Читать книгу Baby Miracle In The Er - Sue MacKay, Sue MacKay - Страница 9

CHAPTER ONE

‘AHHH!’ TEARS STREAMED DOWN the pregnant woman’s face while fear glared out at paramedic Stephanie Roberts. ‘It can’t be a contraction!’

No, please not that.

Steph pushed her elbows into her sides to control a shudder. The baby was ten weeks too early, according to the garbled comments the woman’s work colleague had uttered as she and Kath, her crew partner, had loaded their patient into the ambulance.

Steph’s heart grew heavy as the woman’s grip on her hand tightened unbearably. ‘Melanie, I want you to breathe deeply and try to stay calm.’

‘Stay calm? When I’m losing my babies again. Tell me how to do that.’ Her voice rose on every word until she was practically screaming. ‘It’s not fair.’

I will do everything I possibly can to prevent that outcome.

Using her free hand to wipe her patient’s forehead, Steph read the heart monitor. All surprisingly normal there.

‘Babies? You’re having twins?’ That would explain the early contraction. Twins often didn’t go the distance in utero, but this early was not good.

‘Yes!’ Melanie huffed. ‘We had IVF.’ Another huff. ‘For the third time.’

That grip on Steph’s hand would break something any second now.

It was nothing compared to the ache in Steph’s heart, though. Having to undergo IVF in the first place came with a load of unbearable pain and stress. Losing the resultant baby or babies would be beyond description. She herself hadn’t got that far, but it had been bad enough—and the consequences even worse. This woman was facing her third round of unbelievable heartbreak if these babies weren’t saved.

Stephanie couldn’t comprehend that—not even with her own experience of being unable to have children.

‘If it’s okay, I’m going to examine you. We need to know what’s going on.’

Maybe there was some miracle floating around that would mean the pain was just a stomach ache. Not that Steph was into miracles. There hadn’t been any going spare when she’d needed one, but Melanie might be luckier.

‘My back’s been aching all morning, my waters broke, and now I’ve had a contraction. I know what that means.’

The woman’s teeth dug so deep into her lip Steph looked for blood. None. Yet.

‘Except I want to deny it so that it isn’t true.’

She doesn’t want me confirming what she suspects. I totally get that. But I’m a paramedic, not a counsellor.

Tugging her hand free, Steph moved along the stretcher and gently lifted her patient’s skirt and lowered her panties. Dilation had begun. She bit back a curse. They weren’t carrying one incubator, let alone two.

Now what? These twins had to be saved. They just had to be. Somehow.

Tucking the clothing back in place, Steph stepped to the front of the ambulance, where Kath was focusing on the road, and spoke quietly and urgently. ‘We haven’t got time to go to Auckland Women’s. Those babies are intent on making an entrance and I doubt they’re going to take their time about it. Head to Auckland Central Hospital as fast as you’re allowed.’

Actually, faster than they were allowed—irresponsible or not. But of course Kath wouldn’t do that. And nor would Steph if she were behind the wheel. Or perhaps she might, knowing what their patient was facing. The speed limit was there for a good reason, but sometimes rules were made to be broken.

‘I’ll let Central ED know the situation.’ Kath reached for the radio handpiece while simultaneously pressing the accelerator a little harder. ‘Sorry I handed you this one.’

Not half as sorry as I am.

‘It’s fine.’ Steph’s heart lurched as she returned to their patient. Life could be so horribly cruel. ‘Has your husband been told what’s happening?’

‘Someone at work rang him. He’s going to meet us at the hospital.’

‘Then we need to let him know where we’re taking you. Where’s your phone?’

‘You just said we’re going to Auckland Central, but my specialist said I have to go to National Women’s if anything goes wrong.’

Those terrified eyes widened, glittering with unshed tears, and Melanie’s chest rose and fell, rose and fell.

‘There isn’t time. I get it.’ The fear became agony. ‘Why do we keep trying? Why are we putting ourselves through this when it never goes right for us? What have I ever done to deserve this? I only want a baby. People have them all the time—easy.’

Steph reached for her hand, let Melanie hold tight; too bad if her metatarsals were fractured. Apart from taking obs and willing the ambulance to go faster there wasn’t much else she could do. She certainly couldn’t soften the truth; because she pretty much knew what her patient was going through.

‘Please don’t do this to yourself.’

As if the woman could stop.

If the outcome wasn’t good, those questions would haunt Melanie for months, even years to come. But Steph would make sure that didn’t happen. There was no room for things going wrong. Not this time—not today.

