She didn’t know when it occurred to her that something wasn’t right. Possibly around the same time that Sol slowed down, scanning all around them with a grim expression on his face.
‘Something is going on,’ he ruminated. ‘The roads are too busy, even for this time of year.’
‘And the traffic is going the wrong way,’ Anouk concurred, twisting around to look. ‘A road traffic accident, maybe? A main road closed? Diversions?’
It was one of the side-effects of being an A & E doctor: she could perceive a potential major accident like a sixth sense. Things just didn’t...sit right.
‘More than one road, I’d say, given the volume of traffic.’
‘So a multiple-car RTA?’
‘Something.’ He nodded, sliding his phone out of his back pocket as they exchanged a glance.
‘I don’t have to make the call. If they need me, they’ll call.’
‘It’s work,’ she raised her eyebrows. ‘We both know you’re itching to make that call. Anyway, call it a sign.’
‘I don’t believe in signs,’ he scoffed. ‘You and I getting together is inevitable, Anouk. We both know it. We can’t out run it, and however hard we try it will catch up with us. That need will wrap itself around us and topple us to the ground.’
‘Then I’ll just have to run faster.’
He laughed. An oddly sensuous sound.
‘The faster you run, the further you get, the harder the fall will ultimately be.’
He hadn’t even begun to make the call when it rang.
‘Here goes.’ Raising his eyebrows, Sol took the call.
When he let go of her hand, it felt too much like a loss. All Anouk could do was try to glean all she could from his terse responses. When he started moving, she hurried to keep up.
‘It’s a major incident,’ he bit out, snapping his phone shut a few moments later. ‘Some kind of gas explosion on Beechmoor Street. Multiple casualties; they’re splitting them between us and the Royal.’
Saskia.
‘That’s around the corner from where I live,’ Anouk cried. ‘I have to get back there.’
He stopped momentarily, swinging back to her.
‘It isn’t safe. The area has apparently been evacuated.’
‘I have to get home.’ She stepped onto the kerb with the intention of hailing a taxi.
‘You won’t get a taxi,’ Sol told her. ‘They said it’s gridlock towards the hospital. If we head around the north side on foot, we should make it to the hospital.’
Should she go? For a moment, Anouk wondered whether following Sol was sensible or not. But if people were injured...?
‘Okay.’ She dipped her head, hurrying after him as he raced ahead.
She hadn’t been called, but if things were that serious then extra hands could only be welcome.
And then, her phone began ringing, too.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘BLOOD GAS IS BACK,’ Anouk announced to her team. ‘She’s got a pH of seven point zero four with a lactate of nine.’
‘Bicarb?’ her colleague asked.
She checked the screen.
‘Eight. Basics are minus twenty. Okay, guys, let’s go back to the beginning. Airway?’
She waited for her team to communicate that it was unobstructed before moving on.
‘Breathing?’
The pause felt like a lifetime, and Anouk knew even before her colleague spoke that the breathing that had been weak before was now absent. Instantly she began CPR.
The casualty had arrived in a bad way. How the crew had even got her from the scene of the explosion to the hospital without losing her was a testament to them, but she could tell this wasn’t likely to go the way she would want. And she hated that. She hated losing a patient.
Any patient. Every patient.
She knew in this case she was fighting the inevitable, but did it matter? As long as she fought for the young woman lying in front of her?
She completed several rounds of CPR before her head finally reined in her heart.
‘Pulse check?’
Even as her colleagues were checking one source, she was checking another.
‘No pulse.’
No, not for her either. Anger and frustration coursed through Anouk as she lifted her head to the clock and announced the time of death.
‘We didn’t stand a chance,’ one of her colleagues muttered, tapping her lightly on the shoulder as she passed.
Anouk dipped her head. Much as she knew that, it didn’t always help. She reached for the curtains. There wasn’t time to stop and grieve; the casualties were coming in thick and fast. No sooner would she step out than there would be another emergency to deal with.
Normally this was what she thrived on—not the losses, of course, but the challenge, the wins, the lives saved. But tonight there were too many other fears racing around her brain, and not all to do with Sol.
In some ways she was almost grateful for the distraction. Perhaps she’d been impulsive thinking that she could have a one-night stand with Sol. With anyone. Maybe it was a good thing they hadn’t ended up back at his apartment. At least now she had time to think and realise what a bad decision that would have been.
Wouldn’t it?
So why could she only think about surrendering to the temptation that had been haunting her ever since their intimate encounter?
Her head was reeling.
She told herself it was the fear of knowing that the explosion was so close to her and Saskia’s apartment block. She’d tried calling her friend on the way to the hospital, but it had gone straight to voicemail. She had no way of knowing if Saskia was all right. Or even where she was.
So that was definitely a concern. But it wasn’t what filled her mind with such a confusion of thoughts.
No, she suspected that tangle was more to do with the man who she would have been with, right now, if that accident hadn’t happened.
It was why she needed a good save more than anything. She needed Saskia and she needed the high of saving lives to push the unwelcome thoughts of Sol from her brain. Given the emergencies flooding in, and not enough staff yet able to get to the hospital, there was plenty for her to do.
