want to have to deal with something like that again.

Something caught his eye in the foliage next to the beach—a little flash of pink. It wasn’t the tropical flowers that he’d spotted earlier; they’d been yellow, orange and red. This wasn’t fauna. This was man-made.

Rachel was sitting on the edge of the beach, just as it merged with the dark green foliage. Her pink cotton T-shirt stood out. She hadn’t even noticed him, her knees pulled up to her chest and her eyes fixed on the sky above.

He bit his lip. He couldn’t leave her there like that. She wasn’t used to trauma. She wasn’t used to accidents. This was totally out of left field for her.

Part of him wanted to walk in the other direction. The Nathan of eight years ago wanted to leave her sitting there alone. But the Doctors Without Borders medic wouldn’t let him. In his five years he’d never once left a colleague alone after a traumatic incident. He wasn’t about to start now.

His legs moved before his brain started to function. They were on automatic pilot. He didn’t even think. He just plopped down on the sand next to her and put his arm around her shoulders.

‘Okay?’

She didn’t speak, but she didn’t pull away either—not like earlier. Her breathing was shaky and her shoulders gave the slightest quiver beneath his arm. He moved closer, pulling her to him and speaking quietly. ‘You did good, Rach. Emergency medicine doesn’t come easily to some folks. You acted as though it was second nature.’

‘I just acted on instinct.’ Her voice wavered.

‘Did that include when you dived amongst those barrels that could have pounded you to pieces?’ He still couldn’t believe she’d done that. He still couldn’t believe he hadn’t been quick enough to stop her.

Her head sagged onto his shoulder. She stared out at the sea. ‘I don’t know why I did that.’

He smiled. ‘Probably because you’re headstrong, stubborn and don’t listen to anyone around you.’

She gave a little laugh. ‘I guess some things don’t change at all.’

He felt himself tense a little. Part of him didn’t want to offer comfort to her. Part of him didn’t want to reassure and support her. He could feel his body reacting to hers. The familiarity of her underneath his arm, leaning against him as if they still fitted together—even after all this time.

His breath was caught somewhere in his throat. He wanted to tell her that everything changed. Things changed in the blink of an eye and the world you thought you had just slipped through your fingers.

But he couldn’t let the words out.

He’d been down this road himself—acting on instinct in places where it could get you into trouble. But he’d been lucky. He’d always been surrounded by supportive colleagues. Doctors Without Borders was like that.

He didn’t even want to touch on his natural instinct to the car backfiring in Melbourne that ended with him crouched in a ball on the street. Working in war zones did that to you. And it was hard to shake it off.

And, because of that, he took a deep breath and stayed where he was. Sometimes—even for a few minutes—a colleague just needed some support. He’d had colleagues who’d supported him. Now, it was his job to return the favour. No matter what else was going on in his head.

Right now it was just them. Just the two of them for the first time in eight years, sitting together on a beach.

He pushed everything else away. Three weeks on an island with Rachel?

There would be plenty of time for repercussions. But, for now, he would just wait.