LIFE COULD BE so damned unfair.
There were days Sienna Burch hated being a paediatrician, today being one of them. Maybe she should bow out at the end of her contract, go buy a patch of land in a sleepy backwater and grow tomatoes and wear a long, billowy skirt.
Like hell.
While colleagues had warned her she’d been on a hiding to nowhere from the moment young Caleb was admitted with meningitis, she also knew parents trusted her to do all she could for their adored child. She always did that. But they also expected her to win, and unfortunately, that outcome wasn’t achievable every single time.
Another yawn pulled at her. It would be too easy to shuffle further down the SUV’s seat and drop into a deep sleep right here in her garage. Far too effortless. Elbowing the door open, she gathered her handbag and jacket up from the passenger seat before staggering upright.
Bed? Or food? She needed both. And a shower. Food took time because she’d have to clean up afterwards. Unless she went for the easy, not so healthy option of a toasted sandwich and only one pan to rinse out. There was ham and cheese in the fridge. Her tongue lapped her lips. Yes, she did allow herself a few semi-healthy treats. Sighing, she headed for the kitchen, flicked on lights, dropped the blind.
Boom, boom, boom.
‘What the—?’ Music loud enough to wake the dead thumped through the walls. ‘Great. Why tonight?’
The new guy next door nearly always had music of some genre on the go when he was at home, but rarely was it loud and intrusive. In the living room she flicked on more lights. Hopefully he’d notice she was home and cut the volume. That was when she heard laughter and voices. ‘He’s having a party. Wonderful.’ How did that happen when he was new in town on a temporary contract at the Rescue Helicopter base, temporarily replacing her real neighbour for three months?
Not that Sienna had met the guy, only caught a couple of glances of a well-honed body filling out jeans in a way that should have him a modelling contract with the manufacturers. Not her type at all. Oh, yeah, then what is? With her crazy schedule she rarely had civilised hours to have fun in.
The guy seldom seemed to be home either. Not unless he liked permanently closed windows and doors. Another blast of music slapped her. If only he had the place shut up tight tonight. How was she going to sleep with that going on?
Forget toasting a sandwich. Bread and cheese while tugging clothes off and getting under the shower was the way to go. Her bed was beckoning with relentless persistence. Only thing was, her mind couldn’t blank out the anguished cries of Caleb’s parents as they’d switched off life support. From past experience she knew there were no shortcuts getting through this anguish, that it took time and looking after herself—which meant getting adequate sleep.
Thump, thump, thump. And she’d thought the volume was at its max. Sliding right down her bed, covers up to her neck, pillow over her head, Sienna closed her eyes and counted sheep. Not that those dumb animals ever helped her out, but she needed to zone out, find oblivion.
Then her dad piped up in the fog filling her head. Of course he did.
‘Relax. Enjoy life and all it’s got to offer. What’s happened to my girl who loved to track butterflies? Who wanted to grow wings and fly?’
His words taunted her whenever she was too tired to fight them.
‘Not tonight, Dad. Please.’
An hour later, Sienna tossed the pillow and covers aside to swing her legs out of bed. The headache pills she’d taken with her bread were not working as the drums in her head were louder and harsher than ever. Those weren’t the worst beats. Next door there had to be a whole band of drummers competing with each other; the noise level was so unbelievably high. The voices had also increased in volume.
All she wanted was eight hours straight being comatose. Hours where Caleb didn’t feature, where his parents’ sobs didn’t break her heart. Hours in which she couldn’t think about her promise to her father to lighten up some by Christmas. She’d settled here, in this city, bought this apartment for a reason and nothing or no one could be allowed to change it. Yet it seemed everyone was trying to.
Click, click. Her vertebrae pulled her straight. Time to confront her neighbour. Her muscles began to soften. She didn’t do conflict, unless she was fighting for a patient’s life. Yes, well, her patients needed her to get some sleep so she could think straight. Click, click. That music was going to shut down. Now.
* * *
Harry sat on the edge of the deck, a warming bottle of beer swinging from his fingers. Midnight had been and gone. If only he could say the same for his visitors. Unfortunately they all seemed intent on burying their raw grief in loud music and lots of shouting and talking.
A tight-knit group, they’d naturally turned to each other today when they heard the news of the loss of their top pilot after the helicopter he was flying back from having the machine serviced went out of control and hit the ground. The cause of the crash was as yet unknown, and likely to be for weeks, if not months, but the mechanics were on high alert. Bet the crews would be too, come tomorrow.
Lights came on in the apartment next door, then the deck was flooded