As the porters dealt with the deceased patient in the bay, Anouk pushed the loss out of her head and moved on to the next bay, only for Sol to catch her before she went in.
For an instant her heart jolted madly and everything seemed to come into sharper focus.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Someone paged Neuro,’ he replied evenly. ‘A thirty-two-year-old cyclist with T12 and L1 fractures?’
‘That’s one of my cases.’ Whatever her body might be feeling, her brain flipped immediately, locking back into professional mode. ‘In here.’
He followed her quickly into a bay, nodding a brief greeting to the girl who was sitting, terrified, at the bedside of her injured boyfriend.
‘This is Jared,’ Anouk told Sol. ‘He came in earlier and we’ve already had him up to CT.’
‘He was caught in the blast?’
‘Yes, we understood from witnesses who spoke to the air ambulance team that Jared went over the handlebars and was thrown into another vehicle. He was wearing a crash helmet. The head to pelvis CT scan showed fractured third and fourth ribs with a right-sided pneumothorax. Fractured T12 and L1 with possible evidence of neuro-compromise. He had a deep gash on his right thigh, which we have dealt with. He’s had a total of around fourteen mils morphine.’
‘Understood,’ Sol agreed. ‘I need to look at the imaging and decide what to do about the spine.’
‘Agreed. I was working on the basis that if he has broken vertebrae at T12 and L1 there are likely to be depressional fractures through the endplates.’
It shouldn’t have surprised her how well, h
ow slickly, the two of them were working together. Almost as if the gala evening had never happened.
‘Get it to me,’ confirmed Sol, already jogging to his next call.
Little wonder the demand on the neuro team would be ridiculously high tonight.
* * *
For several hours Anouk worked steadily, hurrying between patients. She struggled to find beds for the unending stream of casualties injured in the blast. Still, she hadn’t realised how much time had passed until she dashed from her current patient in order to call Neuro again, only for Sol to appear as she lifted the receiver.
‘I’ve just been looking for you.’
‘Thank goodness.’ Dropping down the receiver, Anouk pulled a grimace as she turned to him. ‘I thought no one was going to be able to get here.’
‘About Jared? The cyclist with the T12 and L1 fractures?’
‘Sorry?’
‘I’m satisfied that the fractures are stable and that no intervention by us is necessary. I’m also confident that there is no neuro deficit so you can admit him to trauma team care, but he doesn’t need to be transferred to Neuro.’
‘Right.’ Anouk hailed one of the nurses to relay the message and ensure the transfer happened quickly to free up a precious resus bed, simultaneously grabbing Sol’s lapels as he made to move away.
‘Anouk?’ he growled as he swung back to her, his dark gaze taking in her hands still gripping his clothing.
She didn’t even have time to feel abashed.
‘I need you to look at this patient. It’s urgent.’
‘I came down to give you the results. I have another patient to see. You’re probably on Ali’s list—she’ll be on her way as soon as she’s finished with her patient upstairs.’
‘There isn’t time to wait for Ali.’ Anouk shook her head, ushering him to the screen and calling up a new set of images.
Vaguely, it occurred to her that he could have objected. He could have focussed on his next assigned patient, but he was trusting her that this was critical.
‘Her name is Jocelyn,’ Anouk explained, still bringing up the images. ‘She was right outside the building when the explosion occurred and the blast wave knocked her across the road and into a wall. She had a loss of consciousness for approximately ten minutes. On arrival of paramedics she had a GCS of three, which transitioned to a GCS of eleven. Very aggressive and we have confirmed with her husband that it’s out of character. The patient was put into a medically induced coma and taken to CT.’
She flashed the images up on the screen.
‘A large extradural haematoma.’ Sol pursed his lips. ‘Very large, in fact.’
‘Yes,’ Anouk agreed. ‘Midline shift.’
‘And it has shifted more?’ he confirmed.
‘Yes.’
They both knew that immediate surgery was imperative. Best case would be that the neurosurgeons could drain the blood and that the brain could move back into place and heal over. Most likely it would never be the same, but the faster they moved, the more chance there was.
Worst case, Jocelyn would die.
‘I’ll take her,’ Sol confirmed after verifying the images for himself. ‘I’ll push my patient to Ali—he isn’t as critical.’
‘Thanks.’
With a nod, Sol straightened and moved away quickly, and Anouk couldn’t help feeling warm.
She could pretend it was because she knew that her patient was in the very best hands. But she knew that wasn’t all it was.
The night flew by, exhausting and chaotic, but with enough saves to bolster Anouk and her team as twelve hours went by, then eighteen, then twenty-four and the casualties had finally thinned out, the wail of ambulances subsiding.
And Anouk could finally go home. She tried not to think of where she might have been now if the gas explosion had never happened. Would she still be at Sol’s, or would he have found a way to subtly eject her from his apartment rather than have her stay the night? Somehow, she couldn’t imagine it. Playboy or not, it just didn’t seem... Sol-like.
Then again, what was she doing imagining anything?
