He’d just shrugged, muttering something vague and getting back to his hammering. It still hung on the wall, and she had to admit she did love it. She quite liked the house, too. They’d brought the swing set over from Zoe’s old house. The more they moved around each other, cooking together, looking after Zoe, the more she felt at home—if she ignored the sizzling sexual tension she’d felt ever since Showergate.

  Zoe was calmer, sleeping better than she ever had. It was nice, their little bubble. She didn’t want to strangle Jackson nearly as much as she used to, and he called her Trig less and less—although Luce seemed to have stuck. She’d stopped bothering to correct him any more.

  She’d started calling him Jack. Zoe’s ‘Jack-Jack’ was seemingly not so bad to share a life with. It was tolerable. When she caught a flash of his muscles, it was more than tolerable, in fact. She’d had a few more cold showers recently, that was for sure. She’d even taken them both to her special coffee shop after one very early morning wake-up call from Zoe.

  Amy had just been leaving when they’d arrived. She’d texted, rapid-fire, seconds after leaving:

  Call me! You look so cute together! OMG! It’s so weird to see you getting on. We need to talk, boss!

  Lucy had fobbed her off.

  Whatever...see you at work!

  That was going to be a conversation and a half when she got back on the ward. She still didn’t know how to shut it down, either. Their worlds were merging fast and work had seemed a far-off concept at the time. Until now, when they were about to walk through the doors.

  As they sat in the car, staring at their workplace, Lucy knew that the woman she’d been the last time she’d been in that building wasn’t the one setting foot in there today.

  ‘So,’ she ventured, pushing her mindset back into the here and now. ‘How are we going to handle this? People will ask questions.’

  ‘Sure.’ He nodded. ‘HR know your change of address, though, right?’

  ‘It’s not about HR. What do we say when people ask about Zoe?’

  Jackson chuckled, leaving the car without answering her question.

  ‘Rude,’ she muttered, about to get out when she realised he was walking round to open her door. ‘Thanks.’ He held out the crook of his arm. She shouldered her handbag, an airbag between them as they fell into step.

  ‘People are not going to be interrogating us about the ins and outs. They’ll just be happy to see us back.’ His steps slowed. ‘Are you wanting to keep it a secret or something?’

  ‘No, no.’ She wouldn’t have Zoe be some secret. ‘I’m not sure people will understand it, though. Liz in HR choked on her bagel when I called to change my address to yours.’

  ‘Ours,’ he corrected. ‘I bet she did. Remember that dumb agreement we had to sign?’

  Lucy smirked up at him. ‘I have it framed in my office. Scares the newbies into line.’

  Jackson’s laugh was a loud, hearty rumble that she enjoyed just a little too much.

  When they reached the foyer, he shot her a wink. ‘If people dare ask, you tell them what you need to. It’s our business, Trig.’ Her nickname sounded almost affectionate. ‘I won’t say anything till you’re ready. Deal?’

  ‘Deal.’

  ‘Have a good day.’ He smirked. ‘Play nice with the other children.’

  Rolling her eyes, she headed to the ward.

  * * *

  She didn’t have time to answer any questions, as it happened. The second she’d turned her pager on, she was back in A&E.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked Jackson as she panted at the nurses’ station. ‘I’d barely got changed.’

  Seeing Jackson in his uniform was a jolt too.

  Had he looked that good in scrubs before?

  She never got the chance to think about it; seeing his expression had her following him to one of the trauma rooms.

  ‘Glad you got the page. I know it was quick.’ He paused behind the curtain. ‘Tom Jefferson, eight years old. Partly unrestrained passenger.’ His lips were tight, words clipped. ‘RTA. Mother’s gone to surgery already. Fractured pelvis, open femur fracture.’ His jaw clenched. ‘Looks like he took the top half of his belt off without his mum realising. Dad’s on his way from work.’

  He paused, as if he needed a minute to process his own words. ‘He has a fractured clavicle, head lacerations. He had his brain and spine cleared before we got here, but he’s pretty shaken up. Nurse is still digging glass out of his right side—superficial cuts, luckily. Breathe, Luce.’

  She gasped, air inflating her lungs in one shuddery breath. ‘Thanks,’ she muttered. ‘Didn’t realise I wasn’t.’

  They gave each other a tiny little nod, as if acknowledging the moment, before they pulled back the curtain.

  ‘Hi, Tom, I’m Dr Denning, and this is Dr Bakewell.’

  Harriet stared back at her from the hospital bed, her blonde hair matted with blood. When Lucy blinked, she was gone. A young boy stared back, hair the colour of Zoe’s, with wide, scared eyes. His legs only came halfway down the long bed. He looked lost, tiny against his stark white surroundings.

