Exposed

by JC Harroway

  Eden glanced down at her functional outfit, the long-sleeved top perfect for concealing her scarred arm and hand, the only skirt she possessed. Her shoulders tensed, an ache settling under her ribs. So Dan had dated Amelia’s friend Judy. It shouldn’t matter. But if that were the case, why had her stomach taken up residence on the cold stone floor of the gloomy hallway?

  She couldn’t be less like Judy Miller. Feminine, confident and not a platinum hair out of place nor an unwelcome wrinkle in her bias-cut strappy sundress. The kind of woman who had everything she wanted. The kind of woman who demanded perfection in all areas of her life. The kind of woman well suited to Dan—a perfect wife for a doctor.

  But Dan hadn’t dated since Megan’s death. He’d told her that. He’d blamed that on his stilted performance the night they’d spent together in Wales. If he’d dated Judy Miller, he wasn’t as rusty as he’d claimed. He’d blamed the two sex-free years after Megan’s death for his reluctance that night. But if that wasn’t what had halted proceedings, what had? Her thoughts spun, skittering down a darkened path towards self-loathing. No.

  ‘I’m not interested, Judy.’ The conversation sounded like it was wrapping up. Eden spun away from her hiding place behind the door, ducking the other way down the hall to take the long way around to the garden, through the front door. Her chest pounded and her legs wobbled but she made it, undetected.

  Eden reached the outdoor table and deposited the platter of bread with a clatter. Her hand shook as she helped herself to a glass of iced water from a large, condensation-covered jug, the shock of the frigid water sliding down her throat bringing her to her senses. So he’d lied about dating? So she wasn’t the first woman since his wife he’d introduced to his family. So what? She had nothing to prove, and if Dan preferred the Judy Millers of the world, there were plenty to choose from. He was a handsome, successful man. Could have his pick of dates.

  But he’d told Judy he wasn’t interested. End of story.

  The chill from the drink seeped through her as if she were no more substantial than a colander. Hollowness spread, filling her until she was certain she’d disappeared.

  She glanced across the garden, her eyes barely seeing the small groups of people enjoying the first day of summer with a glass of Pimm’s, finding Dan, once more chatting with his nephew and brother-in-law near the BBQ.

  She wasn’t less than Judy Miller. So she’d suffered an injury, one that left her body scarred. But that didn’t effect who she was on the inside—a captain in the British Army, a member of the United Nations Peacekeeping force, a sister, a daughter, an auntie. Not a perfect person, but a good one. A person who finally realised her worth wasn’t bound by her appearance, or her abilities. No one’s was.

  If Dan had baulked from being intimate with her that first time because of revulsion, that was his problem. And he cared for her, right? He hadn’t said the words, but she’d witnessed them in his actions, his stares, his tenderness.

  Eden surveyed the family gathering. Amelia, the glue, held everyone else together, including Dan. So Eden’s own childhood had been unconventional. So she’d never known a maternal figure—her small, male-dominated family was no less sticky. Why, then, did her scalp prickle as if something was missing? Why did the news Dan had other female admirers cut so deeply? He’d sleep in her bed tonight, was hers for the taking, wasn’t he? A niggle germinated in Eden’s mind, growing, unfurling, seeking the light of day. Dan would always love Megan. She’d thought she was okay with that. Perhaps she was. Perhaps she was fooling no one except herself.

  Jet lag. Recent surgery. Too much Pimm’s. Her strange mood was likely due to any number of other things. Dan’s too.

  Shoulders back, Eden survived the remainder of the afternoon, her unease a constant reminder crawling beneath her skin. By the time she and Dan pulled away from the farmhouse, her neck muscles were tight from the tension she wore like a shield.

  As the miles passed, the air inside the car thickened until breathing shifted from second nature to haltingly unnatural. Part of her wanted to lash out, to accuse and blame. But a bigger part, a part that recognised the depth of her feelings for the man sitting beside her, could barely struggle out from beneath the oppressive sadness that cloaked her like the cloying smoke of her nightmares.

  As if he could no longer stand the distance between them emotionally, Dan reached for her hand, connecting them physically. ‘So I booked some studio time.’