‘Concentrate on breathing normally so you’re not agitating your babies. I know it’s hard, but we have to try.’

‘You think breathing is going to save my babies?’

The eye-roll didn’t quite come off but hurt still stabbed Steph under the ribs.

Because she couldn’t save the babies if they persisted in coming out into the world before reaching the emergency department. That would take a team of gynaecologists and neonatal specialists and a room full of specialised equipment and—oh, look, none of those were on board right now.

And because... Yeah, well. Because some things were never forgotten. No matter how hard she tried, how much she turned her life upside down and all around, Steph understood some of this woman’s anguish too well.

‘Mark’s going to be devastated.’ Melanie gulped.

Concentrate.

‘Your husband?’ she asked softly around the lump of sadness building in her throat. Sadness for Melanie or herself? Both?

‘Yes.’

‘Want me to call him?’

Someone had to let him know their new destination and that his wife was struggling at the moment. Not that Steph wanted to be the one to break his heart, but it seemed he was a stayer—had hung around after the first time this had happened. And the second. Chances were he’d do the same again. Melanie mightn’t understand but there was some luck on her side.

‘Would you?’ Melanie tapped her screen and handed the phone over, her teeth nibbling at her lip.

Right, get this done. Tap the phone icon, listen to the ringing, ignore the thumping in your chest. Get it finished, then focus on making this ride as comfortable as possible.

Kind of impossible, given the circumstances, but she’d do all she could to—

‘Ahhh!’ Her patient’s hands clenched and strain tightened her face.

‘Don’t push, whatever you do.’

Easy said...

Shoving the phone aside, Steph moved to re-examine the woman’s cervix. And cursed under her breath. These babies had an agenda of their own and no one, especially their mother, was about to deflect them. What if the babies popped out before they arrived at the hospital? What could she do to keep their chances of survival alive?

Think, girl, think.

The CPAP for breathing. Blankets for warmth. She could only hope they’d get to ED before any of that was needed.

Another contraction was tightening Melanie’s belly. ‘I can’t do this.’

‘We’re doing it together.’ Steph reached for a chilled hand, squeezed gently before once again examining her patient—and not liking what she was seeing.

Straightening up, she reached for the nitrous oxide. ‘Suck on that next time you have a contraction.’

‘I’m such a failure.’

‘Hey, don’t beat yourself up. Right now we’ve got two babies to think about and how best to increase their chances. So, are you up to sucking on that gas when required?’

A sharp nod.

Steph didn’t have time for any more chit-chat. The baby that had been crowning when she’d last looked was now about to slip out into the world.

Preparing for the birth by strategically placing the Continuous Positive Airway Pressure instrument nearby, and soft, light blankets ready to receive the precious bundle, she held her breath and watched and waited for the inevitable.

The blue of her gloves was a sharp contrast to the pale skin on Melanie’s thighs. It seemed impersonal to be welcoming a newborn into the world with a pair of vinyl-covered hands, but it was safer, and this little tot would need all the protection from infections and bugs it was humanly possible to achieve. It had to survive, and survive well.

Melanie tensed. ‘Here we go again,’ she forced out through gritted teeth.

‘You’re doing fine.’

No point telling her otherwise. Baby was coming, ready or not. OMG. So tiny and vulnerable. And blue.

Steph worked fast but carefully, knew nothing but that she was trying to save the tiniest boy she’d ever laid eyes upon.

Why hadn’t she trained as a paediatrician instead of a nurse?

A tap on her shoulder didn’t stop her.

‘We’ve got this.’ A male command. ‘Fill me in fast.’

A quick sideways glance showed a man in scrubs. A further look around and she gasped with relief. The ambulance had stopped, the doors were open and emergency staff were crowding in.

‘First baby arrived...’ she glanced at her watch ‘...three minutes ago. There’s another coming. They’re ten weeks early.’

She rattled off details and obs, handing over the baby to another scrubbed-up doctor, who immediately began working on the infant.

Suddenly she was redundant. That relief expanded. Those babies weren’t relying on her and now had a fighting chance. Fingers crossed. She’d given her all, but was it enough?

Squeezing through to the front of the ambulance to avoid the crowd of medical staff at the rear, she hopped out through Kath’s door and stood out of the way, watching as the experts delivered the second baby. At least this wee lad went straight into an incubator. The first baby had already disappeared amidst gowned, masked staff with one purpose in their minds—to save his life.

