fourteen-year-old called Stella—had been on a mechanical heart for five months now. An epic stretch of time for anyone to endure that level of heart failure, let alone a kid. Her family was exhausted from putting on a brave face. Not to mention bearing the weight of constant fear that came with the simple fact that one day Stella’s body simply might not be able to handle being put through the mill any more.
When a donor heart had become available early that morning Jayne and her team had been elated. They’d pulled in every favour in the book to get it to London and into the patient’s chest, where it was now beating away all on its own.
It should have been a landmark moment. For Stella, obviously. But for Jayne, too.
She’d spent over ten years of her life training, studying, and fine-tuning herself to become a paediatric cardiologist—just as her twin sister Jules had imagined she would be one day.
Her heart seized so hard and tight she could hardly breathe. She needed to get out of here.
Her eyes darted to the doors of the operating theatre and once again Sana’s brown eyes appeared in front of her. Looking.
This wasn’t how she’d pictured this moment. Completing a full heart transplant surgery was meant to have been an epically happy day for her. The day that she finally fulfilled her sister’s dream.
As she shrank under Sana’s unblinking gaze she felt her blood begin to chill in her veins. Maybe fulfilling someone else’s destiny didn’t work that way.
If she were Jules she’d be leading a parade to the pub right now. Buying the first round. Toasting her team of fellow surgeons, nurses, nephrologists, immunologists and all the other medical professionals who’d helped make this critical surgery a reality. Daring everyone to join her in a charity skydive.
Not being stared down by Sana.
Okay, fine! Blubbing over a patient wasn’t the done thing in transplant surgery. Which was why there were rules in place. And yet the one rule...the only rule...of her operating theatre when she was about to place one person’s vital organ into another person? Oh, that rule had been well and truly broken.
No. Unnecessary. Details.
A good heart was a good heart. Origin stories weren’t necessary. They made her emotional. There wasn’t a person on earth who was served well by an emotional surgeon.
Committed? Passionate? Intense?
Absolutely. Jayne admitted to all those things. Proudly.
Sure, it was important to know some things about donor organs. Suitability. Viability. Accessibility. Jayne always checked the facts. She also ran a slew of tests. Bloods, X-rays, tomography, MRIs, ultrasounds. Not to mention the coronary angiography and the cardiac catheterisation. She’d done each and every one of them with the exacting scientific precision they had required. And then asked for the flow of information to stop there.
One of the junior surgeons on her team simply hadn’t got it. Just as she’d lifted the heart into her hands he’d blurted out the origin story of the donor.
That was when the first sting of tears had hit.
She’d crushed them, of course.
But it had been tough.
The donor heart had come with strings attached. Strings that went all the way back to the worst day in Jayne’s life. The heart she had successfully transplanted into Stella had belonged to a young woman who’d been out for a bicycle ride on a country lane.
Just like Jules. Jayne’s twin.
Neither young woman had returned home. Neither had heard their sister calling frantically for the car to stop. Neither one had lived to fulfil their destinies. Because both of them had been declared brain-dead at the scene. So if Jayne’s smile wasn’t hitting her eyes she had a damn good reason why.
She heard a page on the intercom and made a dash for the door. ‘Pretty sure that’s Stella’s room.’
Sana started laughing and body-blocked her. ‘Easy there, tiger. That was for Dr Lewis. It’s his wife.’
‘How do you even know that?’ She’d not heard a single word of the page.
Sana’s face softened with one of those warm, all-knowing smiles of hers. ‘She always rings around now, to find out whether or not she should put his supper on.’
‘Ah.’
A twist of envy squeezed the air out of her chest. She could have had that too. Someone who loved her enough to make her supper...cared enough not to burn it...cared if she came home at all...
An image of Sam popped into her head and swiftly she swept it away. No point in swan-diving into ancient history. Even so, she’d bet he wouldn’t be fazed by Sana’s Look. He’d shoot her one of those crooked smiles of his. Give her a wink, a hug, and promise they’d sit and talk all she wanted over a cup of tea and a scone down by the river.
He was one of those men who made time for everyone and the expression on his face when she’d handed him back his ring...
Sana gave Jayne’s arm a gentle squeeze. ‘Go home. Take a bath. Do whatever you do to unwind. Then take some real time off. You’ve dedicated yourself to Stella for months. This is when you let the rest of the team look after her.’
Jayne bristled. ‘No way. Until her body accepts that heart I’m staying.’
The Look reared up, strong and powerful. ‘When’s the last time you took a holiday? And I’m not talking about the two days a year you take off to throw some Christmas presents at your parents, either.’
Ouch.
‘You cried. In surgery.’ Sana rolled her finger. ‘And the reason why was...?’
Jayne tried to turn away, but it was as if Sana’s eyes were pouring invisible cement into her trainers. Lemon juice into her seven-years-old wounds.
Was this what The Sana Look did? Brought things to the surface that you’d tried for years to hide?
Sana blinked. Deliberately.
The tiniest hint of perspiration broke out on Jayne’s forehead.
Suddenly Jayne was beginning to see the advantage of taking a break. A chance to regroup. Get her emotions back under control. She could go to a boot camp. Or a Mastering Your Inner Ninja week.
The flash of another option sent a complication of emotions pouring through her heart. Maybe she could just...go home?
Sana had a point. Everyone’s life needed balance, and her life was one hundred per cent devotion to her job. She had no life outside the hospital. She’d tried clubbing, rock-climbing, wild city breaks in Europe’s party places, and yet, years later it turned out partying till she dropped, terrifying herself with adrenaline-laced activities and fixing someone else’s heart, was never, ever going to bring her sister back.
Which meant...maybe going home to heal some wounds might be a good thing.
Oh.
