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“My assistant is missing.”
“Missing? He should be there. I spoke to him this morning.”
“No, my usual assistant. Where’s Bronte?”
“Oh.” He could hear Angela’s fingers tapping away at the keyboard. “She requested a leave of absence.”
Acid was rolling through him. Because of him? Because of what he’d done? He gripped the phone receiver tight in his hand.
“Did she give a reason?”
“No.” Then, a pause. “I’m sorry, yes, she did.”
He waited, breath held. “Her father had – yes. Her father had a stroke on Friday. It was all very sudden.”
It was the last thing he’d been expecting. Luca scraped his chair back, dropping the receiver even as he moved back to Bronte’s office.
“What’s your name?” He demanded of Bronte’s replacement.
“Alex.”
“Alex,” Luca nodded. “I need you to find out where Bronte’s father is – I presume in hospital. Send me all the information you have. I’ll be in the car.”
“I – okay, I – no problems.”
“It wasn’t a stroke, Bron,” Ashton said gently, his hand on her knee comforting and familiar. She blinked up at him, her smile weak.
“I know. It was a transient ischemic attack. But to all intents and purposes, it’s like he’s had a stroke.”
“Look how much better he’s doing,” Ashton nudged her shoulder softly. “His voice isn’t slurred today. He’s sitting up. The doctors think he’ll be able to walk in the next day or so, albeit only short distances.”
She bit down on her lip, fear still making the good news impossible to accept. “But after last time –,”
Ashton shook his head. “Last time was a heart arrhythmia. The pacemaker has that under control. I know it seems scary, but these are two very separate, unconnected incidents. And your dad’s going to recover from this, just like he did from that.”
“What if –,”
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Ashton shook his head, pressed a finger to Bronte’s lips. “Don’t do that to yourself.” He scanned her face, and she was so grateful to him in that moment, because he’d been there for her – and her family – when they needed him most. “Don’t worry about the what ifs, because you can’t control them. What if he gets hit by a bus tomorrow? What if you do? There are no guarantees, but the good news is that health conditions that are discovered are manageable – because it means specialists can monitor him. He can live with this. And he will.”
Her smile was watery. “Thanks, Ash. For being here.” She put her head on his shoulder, the intimacy not strange, given how long they’d been together. Their relationship wasn’t romantic, but they’d been friends for a long time. Perhaps they could find a way to be friends again now. Or maybe they already were.
“Where else would I be, huh?”
His hand lifted and stroked her hair. She closed her eyes and for a moment, let herself exist in that small, tiny moment, reassured and content. Worries – for that slice of time – were far away.
He’d recognise Ashton anywhere, even without the stupid shoes and rolled up pants. But seeing his arm around Bronte, her head on his shoulder, was like a thousand volts of electricity pouring into Luca’s frame. He stayed where he was, just inside the doors of the ward, his eyes taking in every detail of the picture. She was pale, her hair a mess, wearing jeans and an over-sized shirt, her eyes closed, her lips tight. She looked beautiful and fragile.
His heart was being wrung tight.
Ashton stroked her dark hair slowly, his lips moving as though he was singing to her, or talking very quietly. He touched her as though he had every right, and she let him. She damn well let him.
Luca swept his eyes shut, but it didn’t help. The careening sense that he’d lost something very, very important bowled right into him.
“What the hell do you mean?”
Fiero’s voice roared down the phone line. He might be the youngest brother but he had no problems asserting his authority whenever he saw fit.