Steph’s chest ached where her heart thumped. These babies had to make it. No other outcome was acceptable.

‘Can you unload the stretcher for us?’ someone asked.

Instantly Steph was at the back of the ambulance, unlocking the wheels as Kath took the weight to roll the stretcher out.

‘Here we go,’ she warned Melanie, who was looking all hollowed out, her face sunken, her eyes glittering with tears, hands limp on her less rotund stomach.

‘Are they—?’

‘Yes,’ Kath said firmly.

Please, please live, Steph begged the babies. Your mum needs you.

Once Melanie had been transferred to a bed Steph leaned close. ‘I’ll be thinking about you. Hang in there and all the best.’

Then she made herself scarce, not looking around the department where she’d worked until two years ago, not wanting those memories on top of what had gone down today.

Her knees were wobbly. Her head thumped. And, damn it, her eyes were tearing up. Quite the professional.

Around the corner, out of everyone’s way and sight, Stephanie stopped to lean her forehead against the cold wall and clasped her hands together on top of her head, her eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to halt the threatening waterfall.

Her first day working as a paramedic in Auckland and history had slapped her around the head. Her one attempt at IVF five years ago had failed and her husband had refused to try again, saying it was a waste of time when the doctors couldn’t find any reason for her infertility.

No problems in his department, apparently. And no relief for her empty arms that longed to hold her own baby. It had hit her hard today. Much harsher than it had in a while. She guessed that was what happened when she returned home to where it had all happened.

‘Stephanie? Is that you?’

The deep, throaty voice spun her name into unwelcome heated memories and warmed her skin to knock sideways the chill that had taken over in the ambulance.

Michael. Don’t move.

It might be that she’d imagined him. Anything was possible today.

‘Hello,’ he said. ‘Welcome back. You’ve been missed around here.’

The air swirled around her, touching down on the exposed skin of her face, her neck, her hands. A shape lined up beside her. A peek to the right and there was no doubt about it. Her imagination had not been playing games. She wasn’t sure if that was good. Or bad.

Dr Michael Laing’s shoulders and back rested against the wall, those legs that went on for ever were crossed at the ankles and his hands—oh, yeah, she remembered those hands as much as his lips—were jammed into the pockets of his crumpled scrubs. Just as she remembered him—utterly gorgeous, with that never quite styled hair falling over his forehead in soft curls.

When he said, ‘Still as quiet as ever,’ she shivered.

She wasn’t ready for this—not after those babies arriving in her unprepared hands. ‘Hi.’

Now leave me to pull myself together.

Right then her nose ran and she had to sniff.

He dug into a back pocket, held a handkerchief out. ‘Here, use this. I promise it’s clean.’

Did he have to sound exactly the same? Couldn’t he have grown a polyp in his throat? Or permanently lost his voice from too much shouting at the sidelines of a rugby game?

‘Those babies got to you, didn’t they? They would have got me too if I’d been there. Stephanie...’ He paused, gentled his voice. ‘They’re in expert hands, and everyone in PICU will be working their butts off to save them.’

Pushing away from the wall, she eyeballed him. Nearly choked on a sudden inhalation of air. Michael. That open, friendly face, those intense azure eyes still with the thin layer of need he’d hate to be recognised, that tempting mouth...

‘I know. Sorry for being a goof.’

‘Hardly. You’re human.’

His smile was warm. Tentative?

She blew her nose, gave herself breathing space. ‘I’m fine. Really.’

I was until twenty seconds ago. Liar.

She hadn’t been right since she realised her patient’s IVF babies were coming far too early.

His gaze was caring. Oh, how she remembered that caring. It was his middle name.

‘My thoughts exactly. Just having a bit of a kip against the wall. I get it. It’s how I cope with a crisis too.’

Uh-uh. Not so. Her memory was excellent. This man dealt with harrowing issues by striding out for hours, those long legs chewing up kilometre after kilometre as he went over and over whatever was eating him up. Her leg muscles had ached for days after she’d stuck with him for nearly three hours, charging along the city waterfront, listening as he worked his way through grief and anger one particularly dark day.

‘I haven’t suffered a crisis.’

Not much.

So why were her knees feeling like over-oiled hinges?

His mouth quirked in a funny, heart-slowing way. ‘You used to be embarrassingly honest.’

As in, I feel something for you, Michael and would love to continue seeing you, honest?

But unlike that day, when he’d intoned in a flat voice that he wasn’t interested, now there was a friendly warmth in his voice that touched her deeply. Made her feel vulnerable as the longing to tell him everything cascaded through her.