  At her silence and blank stare, he continued. ‘For the photo shoot? Megan’s calendar?’ His eyes glowed brighter. ‘I spoke to Steve from Scale. I thought we could ask the Ruby Challenge participants to pose. Donate the proceeds to Scale. Megan would have approved of that.’ He squeezed her numb fingers, his warm and strong.

  Eden stared out of the window at the setting sun, the tumble of her thoughts jostling, vying to be the first spoken aloud.

  Perhaps misinterpreting her silence for approval, Dan continued. ‘It will be good for everyone involved. To see themselves, their injuries in a positive light—inspiring others, doing some good for Scale. Who knows, one of you might end up as the Scale charity poster child. I just hope my portrait skills are sufficient to do you all justice. Not up to Megan’s standards, of course, but—’

  ‘What’s happening here?’

  His brows dipped over his eyes as he glanced sideways at her. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Us. What’s going on between us?’ It wasn’t fair to do this now, as they drove towards home. But her thoughts had finally formed an orderly queue and would no longer sit and wait. ‘I’m not a project, Dan. The Ruby team neither. We’re people, not a collection of clinical signs and symptoms to be ticked off a checklist. Slotted into an orderly collection until we meet a set of arbitrary diagnostic criteria.’

  Colour stained his cheeks, high up over the curve of his cheekbones, and a small part of Eden died. ‘Of course not. I just meant—’

  As if freed at last from a castle dungeon, her words poured out, running free, rudely interrupting in their haste. ‘We can’t be miraculously cured by facing our worst fears, publically confronting our demons, exposing our traumas for … entertainment. You can’t just slap us on the front of a calendar and declare us cured. Job done. Go home and feel good about yourself.’ Her tongue felt too big for mouth—stung by the venom of her vile words?

  ‘Eden, I—’

  Her throat tightened. Somewhere deep inside she acknowledged how judgemental and accusatory her words were but they continued their relentless outpouring regardless. ‘Just because you run around trying to fix us all, while paying tribute to your beloved wife. We’re more than a tribute. I’m more than a tribute.’

  Dan’s jaw muscles bunched and his nostrils flared. Holding back some angry retort?

  She deflated. Her vitriol spent. Her hand found his taut thigh, the muscles bunched under her palm. Voice softer, she said, ‘I get it. I do. It must be hard for you, a doctor, to watch the woman you love die. But you’re not superman and you shouldn’t feel guilty—’

  It was his turn to interrupt, his knuckles white on the steering wheel and his leg rigid under her touch. ‘I don’t feel guilty.’

  ‘You do. Why else would you wait so long before you started dating again, although I understand you didn’t wait as long as you led me to believe.’ Warmth flooded her face. Perhaps that last comment was beneath even her?

  ‘What the fuck does that mean?’

  Confession time. ‘I heard you talking to Judy. It’s okay. I know I behaved badly when we first met—I don’t blame you for—’

  His lips thinned, disappeared. ‘I didn’t date Judy Miller.’ Words bitten out. Jaw clenched. Even now, when he must be furious with her, his patience held.

  ‘It doesn’t matter anyway.’ A sigh escaped, long and final. Judy Miller wasn’t the issue here. She was. She’d woken up at the eleventh hour to realise she now wanted the very thing she couldn’t have. But she should shut up, before she said something she coul
dn’t take back.

  ‘What the hell are you talking about? Look, Judy Miller and I were nothing. I don’t know what you heard, but—’

  ‘Let’s forget about it. I think I must still be jet-lagged or something.’ Eden stared out of the window, relieved to see they’d arrived at her street.

  Wordlessly, Dan parked. Without waiting to see if he’d follow her, Eden stomped to her front door, pulling her phone from her bag, which she then tossed onto the hall table. He followed, quietly closing her door.

  She needed some distance, time to get her thoughts in check, her emotions locked away. Coffee.

  Flicking on the kettle, she leaned back against the bench, her attention focused on the screen of her phone. It was rude. But she needed to calm down, to regroup. She opened her emails. Dan’s footsteps echoed overhead. He must have detoured to the bathroom. Perhaps he needed some time too.

