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Ice slid under Rafe’s skin. The blood.
So much blood….
“When can I see her?”
“I’m not sure, but someone will come and get you as soon as we know more. In the meantime, there’s quite a crowd gathering in the waiting room for you. We couldn’t let them all in here, but we can bring in one or two, or if you prefer, you’re well enough to sit out there with them while you wait. Choice is yours.”
“I’ll wait out there,” Rafe said, and got to his feet, testing his balance before putting all of his weight down.
“That’s fine,” Dr Ellison said. “Just don’t wander off, and let triage know if you start feeling dizzy again. Okay?”
“Sure.”
Rafe exited the emergency ward into the waiting room and almost collapsed in relief to see his family, and Mary Melville, filling half the room.
“Rafe!” Abby rushed forward and threw her arms around him, almost knocking him on his arse, then pulled back and apologised when he hissed in pain.
Twins, Charlie and Tobias—his only full-blood siblings—walked either side of him and ushered him into a seat. His father sat down on one side of him and Mary sat on the other. And all of them, every single one of them watched him like a ticking time bomb.
Waiting for him to explode.
“Is she— How is she?” Mary asked quietly. “They’re not telling us anything.”
Rafe took her hand in his and repeated what Dr Ellison had told him.
Then the dam broke.
The professional demeanour he prided himself on, that one that projected quiet confidence to his clients and colleagues alike, crumbled away, exposing his fear and his anguish and every other raw emotion he was too tired to name.
His shoulders slumped and his body shook, wracked by sobs. What if he lost her? What if after getting her back, what if after making her his again, he lost her to something a stupid as a car accident?
“I can’t lose her again. I can’t do this without her.”
“Rafael,” Mary said, her voice tight but stern. “She’s made of tough stuff, our girl. She’ll be all right. You’ll see.”
Rafe turned to the small woman beside him and enveloped her in his arms, clung to her as tightly as he clung to the hope he’d heard in her voice and prayed she was right.
A few minutes later, Scott walked in with a uniformed police officer. Rafe couldn’t hear the exchange between them but it looked official in capacity, and when Scott joined them a moment later, he explained, “The woman who caused the collision is Rachel Weis.”
Rafe’s hands clenched and he immediately regretted it, his sprained wrist throbbing in protest. “That’s Sam Lyndon’s girlfriend,” he spat.
“Yes.”
“Is Sam back too?” he demanded.
“Not according to Ms Weis. She confirmed they flew to Bali together and said they’d planned to travel via bus and small local airlines across Asia to India, then fly via commercial airline to Europe and disappear. But when she woke up after a night of celebratory drinking, Sam was gone. All he left behind was her passport, a non-refundable one-way ticket to Sydney, Australia and fifty bucks Aussie.”
“He ran out on her too?” Oliver said with a snort. “What a charmer.”
“How did she get from Sydney to Melville’s Cross on fifty quid?” Mary asked.
Scott’s features pinched and Rafe knew a look of disgust when he saw one. “She prostituted herself.” Scott popped his jaw. “Gave men blowjobs for cash in bus stop bathrooms.”
Right then Rafe knew Scott’s disgust wasn’t aimed at Rachel, but at Sam for putting her in that position. “Shit. Is she all right?”
“Physically? She has a broken nose and multiple contusions. Mentally? During the initial interview she sounded fine, but the police psychologist is speaking with her now so we’ll have to wait and see.”
“That fucking arsehole.” Wolf.