Tightening her knees, lifting her chin, stuffing that need way down in a dark place, she went with a different truth. ‘I’m gutted that I couldn’t stop those babies coming.’ Even though she was not a doctor. ‘They’re far too early.’

His elbow nudged her lightly. ‘No one would’ve been able to do that, Stephanie. Please stop beating yourself up. You don’t deserve it.’

Seemed he cared that she got this right—which, if she wasn’t prudent, could make falling into those eyes too easy, could make leaving today behind for a while effortless.

Some of the frost that had been enveloping her heart for so long melted. ‘That doesn’t stop me wishing I could’ve.’

His eyes lightened as he looked her over with that smile lingering at the corners of his mouth, offering her support when she most definitely hadn’t asked for it. Not that she didn’t want to ask, but laying her heart out for him to see when she was messed up over those babies would not be her greatest move.

Time to go back to base and hopefully a straightforward call-out to someone who thought they were having a heart attack but in reality had indigestion. Whoever it was would get all the care Steph was capable of before being handed over to the ED staff. And at least then she wouldn’t feel as though the ground had been cut from under her.

‘Kath’s full of praise for you. Says you were awesome.’ Michael held her gaze. ‘Hold on to that thought. Stop punishing yourself. It’s not your fault your patient was well on the way to going into full labour by the time you picked her up. There wasn’t another thing you could’ve done.’

Ping. Her lips lifted of their own volition. ‘Back at me, huh?’

Her words of wisdom from years ago weren’t so easy to accept when they came from the opposite direction.

‘Only because you were right.’

He hadn’t thought so at the time—had said she didn’t know what she was talking about, didn’t understand his grief over losing that little boy.

‘Being a paramedic seems harder because the buck stops with us until we get to an emergency department. I never felt alone when I was working in here, or so responsible for someone else.’

So gutted when the situation turned to custard. The odds on one, let alone both those babies surviving were long. A shudder rocked her and she wrapped her arms around herself.

‘Yet even in here you fought tooth and nail for your patients, no matter who else was around.’

His words were a balm, a gentle caress of understanding, and she needed that.

Steph wrestled with the urge to lean in against that expansive chest, tightening her hands into fists, rocking on her toes, flattening her mouth, staying away.

This was Michael—the man she’d worked with, laughed and joked with, shared one intense night with while they’d walked and talked for hours about a wee boy who’d died under his care. A night that had ended in making love for hours and which had led to more nights of wonder until—ping!—it was over. Gone in a quiet conversation about responsibilities and life and not getting involved.

He was one of the reasons she’d scarpered out of town and away from the job she’d loved, leaving her family and friends, renting out her house, to head to Queenstown where she knew no one. One of the reasons. Another of those reasons had also raised its sorry head today. Obviously a day for reliving the past. Great—just when she was starting over. Again.

There’d been a lot of starting over during the last two years. Which might explain this sinking sadness pulling at her. As if she was being tested to see if this was what she really wanted.

Yes, she did. As she had every other move. And every time the excitement and certainty had run its course and left her confused and a little more lost. But this time she was back home where she belonged for good. This was where her family was, her best friend, her past: the good and the ugly. It had to work out or she had no idea what else to do with herself. She had to accept once and for all that she would never have her own baby.

‘Ready to go, Steph?’ Kath appeared in her line of sight.

‘More than.’ She almost choked on the words. The need to be busy doing something—anything—was beginning to suffocate her. ‘Good to see you again, Michael.’

She acknowledged the man beside her, ignored the disappointment filling his eyes, and headed to the ambulance bay without a backward glance. The only safe way to go. She’d got that first meeting out of the way—now she could move forward, box ticked. But first she needed to pull herself together and look the part of a happy woman tearing through life like there was no tomorrow.

* * *

Michael stared after Stephanie, absorbing the protectiveness he’d felt for her the moment he’d laid eyes on her, wanting to banish whatever had caused all that hurting going on, knowing he couldn’t unless he was prepared to let her close.

Stephanie Roberts really was back in town. Rumour had warned him—reality frightened him. He’d been prepared as much as possible to see her, had been ready to say Hi, how’s things? and get on with his day. He hadn’t been expecting the slam of recognition from his body at the sight of her, the intense longing for her to be at his side, with him throughout...everything.

What he wanted now was to wipe away that pain, bring on a smile full of warmth—not that tight I-am-not-hiding-anything grimace that actually hid nothing. Forget staying uninvolved. At least until she was smiling again.