  As the boil of the kettle climbed towards its crescendo, Eden scrolled through endless junk mail with her thumb. The kettle clicked off and she was about to turn and pull two mugs from the cupboard when an email caught her eye. From her CO. Report from Scale in the subject line. Ice moved through Eden’s veins, thick and sluggish. With her heart thudding, she opened the message.

  … We understand from Scale you have recently completed their Ruby Challenge … While you are to be commended on the physical endurance required for such a challenge … The Scale medical team feels you would benefit from a period of specific counselling and recommendations have been made to the following …

  ‘Everything okay?’ She hadn’t noticed Dan entering the room, hands in pockets, shoulders high, wary.

  Her gaze flew to his, fury compounding the inadequacies and doubts that had dogged her all day. ‘You … you failed me?’

  His brows dipped, confusion clouding his eyes.

  ‘The challenge—I failed the medical.’ The words stung her mouth.

  His surprise dropped a notch or two. This wasn’t news. ‘Eden, I didn’t—you requested Emily.’

  ‘I don’t believe this. You knew.’ A red haze settled, and she wanted to crawl from her skin.

  Dan stepped forward, closer, his hand reaching for her, but she spun away, shrugging him off.

  ‘I suspected.’ He gripped the back of his neck with one hand. ‘Emily wouldn’t discuss this with me—it’s unethical, unprofessional as I’m not your doctor. You wanted that, remember.’

  Some of the fight drained away. She had wanted that. Because she was a mess. Even more of one now. Her sole goal had been to get back to work and now … that was even further from her grasp. And she was in love with a man who was so emotionally unavailable, he may as well live on the moon.

  ‘Look, I tried to help—’

  ‘Of course you did. You thought you could fix me by featuring me on your stupid calendar. You thought you could fix me to appease your own guilt over Megan. Don’t you get it? You can’t fix me, and I deserve more than being part of a memorial to her.’

  Dan’s glare turned incredulous, a look of pain crossing his rigidly set features. She’d prefer it if he yelled. But that wasn’t Dan’s style. Her words had done their damage, just like the colonel had taught her they would. But it was too late now. She would never be the sort of woman Megan had been. Would never be the sort of woman he needed. And she wouldn’t be his pity project.

  ‘You know, Dan. Perhaps I do need more counselling. But perhaps you do too.’ A ball of scalding air trapped in her throat, and she swallowed convulsively, trying to dislodge it. Her voice, when it emerged again, scratched at her raw vocal cords like a scream, despite being little more than a whisper. ‘I think you should leave.’ She forced her chin forward. She didn’t need him. She still had a lot of work to do on herself. And so did he.

  A myriad of emotions flitted across his handsome features. But Eden hardened her heart to them. It was time to put herself first. To accept the counselling and focus on returning to work.

  Dan didn’t comment.

  Tugging his car keys from the pocket of his jeans, he turned and left, the echo of the soft snick of her front door closing the only sign he’d been there at all.

  Chapter 15

  The Scale offices were located in London’s Portland Square, the lavish, high-ceilinged function room overlooking The Mall with views down to Buckingham Palace. Dan clenched his hand around his untouched drink, his grip threatening the integrity of the glass. He didn’t need to turn from the view to see her. Her presence in this elegant room traversed the plush carpeted expanse that separated them, burning the back of his neck like she was branded there.

  He should go to her, drag her down the hall to a deserted office and kiss some sense into her stubborn, beautiful head. The urge to cross the room and kiss her was so strong, he forced himself not to look at her. But what good would it do? And she was right. She was better off without him.

  He was guilty of all the things she’d accused him of. Part of him had tried to fix her. Part of him would always love Megan. Part of him could work through his residual feelings of guilt and would benefit from counselling.

  He should never have touched her. He had no right. All he’d done was bring her more pain.

