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“So, will you come?”
“Mmmm?”
“To Carts’ party?”
“I guess to keep Jude from being gobbled up alive—” He sensed her smiling next to him.
“I’d like it if you did.”
“Does Carts suspect anything? You know, after I rescued him from the stair incident?”
It stung that she still seemed worried. “Nope. He still thinks he dreamed you.”
Now she gave a low, soft laugh. “Okay then, I’ll come.”
Suddenly he was ridiculously chuffed, like he’d achieved something way more than a party invite acceptance. As they exited the kitchen a few heads turned and, as if she remembered she wasn’t supposed to be walking quite so close, Polly veered towards the table at the front of the room with her usually chirpy, “How’s everyone’s week been?”, leaving Solo to arrange the tea stuff on the trestle table.
He sensed a figure sidle up next to him. “Put the Tim Tams away, doc.”
Solo laughed. “Sounds like an order.”
He looked around to see Grant holding a cake box.
“Got something much better here,” Grant said with a grin.
Solo realised the other participants were crowding around. “Open it, doc.” Grant motioned with his head.
Feeling self-conscious, Solo took the box and flicked up the lid.
Chocolate cake met his gaze, covered in thick buttercream icing and the words “Solo, you rock doc” scrawled in confectioners’ icing.
A lump formed at the back of Solo’s throat and his eyes smarted. A grin threatened to hijack his face. He gazed around the assembled group of ten. Everyone was here tonight and that made his heart swell.
“Aww, thanks, guys,” he said, blushing. “I’m really touched.”
“We don’t want you to go, doc.”
“I don’t want to either, but endings, like beginning, are just part of life. You’ve been a great bunch; thanks for opening up and sharing your triumphs and struggles so honestly. I’ve felt honoured to share a little part of the journey to recovery with all of you these past four weeks. Keep up the great work and thanks, I’m—I’m – er—gobsmacked, to be honest.”
As his gaze swept the smiling faces, he caught Polly’s eyes glowing emerald, a smile curving her lips that spoke more than words, and he inhaled sharply. That look wasn’t indifference, it was warm and intense. Like being immersed in a bath full of rose petals.
Crazy.
He composed himself in case the whole PTSD group saw him shooting Polly the look of love in return and said, “The sooner we get started, the sooner we get to have a slice of this amazing cake. Guess it makes up for torturing your tastebuds with my cake that first night. And thanks again, you guys. If I may say so, I think you all rock.”
At the end of the group, as Grant came and shook hands with him, Solo looked into his eyes and saw how the haunted look had eased. There was a new vitality in the gaze that returned his.
“I want to thank you personally, doc. I got in to see my psychiatrist last week and he’s changed my meds. Already I reckon there’s not so many flashbacks.”
“That’s good to hear, Grant.”
“I reckon I can speak for all of us when I say we’ll miss you, Doc Solo.”
Something twanged inside Solo’s chest like someone had snapped a glow stick next to his heart. He put a hand up and pinched the bridge of his nose, shook his head to hide just how touched he was, just how much this meant. That in some small way it made up for the fuck-up with Drew. Even though he knewhe’d done everything right by saving his friend’s life that day, part of him couldn’t let go of wondering if he could have done it better, saved Drew the humiliation of being carted off in an ambulance with flashing cameras in his face.
But these past four weeks, with this bunch of brave people, he felt like he might just have put some of that to rights.
After everyone had left, Polly and Solo stacked the chairs and cleaned up the tiny kitchenette. They locked up the centre and strolled towards their respective vehicles.
