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‘I won’t distract you.’
‘You distract me wherever you are.’ He relented suddenly, a warm, lazy smile crawling across his face. ‘I’ll clear out of my surgery and you can sit in there.’
* * *
Working seemed to steady him. A morning spent with other people’s hopes and fears instead of his own, and Sam’s bright smile whenever he entered his surgery to fetch something, almost made Euan believe that his doubts were just night shadows, burned off by the heat of the sun. He’d managed to keep two minor emergencies and an embryonic crisis away from her notice already, and was feeling reasonably pleased with himself.
‘I’m going to fetch some lunch.’ She caught him as he hurried through the reception area. ‘What would you like?’
She was holding a list, obviously intent on making herself useful. Sam never quite seemed to get the message that people might want her for herself. Perhaps he should have been a little clearer when he’d told her all the things he loved about her. Not done it before, during or after their lovemaking, when there might be other things to think about. Made a list, so that she could study it later.
‘I’m fine, thanks. I’ll have something later.’
‘Okay.’ She grinned at him, planting a kiss on his cheek, and then she was gone.
When his phone vibrated in his pocket fifteen minutes later, Euan was already deep in conversation with Ian about the next counselling session, and almost didn’t answer it. But when he saw that it was Sam, he signalled an apology and accepted the call.
‘Sam...?’
‘Come out here quickly. I need help.’
Her tone said it all. Forget about everything else, this was important.
When he flung open the entrance door, she almost toppled inside at his feet, along with the limp body of a man. ‘They dumped him. I saw them...’
‘Okay. Let me see.’ The man had flopped over onto the floor inside the doorway, and Sam scrambled out of the way to allow Euan to get to him.
‘Look at his lips, they’re blue. I don’t think he’s breathing.’ Her voice was steady, calm. Saving the emotions for later.
‘Right...’ Close up the man was little more than a boy, and Euan recognised him as Damien. Dumped by his so-called friends when it had looked as if he was in trouble. Euan had seen it before, but this never failed to shock him.
Ian was dealing with the hubbub inside, clearing everyone back from the reception area. Damien was making gurgling noises as his body tried to breathe despite the drugs in his system and Euan rolled him onto his side, clearing his airways.
‘You know him?’
‘Yep. Heroin user.’
‘What do you need?’
Euan pulled his keys from his pocket. ‘My medical bag. It’s locked in the surgery.’
‘I know.’ She grabbed the keys from his hand and was gone.
He’d barely started resuscitation procedures before Sam was back, pushing his medical bag towards him, pulling the zip open. When he reached for his stethoscope she was already holding it out towards him.
‘Thanks.’ It was little enough recognition of her presence of mind, but that would have to wait until Damien was more responsive. Quickly, Euan examined him, found the supply of nalaxone he always carried with him and prepared the syringe. When he repeated the dose aloud, more out of habit than anything, he was vaguely aware that Sam had pulled a pen from her pocket and written it on her hand.
He heard her gasp when he plunged the needle through Damien’s clothes into his deltoid muscle. Seconds ticked by. Nothing.
He was going to have to try again. Euan repeated the procedure, and waited. Thirty seconds to find out whether some mother was going to lose her son. To stop a young man dying in front of Sam’s eyes.
The effect was almost immediate, and he felt Sam jump back in surprise behind him. A great gasp of air, and Damien jolted into a sitting position, staring wildly around him.
‘You’re okay. You’re at the Driftwood Clinic. You overdosed.’ Orientate him as quickly as possible. Euan left out the bit about having been dumped on the doorstep.
‘What...?’ Damien lashed out, and Euan instinctively threw out a hand to shield Sam, forgetting to duck himself and getting a blow to the jaw for his pains.
‘You’re at the Driftwood Clinic. You overdosed.’ Sam had caught hold of his flailing arm and was struggling to stop Damien from doing any more damage. ‘You’re okay. Let’s get you inside.’