  ‘Where’s my mum?’ he asked. His bottom lip was trembling from the effort of trying not to cry. It was enough to break Lucy out of her stupor. ‘Is she okay?’

  ‘She’s going to be, Tom. Your dad’s on his way.’ She offered him an encouraging smile as she stepped closer, scanning his body and itemising his injuries in her head as Jackson spoke to the nurse. She heard her telling him that the glass was all out now, him telling her they’d take it from here. ‘In the meantime, your mum wants us to look after you. That okay?’

  Once the nurse had brought back dressings and a sling, closing the curtain behind her, he gave a slow nod.

  ‘Good work, pal.’ Jackson pointed to the equipment. ‘Now you’ve been checked out and cleaned up, I need to dress these little cuts. Your arm and shoulder are going to be pretty sore for a while.’

  ‘It hurts.’ Tom’s voice was hoarse, pained. ‘I’m not going to school today, am I?’

  Jackson shook his head. ‘No school for a few days, but that’s okay.’ He leaned in, giving Lucy a chance to blink her tears away as she prepared the suture kit for his head. ‘Dr Bakewell here is my friend, and she runs the children’s ward. We need to give you a little sleepover tonight, but the children’s ward has all the good, fun stuff.’ He looked around him, pretending to be bored. ‘Not like down here.’

  Lucy’s heart warmed as the little boy smiled for the first time, colour returning to his cheeks.

  ‘That’s right,’ she agreed. ‘Tom, we have all the good stuff. So, while your mum has a little rest, you and your dad can come hang out with me.’ She dropped her voice to a near whisper. ‘I have so many video games, you won’t believe it.’

  His eyes lit up. When she looked at Jackson, he was watching her, that little crooked smile matching the sparkle in his deep-brown eyes.

  ‘Me and Dad love video games!’ His little nose scrunched up. ‘Xbox or PlayStation?’

  ‘Both,’ she pretended to brag. ‘Now, I’m going to put some little stitches just here.’ Her gloved hands gently touched the skin near his head laceration. ‘Dr Denning will put bandages on your other cuts, and then we will have to put a sling on your arm to support that pesky broken bone.’ She pointed at his shoulder. ‘Do you know what bone you broke?’

  He gave a head-shake. ‘Well, it’s called your collarbone.’ She pointed along her own, showing him the wing-like bone jutting from her shoulder. ‘The medical name for it is a clavicle, so when your dad comes you can tell him you learned all about the human body, eh?’

  Another little smile came, which felt like the best reward.

  Jackson leaned in, meeting him at eye level. ‘Now, we need to give you some medicine for your pain, buddy. We need you to be brave, because it’s a little needle, and another one in your arm.’

  The little boy gulped, but sat a tiny bit straighter. ‘I’m brave. Dad said when I turn nine I’ll get more brave too.’ He went to shrug, but winced despite the pain relief he’d already been given. ‘So it’s okay. I’ll get more.’

  Jackson’s laugh felt like a balm to Lucy’s triggered grief.

  ‘Exactly.’ He thumbed a gloved hand at Lucy. ‘And, once you get settled upstairs, Dr Bakewell has special treats for bravery.’

  Tom flashed little white teeth, showing a gap where his two front teeth had been.

  ‘Tom?’ a frantic voice called, and the curtain swished back to show a man who looked just like the boy in the bed. His Hi Vis jacket loomed bright-orange, throwing colour into the room as he started to cry. ‘Oh, buddy!’ He didn’t even glance at the doctors as he went to his boy and kissed his forehead. ‘Oh, mate. I’m so sorry, I got here as fast as I could. Are you okay?’

  Tom raised his good arm and cupped his dad’s cheek. ‘I’m being brave, Dad.’ He eyed Lucy. ‘She has Xbox and PlayStation, and she said we could play later.’

  Tom’s dad laughed and Lucy watched them, noting the relief on his dad’s face as he laughed, kissing his boy and looking at his injuries. When she had pushed down her emotion enough to look Jackson in the eye, she couldn’t help but see the tear he was wiping away with his sleeve. Clearing her throat, she got back to work.

  ‘Mr Jefferson? I’m Dr Bakewell. Do you have a couple of minutes to have a little chat while Dr Denning stays with Tom? Tom?’ She smiled. ‘I’ll be back soon. I just need to tell your dad how brave you are. Dr Denning will give you something to make your head feel a little bit numb, so we can get you sorted. Okay?’

  The father followed her out, and she moved him away from the cubicle far enough that she could no longer hear Jackson discuss video games with Tom as he dealt with his dressings.