  Conversations buzzed around him, scraping at his patience until his feet tottered on the edge of sanity. He cursed himself for the thousandth time in a week. An endless week. A week in which he’d had plenty of time to regret his part in the disastrous post-BBQ debacle. And he’d had a part. Even though he’d stood there, struck mute while Eden had made her … speech, her indictment. Even though he’d left all the denials, declarations and demands locked inside his stupid skull. He’d stood, brooding and blindsided while she’d lashed out, accusing and sentencing with one blow.

  And he couldn’t even be angry with her. She was right. Every word she’d spoken, undeniable. She did deserve more. Deserved everything a person had to give. And even as impotent emotions had boiled inside his silent chest, he’d known she was right.

  He swallowed, his mouth dry but his stomach rebelling at the contents of the glass in his hand. He’d blown it—spent too long hiding beneath his white coat, consumed with his pity party. He’d loved Megan. She’d been his life. But he’d never forgiven himself for not spotting the signs of her cancer sooner. Soon enough to save her. But that was just it. There were no signs. Ovarian cancer was notoriously difficult to detect, often presenting too late, when the disease had progressed too far to change the outcome.

  And he was just a man. Not possessed of a sixth sense or X-ray vision, no matter how much he wished that were true. Just a man, who’d loved a woman with everything he had and lost her anyway.

  And now he’d lost another woman. A woman he loved. He scuffed the carpet with his toe. Why hadn’t he told her? Why hadn’t he screamed it from the rooftops, every day from the first moment he’d realised his feelings?

  Because he was an idiot. Fucked up. Wallowing in his pathetic saviour complex, running around trying to fix the world. But that wouldn’t bring Megan back. And it wouldn’t cure him of his guilt. All it had done was make Eden feel less that she was. Which was perfect. A brave, wonderful woman who’d woken him from a long sleep, and shown him his flaws in all their glory.

  Yes, she’d suffered a life-altering ordeal. Still suffered from the long-term consequences of being caught up in someone else’s anger with the world. He knew enough about PTSD and depression to understand she might never be completely free from their insidious claws. But he couldn’t fix her either. All he could do was love her, care for her and never stop supporting her while she made herself whole again.

  The urge to go to her, to cross the room, steal her from what he assumed was her family—two men dressed, like her, in uniform, the women by their sides and Sam—and kiss her until his memories of the taste of her lips merged with the sublime reality, almost paralysed him. But the enormity of his monumental cock-up, of how much he’d let her down glued his feet to the floor. For an educated man, a doctor, his
stupidity crushed him.

  Steve, the Ruby Challenge coordinator, cleared his throat and waved to the room. Dan moved to stand beside Emily and the remainder of the challenge volunteers to the left of Steve.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen.’ Steve’s voice rose above the diminishing chatter. ‘Thank you all for coming today to support your loved ones.’ He extended one arm to the volunteer team. ‘It has been our extreme privilege to get to know this group of inspiring servicemen and women.’

  Dan’s eyes burned, desperate to seek out Eden. He stared at the patterned carpet, his chest aching as the burn intensified.

  ‘These brave people, who not only serve our country with honour, diligence and integrity, but also fight every day to overcome personal difficulties. They inspire us.’ A round of clapping and ‘hear, hears’ resounded from their group and Dan’s palms stung with the force of his own applause.

  ‘They pushed themselves. Every day. Pushed themselves to train. Pushed themselves outside of their comfort zones. Pushed themselves to complete something. Something more than just a physical challenge. A journey. From where they emerged stronger than when they began. And they have made us stronger too. Through our admiration, our newly forged friendships and our enriched lives from knowing such people.’

  A hearty round of applause engulfed the room, together with a smattering of cheers and wolf whistles. Steve fell silent, his own claps joining the noise as he grinned at the Ruby participants scattered around the room.

  Dan looked at her then. Couldn’t stop himself. His gaze drawn to find her, as if a piece of him was missing and her mere presence forced it to snap magnetically back into place. Her shy smile glowed, triumphant, full of laughter as she accepted hugs and pats on the back from her loved ones.

  She looked up, her eyes finding his across the chasm that separated them, and the joy slipped from her face before her stare fell away from his. Nausea kicked him in the gut, and he battled to swallow down the taste of bile.