What’s wrong, Steph? What happened to throw you against that wall like you couldn’t stand up by yourself?

He knew her as a strong woman who didn’t buckle easily. Or so he’d believed. Something had undermined that strength today.

His jaw clenched. Tension rippled through his muscles. Did her mouth still tip up higher on the left side when she gave a genuine, big-hearted smile? He’d thought he’d conquered those sweet memories of how he wanted to sing and dance when she smiled. Of how her toffee eyes were easier to read than a toddler’s book. Of how calm he felt around her.

She’d never asked anything of him—except to go to a football match with her which, when interpreted, had meant have a future together. That had scared the pants off him and had had him hauling on the brakes fast. Getting in too deep hadn’t been an option. He hadn’t been able to give her the certainty she deserved, the ‘for ever’ she wanted.

Yet five minutes standing beside her, worrying about what was wrong, and it was as though the mantra he lived by had vamoosed.

He shook his hands, flexed his fingers, worked the tension out of his gut. There hadn’t been a lot of ease between him and Stephanie just now. Nor a lot of smiling. Stephanie’s eyes, laden with sadness—or was that despair?—and the colour draining from her cheeks had been like a rugby tackle around his knees.

Had she made the wrong choice when she’d swapped scrubs for a paramedic’s uniform and that was what was getting to her? No, there was depth to that sadness—close to deep pain. That didn’t come from changing jobs...not even for dedicated Stephanie.

Why aren’t you back here working with me, Stephanie? Us? When did you cut off all that long, thick blonde hair?

‘How’ve you been? Really?’ he asked her shadow as she turned the corner into the ambulance bay.

He’d missed her.

Not that he was admitting it. No way in hell.

A recollection of gremlins haunting her on bad days nagged at him. Shame he couldn’t recall the story of what had gone down in her life before he’d joined the department. He had an aversion to rumours and liked facts. And today the key to all this was there, swinging just out of reach. To catch it he had to follow up on today and track her down for a catch-up.

Or he could wait, since they’d be bumping into each regularly if she was operating out of the local St John base. So, no catch-up needed—which meant he could dodge a bullet.

They’d worked well together, had been friendly, and apart from those intoxicating two weeks had had little to do with each other outside of the ED. Best it was left like that. She’d handed in her notice a fortnight after they’d split and he’d felt uneasy ever since. As though he’d lost the one chance of real happiness he’d had because he hadn’t been prepared to put the past behind him and take a stand.

‘Shouldn’t you be knocking off?’ James, head of the next shift, nudged him. ‘Unless you’ve got nothing better to do than hang around staring after Stephanie Roberts—which surprises me.’

Why? Any man with blood in his veins would be doing the same—which kind of said James had ink in his. Something to be grateful for.

‘I’m on my way.’

Not that he had anything planned for the night. Doing his washing didn’t count, and getting some groceries would take care of all of twenty minutes. Both his close mates were tied up with babies and wives and apparent domestic bliss. Lucky guys.

It’s all yours for the taking if you want it.

He didn’t. One divorce was one too many on his life CV. Besides, there were already more than enough complications going down outside of work that left no time for him to care about anyone else. But...

The word was drawn out. But sometimes he wished he was going home to someone special—someone to love and be loved by with no qualification. Instantly Stephanie came to mind.

Jerking his head up, he snapped at James, ‘Have a busy night. Catch you tomorrow.’

Immediately he felt a heel. If this was what briefly seeing Stephanie did then he couldn’t manage spending any more time with her. He’d be a wreck within hours.

Charging through the department to his locker as if he had the ball and was being chased by the opposition forward pack, he snatched up his jacket and the keys to his motorbike. A spin over the harbour bridge in the chill winter air might cool his brain and freeze Stephanie out. And if it didn’t? Then he was in for a long night.

Once upon a time Monday nights meant drinks with the guys after rugby practice at the clubroom. Now it tended to be pizza delivery and catching up on emails and other scintillating stuff at home. Of course he got an earful of noise from his mates for being the only one still single. Jock and Max could never leave him to get on with his perfectly ordered life. They loved getting in his face about it too much.

The idea of pizza didn’t excite him today. Truth? It had stopped being exciting after the fourth Monday in a row—about two years back. But he wasn’t being picky if the alternative meant cooking something. Though the steak in his fridge would make a tasty change... Nah. Then there’d be dishes to do.

‘I see Steph’s become a paramedic.’

