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‘But where on earth could I have caught that?’
He was thinking out loud. She could tell straight away. He really didn’t need a response. ‘Do you want me to write you a list, Dr Reid?’
His eyes met hers. There was still an element of confusion in them. His muscles would ache from lying in that bed and his throat would be sore for days. She felt his eyes drift up and down the length of her body.
Her hands went to her hair self-consciously. She hadn’t washed it in three days. She’d barely washed her face. Any trace of make-up was absolutely gone. She’d had to steal some deodorant from one of the nurses on duty and this was her third set of scrubs. Navy blue was certainly not her colour.
‘Grace, how long have you been here?’ He looked around him. ‘How long have I been in here?’
Wow. She must look bad.
She took a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face. ‘Three days.’
‘Three days?’ His voice echoed around the unit and every head turned in the direction of his exclamation.
She put her finger to her lips. ‘Shh. Yes, three days.’
‘But what about the Marburg? What about the patients? Who is looking after them? Are there enough staff? Why aren’t you there?’ The words came tumbling out of his mouth with no pause to take a breath.
There was a tiny sinking feeling of dread in her stomach. His questions were entirely natural. He wanted to make sure everyone was okay. But the last one was hurtful. The last one made her think that he saw her as nothing more than a colleague.
Maybe he hadn’t remembered what had happened between them. Maybe she’d imagined that first twinkle in his eye when he’d woken up.
She bit her lip and tried to answer as methodically as possible. ‘They flew in another team. David and John are still working with Callum. There’s been another adult fatality but no child fatalities from the Marburg virus in the last few days. Two new cases have been identified elsewhere.’ Her voice faltered a little and she wondered if he noticed. She was trying to take into account the fact he’d just woken up after being really ill. She was trying to remember that his body would be exhausted, having fought off meningitis for three days. She really should leave him alone to rest and sleep.
But she couldn’t. She hadn’t had anything to think about these last three days but him. No matter how she examined her feelings about him, or her reactions to him, it all came down the same thing. Donovan had been right. This couldn’t work.
She met his gaze. He still looked pretty dazed. ‘Why do think I’m here, Donovan?’
She left the question hanging in the air between him. It took a few seconds for him to react. Almost as if the little jigsaw pieces were fitting into place in his brain.
His eyes widened. ‘I told Callum. I told him about us.’
‘You did.’
His head started shaking. ‘I had to. I had no idea what was wrong. I just couldn’t think straight. I could have hurt you. I could have infected you with something.’
She gave the slightest shake of her head and pointed to a plastic container of meds on his bedside locker. ‘I’ve been given antibiotic cover.’ It was normal for close contacts of patients with meningitis.
She licked her lips. She’d already made her decision. She knew what she had to do. All she had to do was press Send on the email.
She couldn’t keep working with Donovan. If anything like this happened again, she’d never be able to concentrate on the job they were there to do. It wasn’t fair to the patients and it wasn’t fair to the other staff members. Watching his chest rise and fall for the last three days had brought that home to her.
Being attracted to someone was one thing. Acting on it another. Feeling as if your life would end if theirs did was something else entirely.
She’d cried every time his blood pressure had dropped or temperature rose. Not doctor-like responses, not professional responses, but from-the-heart responses.
He closed his eyes for a second and rested back against his pillows. It was obvious his body was exhausted. It would be another few days until he would be well enough to be discharged. ‘I’m sorry, Grace. I never meant for this to happen. I never meant to put you in harm’s way.’
‘You didn’t. I’m a big girl. I did that myself.’
He opened his eyes. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I kissed you right back.’
She saw the flicker behind his eyes. But it didn’t seem like emotion, it looked like regret.
‘You were right, Donovan. You said people who work together shouldn’t be emotionally involved. And I didn’t get it. I didn’t get it until Callum turned up at my door and told me you’d collapsed and were unconscious.’ Now she’d started she couldn’t stop. ‘I felt as if someone had reached into my chest and squeezed my heart with both hands. I’ve spent the last three days and nights worrying myself sick over you. I’ve even fielded calls from your dogsitter.’ She shook her head.
‘But you were right. I can’t work like this.’ She waved her hand towards him. ‘We can’t work together. It’s no good. I need the chance to see what a fieldwork team is like without complications like this.’
Was she connecting with him? She just couldn’t tell. And the wave of hurt washing over her was getting stronger by the second. She had to get out of there.
He was safe. She knew he was safe. It was time to walk away before she embarrassed herself.
She stood up and reached out and touched his hand. It was a mistake, and she knew that instantly. The zing shot up her arm and she pulled it back to her chest.
‘I’ve requested a transfer to another team. I think, under the circumstances, the director will approve it. I hope you feel better soon.’ Tears were pooling in her eyes, the heat in the room clawing at her chest. She needed to get out of there.
He moved, his hand reaching towards her. Every part of him looked exhausted. The best thing she could do right now was let him rest. He started to speak, ‘Grace, I...’
But she wasn’t listening. She needed to get away. She didn’t want platitudes, she didn’t want to add excuses to the mix. She would chalk this up to experience.
She picked up the bag at her feet and headed to the door. The wash of cool air was an instant relief. The doors in the distance took her to the outside and her feet powered down the corridor.
Out of the hospital. Away from the claustrophobia of the unit. Away from the pain in her heart.
* * *
Donovan’s befuddled brain definitely wasn’t working. He threw back the thin sheet on the bed and tried to move his legs. It was like having the body of an eighty-year-old. They edged towards the side of the bed in slow motion. One of the nurses appeared at his side. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
He pointed in the direction of the door. ‘Going after her.’
The nurse looked at the swinging door and sighed. ‘What did you say to upset her? She’s sat here for the last three days and nights, breaking her heart. If that’s not a sign of a woman in love, I don’t know what is.’
His heated skin felt chilled. Everything about this was going so wrong. When his eyes had flickered open and Grace had been sitting at his side, everything had felt right in the world. Even in the midst of his confusion, as he’d tried to make sense of things around him, knowing Grace was right next to him had grounded him.
She was his anchor. His place in this world. She was the last thing he’d thought about when he’d been ill, and the first person he’d seen when he’d woken up.
But he’d hurt her. Without even trying to. His brain and mouth didn’t seem to want to engage together.
But all of a sudden it was as if a symphony of light appeared around him. ‘It’s what I didn’t say.’
The nurse raised her eyebrows. ‘Say what?’ He tried to stand
and she pushed him back firmly. ‘No way. Tell me what you need to say to her. I’ll catch her in the corridor.’
He shook his head and gave her a rueful smile. ‘I need to tell her that I love her.’
The nurse blinked then waved her finger. ‘Oh, no. That you have to do yourself. Give me a sec.’ She disappeared behind the nurses’ station and came back with a phone in her hand. ‘What’s her number?’
He must have looked blank. ‘Her number. I know she has a mobile phone because she charged it at the station.
‘Oh, right.’ He racked his brain before hesitantly reciting out the digits of what he hoped was Grace’s number. The nurse pressed them in and held the phone to her ear for a second. She held it out towards him. ‘It’s ringing. Go on, then, Dr Reid. Just call me Cupid.’
* * *
The sun was blisteringly hot. Her three-day-old clothes were scrunched up in a plastic bag at her feet and long beyond redemption. She hadn’t given much thought to walking about outside the hospital in scrubs. It was hardly ideal.
The bag on her shoulder gave a little buzz. It took her a second to realise it was her phone. She’d turned the ringer off while she was inside the ICU.
She fumbled around and pulled it out. Unrecognised number. She pressed the button and held it her ear. ‘Dr Grace Barclay.’
‘You didn’t let me finish.’