She rounded the corner, straight into Saskia. They had seen each other in Resus, passing as they darted into different bays but, incredibly, their cases hadn’t coincided all evening. But now, without even uttering a word, her friend hugged her tightly.
‘I was so relieved when I heard you were safe.’
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ Anouk laughed. ‘And never mind me, the hospital is practically buzzing with some gossip that you arrived by helicopter?’
Saskia thrust her away, her eyes searching Anouk.
‘You haven’t heard, then?’ Saskia demanded, ignoring the comment.
A sense of unease began to creep through Anouk.
‘Heard what?’
‘That the explosion affected Kings Boulevard?’
‘That’s us.’ Anouk frowned.
‘Yes. The whole area has been cordoned off until they can determine which buildings are structurally intact and which aren’t. We can’t go home.’ Anouk couldn’t answer as Saskia hugged her again. ‘At least we’re both safe.’
‘We should...book a hotel, then.’ Anouk fought off the daze that had settled over her. ‘I’ll call now.’
‘Not for me.’ Her friend placed her hand over Anouk’s as she reached into her locker for her mobile. ‘I’m... I have somewhere to be.’
‘Where?’
‘I... I’m staying with Malachi,’ Saskia apologised.
‘With Malachi?’
Sol’s brother?
It didn’t make much sense but Saskia was already changing her shoes and closing her bag.
‘Saskia? Are you in here?’ Sol’s voice only seemed to ramp up the tension in the room.
Or perhaps it was just her, Anouk thought, flustered.
‘Oh, Anouk.’ Was it her imagination or did he pause for a fraction of a second when he spotted her, before addressing Saskia again? ‘Mal says you need to get going. His heli is on the roof and they want it cleared in case an emergency has to come in.’
‘I should go,’ Saskia muttered.
Sol looked at her.
‘If you’re calling for a hotel, Anouk, you’re too late. I heard a couple of guys complaining an hour ago that every hotel in the city was booked out. The cordon is quite extensive—lots of apartment blocks have been evacuated.’
‘Great.’ She gritted her teeth as Saskia hovered, still not leaving. Worry etched in her face.
‘You could find an on-call room.’
‘I’m guessing they’ll be taken, too,’ Sol told them. ‘They’re setting up temporary beds in community centres around the place.’
‘Oh,’ Anouk bit out as Saskia grabbed her hand.
‘I could speak to Malachi? See if you could come with us?’
‘Or you could just stay with me,’ Sol cut in, quietly, firmly.
He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. It hung there, in the silence between them.
She could stay with Sol...as she had been going to do before the explosion had happened.
Only it wasn’t twenty-odd hours ago and things had shifted since that reckless moment in the coffee shop. That moment had gone. They could pretend it was just exhaustion from the chaotic shift; she would be happy with that.
‘Thanks, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.’
They both knew what she meant by it. But her objection was drowned out by her friend who, Anouk was sure, cast Sol a grateful look.
‘That’s a great idea.’
What was going on here?
‘I’m sorry, I do have to go,’ Saskia muttered, squeezing her hand again.
‘I don’t understand, Sask?’
‘It’s complicated. I’ll explain everything when I can.’
Then Saskia hurried out of the room, leaving Anouk staring as the door closed behind her friend. The flashback to her teenage years was as sudden as it was unexpected. The moment she’d first realised that people were moving on whilst she was standing still. Too caught up in her mother’s dramas to have time for a life of her own.
Was it possible she’d been standing still ever since?
‘Do you know what that was about?’ she asked Sol before she could stop herself.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned back against the wall. He looked ridiculously model-like. And dammit if a thrilling shiver didn’t dance down her spine.
‘Possibly.’
‘But you aren’t going to tell me?’
‘I don’t know anything for sure.’ He shrugged. ‘When they want us to know, they’ll tell us.’
‘There’s a they?’
She wasn’t surprised when he didn’t elaborate.
‘I don’t believe it’s my business,’ he said calmly. ‘Now, do you want a place to stay or not?’
He just waited calmly, as though offering her a place to stay when there was nowhere else was no big deal. Yet she wouldn’t take it, not because she was afraid of what might happen between them, but because she was afraid that she wanted it too much.
And if it did, what was the worst that could happen? They’d enjoy a night, maybe a few nights, of intimacy. Even the memory of that night at the gala was enough to have her... aching. Just as she’d been ever since.
And hadn’t she already considered that maybe it was a good thing she hadn’t ended up at his house twenty-four hours ago? That maybe it was fate?
Maybe that argument had worked when her mind had been preoccupied by her patients. Her job. Only now the ready-made excuse was gone, it seemed that she wasn’t as eager to head somewhere alone, after all. Not when Sol was standing, in all his six-three, honed glory in front of her.
Not when he’d acted as a dashing knight in blue scrubs on several occasions for her patients tonight.
‘What happened to Jocelyn?’ she demanded abruptly.
‘Two hours in surgery. We’ll keep her in an induced coma for the next few days and see what happens when she wakes up.’
Unwrapping the Neurosurgeon's Heart Page 10