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Or at least it was the good part of who he was.
Fitz stared at the phone number in his hands. What was he thinking? This hadn’t been a first date. Yes, he dated occasionally, but only women who knew the score from the start. Women who agreed from the start. And he ended it as soon as they began to start talking seriously. And for good reason. He was incapable of loving selflessly. He was damaged, and he hurt people. He’d tried to love when he’d found Janine, but even with her he hadn’t been able to make that part of his soul work again. Hurting someone as lovely as Elle would be inevitable if he was selfish enough to pursue her. Worse, it was dangerous, because he couldn’t shake the feeling that she would challenge every rule he had for himself.
He would never have set aside his meticulously planned schedule of going in early this morning for any other woman. Not for a croissant and a coffee, and not to spend that last hour in their company talking about long-buried emotions.
Ripping the paper from the pad, he screwed it into a tight ball and launched it into the bin, and still he had to force himself to leave Elle’s room without a backward glance.
* * *
The soft sound of the door closing finally woke Elle. She sat up, the bed sheet clutched tightly to her constricting chest as she stared around the empty suite with fresh eyes. One night with Fitz and now the hotel room, which had felt like a pleasant refuge for the last few nights, suddenly felt cold and lonely.
She felt cold and lonely.
Dropping the sheet and sliding out of the bed, Elle shook the notion roughly from her head. Last night had been a one-night stand. But as wonderful, as incredible as it had been, it had just been that. One night. No strings. No regrets.
Padding around the suite, Elle forced herself to concentrate on the mundane. To clean her teeth, to get her shower, to dry her hair. But everything felt different. She felt different. She sat at the dressing-table mirror and stared at her reflection, almost disappointed that she didn’t look different too. How could it be that she looked exactly the same as she had last night when inside her it felt as though she had undergone such a seismic shift?
Part of her expected Fitz to walk back in any moment. After the way they’d connected, how was it possible for him to walk away without a second thought? Almost on autopilot, she ran the brush through her hair and chased it with the hairdryer, trying not to remember with such startling clarity the way Fitz had run his fingers through her hair, telling her how beautiful it was, how beautiful she was, bit by bit restoring every bit of confidence that Stevie’s actions had knocked out of her. Maybe even more.
Elle wasn’t quite sure when or how her brain registered the pen and notepaper, no longer at the back of the table where they’d been her entire stay. Her eyes scanned the room for anything she’d missed but she saw nothing and then, almost instinctively, she glanced over to look into the waste basket. It was empty but for one screwed-up ball of white paper. Her heart slammed inside her chest as she stared, immobile. Slowly, very slowly, she reached out with one trembling hand and retrieved the paper.
Now what?
She willed herself to open it but instead sat, her back ramrod straight, her fingers quivering, gazing at the little white ball, unable to act. It might not say anything. It might say something that would spoil the night before. A tiny voice warned her that she might be better dropping it back in the basket and leaving well alone.
The voice was probably right, but she found she simply couldn’t. With painstaking precision she smoothed the page and scanned the phone number, her fingers tracing the letters of his name almost of their own volition.
Then, abruptly, her brain roared into life and she screwed the paper back up.
It was a relief to know that he had felt that same connection she had, and he’d been as seduced by it as she had. But then he’d recognised it for what it was. A snapshot. A perfect moment in a perfect night.
Last night she’d been crazy and impulsive, like a role an actor played for a movie. But that wasn’t who she was in real life. She wasn’t carefree or daring, she was steadfast and focused, a major, a combat doctor in the British army. However perfect last night had seemed, it had been built on foundations that were little more than illusions, and she couldn’t help the stab of guilt at her part in that.
But what was done was done. Last night had been about getting closure on a relationship that had actually died years ago, not about the start of something new. She wasn’t ready for that, and she didn’t want it. However much Fitz might have confused that for her right now.
Fitz had been right to throw his number away, they would only be chasing after something that didn’t really exist. Bracing herself, Elle hurled the paper back into the basket before she could change her mind again.
Last night had been perfect. Trying to squeeze anything more out of it would only sully the wonderful memories she now had. Just Elle was gone. It was time to get back to Major Gabriella Caplin, army trauma doctor.
Chapter Six
‘THIS IS ARI,’ the nurse, a corporal who’d been there a month or so longer than Elle, informed her as soon as she came on shift for the morning. ‘He’s eight and he has a broken leg with an open wound. This is his first visit to us but the team at the main hospital have been trying to treat him for over a month.’
Elle smiled at the boy, receiving a sweet smile in return as he clung onto his mother’s hand. Her own fears were masked by a tight smile, too. The nearest hospital was across the border, several hours and a treacherous drive away. It was no wonder that even though this hospital had been intended to be just a training ground for local doctors, with only a few cases while the army got the rebuild under way, the locals were ignoring that and bringing their sick and injured here anyway.
Another reason why getting this hospital back up and running quickly was so essential.
‘They’ve been trying to heal the infected wound before they can attempt to set the bone,’ the nurse added.
Elle nodded. Infection really was the enemy out here. Even if they set the bone, it wouldn’t heal unless the infection was gone.
‘He needs a smaller surgical plates-and-pins kit that I don’t have among my army kit,’ Elle assessed quickly. ‘Neither do Razorwire. But our logistics teams are bringing supplies all the time now we’re out here, so I’ll put in a requisition for more instruments appropriate for dealing with children. In the meantime, we do need to get the infection under control.’
‘He can’t tolerate washing the wound without anaesthesia,’ the nurse warned. ‘And we don’t have any here.’
‘No, well, without the custom-sized plates and pins to hold the bones together they’ll be moving and the pain will be incredible for him. We’ll leave the leg in plaster for now and wash the wound as much as Ari can withstand, and always under anaesthetic. As soon as the smaller surgical plates arrive we’ll be able to hold the bones together and we’ll have more options.’
‘Understood,’ the nurse confirmed.
