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Solo heard himself laugh, a hollow sound. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’m not sure if I’ll be ready to return to Sydney. But I have to put Nan and Pop’s farm up for sale at some stage; there’s a manager in there at the moment.”
“You could become a rural GP.”
He shook his head. “I’ve toyed with the idea of hiding out in the bush. But I’ve got ambitions. I’d like to get into neuropsychiatry and I can’t imagine my options to do that would be great in a country town.”
“Maybe not.”
They sat, and she slowly removed her hand. He wanted to grab it back. Wanted to tell her that despite only knowing her for a ridiculously short space of time, she’d somehow buried herself in his heart.
Did she feel the same? Somehow his logical brain doubted it.
“That’s some confession, Dr J,” she said after a moment. “No wonder you were keen to let the PTSD group know their options.”
“Yeah, I let my own stuff take over there a bit.”
“I doubt if a support group would have been enough to help Drew,” she replied thoughtfully. “I’ve been working in mental health long enough to know that sometimes a person needs hospital and meds first to relieve the worst symptoms.”
“What worries me about Drew is how much early trauma there was in his life,” Solo said. “You know, he was this amazing star beaming through the sky, but sooner or later, with that amount of adulation, he was always going to burn up. He had this side to him you could never touch, never reach; a side that made him take risks when he shouldn’t. A darkness. It was eating away underneath that great big smile, the bravado and military swagger. I saw it. But I don’t think anyone else did, not even Nan and Pops.” He shook his head. “I’m so glad Pops didn’t see Drew at his worst. It would have broken him.”
He drained his glass. “Anyway, I’ve talked enough about my shit. Maybe I should let you go.”
“Maybe.” She smiled and glanced at her watch. For another moment neither of them moved. The air prickled.
What he would give to bury himself in her beautiful body again tonight. But then, he sensed the rules of the game would change, and he wasn’t sure Polly was ready for that. Talking had been good, but it had also brought up all the rawness of the past months.
If Polly rejected him now, then where in hell’s name would he go from here? A wave of loneliness engulfed him, and if he hadn’t been sitting down, Solo was sure it would have knocked him right off his feet.
“I really better go,” he said.
He hadn’t meant it so abruptly. It was a defence mechanism. She should know all about them, she had enough of her own.
Obviously not, because he felt her stiffen next to him. Her features drew into a polite, tight mask.
“I’ve an early start tomorrow,” he explained, feeling lame. But he had to protect himself, glue all the bits back into place that were at risk of falling apart. “Pritchard wants me to review a couple of patients with him first thing.”
“Of course.” She bent and picked up her bag. Their evening of intimacy almost felt like it had never happened; it had been a heavy discussion for both of them. Now maybe it was time to beat a retreat. He reminded himself that he didn’t know her, not really, but he appreciated the moments of bright sunshine she’d brought into his life.
“Thanks for listening,” he said. “Where’s your car? I’ll walk you there.”
She laughed. “You sound like Carts with Judith.”
It was a relief to have something else to focus on as they walked. “Does Carts know Judith’s split with her man?”
“God, no, don’t mention it, he’ll be over with flowers and chocolates before you can blink.”
“Maybe that’s exactly what she needs.”
“What Judith needs is a period of mourning. She was with the guy twelve years.”
“That’s hard.”
“How about you?” Her voice was feather-light. “Did you leave someone special behind in Sydney?”
He said quickly, “Nope. No-one special.”
They walked in silence for a minute. Suddenly he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “And you—no-one special in the past?”
“Nope.”
