how extensive the damage is.’
Thea nodded grimly, struggling to keep those icy fingers from curling their way around her heart again.
‘I appreciate you’re Air Ambulance,’ the nurse was saying, ‘but how much do you know about spinal injuries post-emergency rescue?’
‘These days it’s mainly assessing, securing and stabilising the patient to ensure no further damage during transport,’ Thea acknowledged. ‘As you say, I don’t usually get involved with the post-emergency rescue care. But before I joined the Air Ambulance I did do some work on the Keimen case.’
It was one of the things which had helped to propel her up the career ladder at such a young age. That and her driving need to block out the pain caused by Ben’s ultimate rejection.
‘The boy whose spinal cord was completely severed and who took his first steps some two years later?’
Thea dipped her head. The work had been cutting edge, and she wasn’t surprised that it had caught the nurse’s attention.
‘I understand they transplanted cells from the part of the brain involved in sending smell signals from the nose to the brain to stimulate the repair of his spinal cord?’
‘That’s right.’ Thea managed a smile despite herself. It had been inspiring to work on that case.
‘I see.’ The nurse nodded. ‘Then you’ll completely understand the difficulty at the moment with Major Abrams. As I said, there’s still too much swelling to get a clear MRI, and unfortunately we do know that the impact of the second IED and the Land Rover crushing him was significant.’
‘So it’s a waiting game,’ Thea stated as calmly as she could.
As unlikely as it sounded, she could only hope that the swelling was protecting his back and that any injury was as low down as possible. Usually, the lower it was, the better. The sacral nerves, perhaps, at worst the lumbar. But the higher the damage—the thoracic nerves or, God forbid, somewhere within the cervical vertebrae—the more chance Ben might be paralysed for life.
Thea squeezed her eyes shut at the thought. Ben was such a physical guy—not just as a soldier but in his personal life, too. She couldn’t imagine how he would react to such news, but she would need to start considering options just in case. He loved sports. All sports. Mountain biking, climbing, kayaking—even base jumping. And their fake honeymoon had been a skiing trip—not that they’d gone after he’d walked out.
Before that failed night Ben had promised to take her, after she’d told him that the highlight of her years in and out of care homes had been a charity group who’d taken a bunch of them to some rundown hostel every year.
Thea shook her head before the memory could get a grip. It was those caring, thoughtful moments from Ben which had meant that the same morning he’d walked out—the morning after they’d made love for the first time—Thea had been screwing up all her courage to suggest that one day they might possibly have more than just a fake marriage. Even if it took time.
Odd, the randomness of the memories which now popped into her head...
‘Yes, it’s a waiting game,’ the nurse confirmed sympathetically.
Thea blinked slowly. Ben didn’t know any of this yet. She stood for a moment, looking down the ward in silence. Life was precious,—so very precious. Why was it that people lost sight of that so easily—including her? Especially her.
Abruptly she stepped forward, as if to steel her body as well as her mind, and headed to the side room. As she got closer she could see the traction which stopped Ben from moving his neck and back, his legs, until they were able to assess the damage. He looked so uncharacteristically fragile that she felt her emotions start to bubble once again.
Ben—who had rejected her not once, but twice, leaving her broken. And yet it seemed entirely fitting that, as she stood by his bedside, across from the nurse as she checked his vitals, Ben chose that moment to wake up.
‘Thea? What are you doing here?’
He recognised her!
She blinked back tears as the nurse swung around to pour a beaker of fresh water and offer a straw for Ben to take a sip. He was clearly still groggy from the sedatives, and his brain was no doubt a mush of memories that he wouldn’t be able to process or even arrange in chronological order. But the fact that he knew who she was an encouraging start. And, despite the painful rasp, the unexpected warmth in his voice at seeing her had caught her off guard. But it had also made her feel more helpless than she’d ever felt before. It was as if the last five years had momentarily been erased.
She wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t.
‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...’ His voice cracked as he struggled to speak. ‘About Daniel...about the wedding...’
‘Shh...don’t talk. Just rest.’ She blinked furiously to stop the unwelcome tears from falling. Tears of fear, but also of relief.
So much for the concern that he might not remember anything. She should have known better—this was Ben Abrams they were dealing with. She should have known he would fight through.
‘I’m sorry about everything...’
His slurred words were barely clear, but she could decipher them.
‘I’ll protect you, Thea. I’ll never leave you again.’
It was absurd that her heart should lurch so unexpectedly. Thea chastised herself. It was the medication talking—she knew that—and even groggy he wasn’t saying the three words she had once longed to hear. Though no longer. There weren’t any words she wanted to hear from him any more.
Caught up in her thoughts, Thea realised too late that Ben was fighting to move his arm and take her hand. His injured arm. As if in slow motion she watched him struggle to raise his head, only for the restraints to stop him. His eyes slid to the damaged limb as it lay obstinately on the bed, refusing to obey the commands his brain was sending out.
This was happening all wrong. She needed to speak to him, explain things to him—not have him find out for himself...especially not like this. In horror, she saw Ben stare at the arm, then down to the other restraints around his pelvis and spine. Finally came the realisation of memory, and it chased long, furious shadows across his bruised face. His eyes met hers one final time.
‘Get her out of here. Now,’ he snarled, his eyes unexpectedly full of accusation and despair and loathing before he abruptly passed out again.
Did he still blame her for that night? That night when she’d barely been able to think straight with grief. That night she’d craved just a few moments of dark oblivion, to forget everything. An oblivion that only crazy, stupid sex with Ben might have momentarily brought.
Emotions rushed to crowd in on her, dense and suffocating. Her initial relief had been swallowed up in pain, anger, frustration, sympathy and misplaced love. They coursed around her body, leaving her weak and nauseous.
Pain gripped her heart. This wasn’t about her—she knew that—and yet she couldn’t help reliving her utter devastation of almost five years earlier. It wasn’t right that this should be the first time she’d seen him since he’d walked out. It wasn’t right that he should be lying there
