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‘You mean as opposed to you.’ Jake didn’t know how he had managed to force the light, wry note into his tone. ‘You just go for female, attractive and up for a good time.’
And Oz had laughed. As though it had been just another version of the conversation they’d been having for years.
‘Nothing wrong with that. As long as we’re all consenting adults and all that.’
‘Yeah, well, I just attended her lecture. Don’t really recall anything else.’
And if it was an outright lie, then Jake had consoled himself with the lie that at least he was the only one who had known.
Still, Oz had eyed him critically.
‘Bull. I don’t buy that. You definitely would have noticed her,’ he had countered. ‘Oh, wait, did you sleep with her and never tell me?’
Jake remembered the way the accusation had riled him. Odd, since it never had done in the past. And even then, as he’d scrabbled about for a deflection, he’d known he was in trouble. Even if he hadn’t realised how deeply.
‘Listen, that lecture was a couple of months after Helen’s death. After Brady.’
At least that bit hadn’t been a lie.
‘Ah, say no more.’ Oz had backed off instantly. ‘How is the champ?’
Jake remembered pausing. Exhaling deeply. He hadn’t liked using Brady to change the conversation like that, but at least there was something of a poetic truth to it. Plus, his nephew catapulting into his life as a seven-year-old orphan was when Oz had proved their friendship of almost a decade was built on more than just nights out after hard operations.
Not every best mate would have been thrilled with a seven-year-old kid bursting in on their bachelor lifestyles, but Oz—the oldest of four brothers—had taken it in his stride, able to relate to Brady in a way Jake himself still hadn’t managed.
His nephew was still a complete mystery to him. And it shamed him, angered him and frustrated him, all at once. He wasn’t a man accustomed to failure. He had never failed. At anything.
But he’d failed at being a brother to Helen and now he was failing at being an uncle, and sole guardian, to Brady.
And he hated himself for it.
‘No idea how he’s going to take to Brazil,’ Jake had begun. Then, ‘No idea how he’s going to like it with only me to talk to.’
‘You’ll cope.’
If only he felt half as confident as Oz.
He could deal with tumours, dying patients, grieving families. But he was at a complete loss when it came to talking to one grieving seven-year-old boy.
‘I suggested going to a water park when I have a free weekend,’ he’d told his mate.
‘And?’
‘He agreed.’ Jake grimaced at the memory just as he had done when recounting it to his friend. ‘But he wasn’t exactly jumping up and down like most seven-year-old kids would.’
‘That’s because Brady isn’t most seven-year-olds.’ Oz had shrugged, like it was obvious. ‘Did you offer to take him into the rainforest? That would have him leaping around like a maniac. In fact, you’d probably get home to find he’d packed both your suitcases. They wouldn’t contain anything you needed, of course, but he’d have his test tubes, his sample pots and his magnifying camera for every insect or arachnid you could possibly find.’
‘I considered it. But you really think taking a young kid into the rainforest is a responsible thing to do? I couldn’t guarantee keeping him safe.’
‘You wouldn’t,’ Oz had scoffed. ‘You and I are city guys through and through. But you can get guided tours, some especially geared up for kids.’
‘How the hell do you know that?’
‘Brady told me.’ Oz had sounded surprised. ‘He didn’t tell you?’
No. He hadn’t. Because the fact was that Brady barely exchanged a word with him, if he didn’t have to. Which told him altogether too much about the kind of absent uncle he’d been—and he didn’t like it.
‘Okay, that’s the next step done.’ Oz had confirmed his focus squarely back on the patient—not that it had ever really left—and Jake was grateful for the change of topic. ‘Just one more and you can finally show me this tumour paint close-up. Man, I’d have killed to get this clinical trial of yours.’