James was still with him, digging into his locker as well, apparently in the mood for talking.

‘Wonder why she’s gone to the other side?’

Michael hoped it wasn’t because she couldn’t work with him any more. But that was more likely his ego getting in the way of common sense. Whatever the reason, he should be glad she hadn’t returned to this department as a nurse, despite his wishing she had.

Working together was not an option when she tipped him off his pedestal too easily.

‘Crewing ambulances isn’t too far removed from the emergency department. Still the same patients, the same urgency and caring.’

The same sadness when something went belly-up. Could it just be that she was insecure about her ability? He wasn’t accepting that. Not from Stephanie Roberts.

‘But she was made to be an ED nurse.’ James looked puzzled. ‘Then again, we haven’t seen her in a while, so who knows what’s gone down in her life recently?’

Nothing awful, he hoped.

‘She’s not the first to take a change in vocation. There are days I wish I’d stuck to my rugby career, though my body is eternally grateful I didn’t.’

His half-sisters hadn’t been so thrilled at the change either, when it had dawned on them that he had less time and money to sort their problems.

‘You were good enough for a full-time career?’

The stunned look on James’s face had Michael laughing—and swallowing an unexpected mouthful of nostalgia.

‘You’d better believe it. I played franchise rugby for over two years. I was out on the wing until a heavy knock resulting in a second moderate concussion had me thinking that if I wanted to be a doctor after the rugby inevitably came to an end then I needed to look out for my brain. So I handed in my boots.’

He hadn’t been able to afford the risk of not having all his faculties in working order when he’d had other responsibilities needing his undivided attention. His half-sisters were his priority—had been since the day his father had extracted his promise to be the man around the place and look after them and their mother when he was thirteen, and from the way things were going, always would be.

Chantelle, in particular, made big enough messes with her life. What she’d have done if anything had happened to him was anyone’s guess. One that he no longer thought about. Instead he’d just accepted his role to be there for both of them continuously, to save them whenever things went wrong—as they did far too often with Chantelle. Thankfully Carly seemed settled in her new life in England. Strange how she’d managed to sort herself out once he hadn’t been there to support her... Their mother had taken off overseas so there was no having her to sort out.

‘No regrets?’

He didn’t need this conversation, but he’d been short with James and wanted to negate anything bad.

‘Some—but there’d have been a lot more if I’d suffered serious head injuries.’ Playing such a physical sport always had its issues. ‘Quitting was the right call.’

At first he’d missed the team camaraderie and the thrill of winning a hard-fought-for game, but he still had his two closest mates and it hadn’t taken him long to get into his stride studying to become a doctor. He’d had plenty of practice helping his half-sisters out of the mischief and chaos they’d got into, so extending that help into a medical career where he dealt with vulnerable people daily—hourly—was natural. Which was why losing a patient despite giving everything he had in the tank always hurt.

Stephanie’s earlier sadness had twisted his gut. She’d know those babies would now be tucked into incubators with monitors attached to their tiny bodies while specialists worked their butts off to save them. Yet he suspected she still needed a shoulder to cry on, or a friend to walk it out with, talk it through with—except, being her, there probably wouldn’t be much talking.

What time did her shift finish?

Leave it alone. Stay uninvolved.

But he owed her. She’d been there for him when Jacob Brown had died in his hands. She’d listened without lecturing, she’d walked beside him as he dashed around the city for hours and had limped for days afterwards. She’d kissed him to the point when he didn’t know where he began and ended. She’d fallen into his bed as eagerly as he’d taken her there.

Definitely stay away.

It had been two years. She wouldn’t be the same woman. Must have another man in her life, in her bed by now.

Anger flared.

Down, boy. You have no rights here. You sent her packing.

If there was someone special he should be pleased. She’d be able to talk out what was bothering her tonight.

The anger only increased, and he felt his hands clenched at his sides, his abs drawn tight.

Go—ride over the bridge, head north for an hour. Turn off the brain. Then order pizza.

Man or no man in her life, Stephanie had family and friends here. He knew that much from the past. She’d be fine. Better off if it wasn’t him hanging around like a dog after a bone. He might make a mistake and touch her again. He still burned with the need to hug her that had floored him the moment he’d first seen her pressed up against the wall as though she could no longer hold herself together.

Hell. He had not given her what she needed. He’d let her go without a word. Without a hug. Without an honest-to-goodness Glad to see you and I want to help you smile. Just like last time.

Wise move for him.

Unkind and unfair on her.