  ‘I can’t believe this.’ The father was drip-white. The adrenaline fading with the happy relaxed façade he’d put up for his son. ‘The police called me, said he’d not had his belt on properly. He was on the way to school with his mum.’ He leaned against the wall. ‘I could have lost them both. They’re everything. Is my wife going to be okay? Is Tom?’ For a second, Lucy saw a flash of bloodied blonde hair.

  It’s never going to be okay. Not really.

  ‘Doctor?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘Mr Jefferson, your wife and son are going to be fine. We are all here to look after you. I promise you; your family is in good hands.’ She pointed to an unoccupied row of chairs along the corridor. ‘Come, take a seat. I’ll get the nurses to get an update on your wife.’ She pointed to the foyer. ‘In fact, I’ll do that now for you. Go get a coffee and, when you get back, I’ll update you on everything. Tom needs to stay here overnight for observations, but we can make up a bed for you.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Mr Jefferson finally drew breath. ‘Coffee sounds good at the moment.’

  She watched him head away on shaky legs and, calling over a nurse, wondered if Mr Jefferson would ever truly know just how lucky he was.

  * * *

  She was back at the funeral, standing alone by the flower-adorned coffins. There was no minister, no mourners. She was alone, and then Harriet was there. She saw her, standing at a distance. She was speaking, her lips moving fast, forming words that didn’t reach Lucy’s ears.

  ‘I can’t hear you, Harry! Come here! Please!’

  She’d begged her to step closer to her side, past the wooden boxes. Her legs wouldn’t move. She tried everything, but the grass held her feet fast to the ground.

  ‘Harry!’ she shouted, over and over, begging her sister to come closer, knowing she was saying something but not hearing it. ‘Harriet, I can’t hear you!’ she yelled, crying with frustration. She longed to run to her sister and hold her, hear what she had to say. ‘Tell me, please! What are you telling me?’

  Harriet didn’t come. She just kept smiling as she spoke her silent message. Lucy kept shouting, the coffins standing between them fixed points. ‘Tell me!’ she screamed, wishing she could rip her body away from the turf. ‘Please?’ she cried. ‘Tell me!’

  ‘Luce, it’s ok! Stop, it’s okay!’

  ‘No! No! He doesn’t know how lucky he is!’ she screamed as something grabbed her. The coffins disappeared and she was in the dark, blinking the water from her eyes as she tried to focus. ‘Jackson?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He soothed her. ‘It’s me. You’re okay.’

  ‘Harriet,’ she gulped out between gasps. ‘Harry was here.’

  ‘It was a dream. Deep breaths.’ Her eyes adjusted to the dim light from the landing. She was in her room, her bed, in her new home.

  Home. Huh.

  Her racing mind, focusing on five things at once, almost skipped over the relief she felt that she was here. The lack of shock that it wasn’t her flat’s bedroom walls she could see in the dim light. Jackson was stroking her arms, his bare chest rising and falling at a tempo matching hers. ‘Everything’s okay.’

  ‘No,’ she pushed out, unable to breathe. Her heart was pulsing in her ears, a thudding drum beat. ‘I—’

  ‘You can.’ He stopped her. ‘You can breathe. It’s okay. I’ve got you. Control it. In through the nose, doctor, out through the mouth. Focus on me, Look at me.’

  She pushed away the image of the flower-strewn coffins, replacing them with the dark pull of his concerned gaze. She did as he asked until the burning in her chest subsided.

  He’d sensed it, the looming panic attack. Moving closer, he ran his hands down her arms one more time. He reached for the shaking hand in her lap. ‘I’m here, Luce,’ he’d said softly, the breath pushed out from his words whispering over her skin as he kissed the back of her hand. ‘I’m not going anywhere, ever. Okay?’

  She looked back at him, and the strength of conviction in his expression almost felled her. It was as though the swirling brown of his eyes was more intense, boring into her soul to bring the words home. ‘You believe me, right, Luce?’

  ‘Yes.’ She nodded, squeezing his hand tight with her own. ‘I know you’ll stay with me.’

  His face relaxed, his furrowed brow easing. ‘For ever,’ he mumbled, pulling their entwined hands to rest against his chest. ‘For ever, Lucy. You’ll never be alone again. Not while I’m here.’

  The tears came soon after. He soothed her and shushed her. He brought her into his huge, unyielding embrace and lay down with her. She rested her head on his chest and fell asleep, listening to the beat of his heart.

  * * *

  The sun was up when Zoe woke them with her shouts, still wrapped together, her hand still caged by his, his fingers wrapped around hers. As she roused from sleep, from the feeling of waking with someone for the first time in, well, a long time, she stilled her body. She knew she had to move, but delayed it anyway. His heartbeat was steady against the shell of her ear. Neither had moved an inch the whole night.

  Zoe yelled louder. ‘Jack-Jack!’

  When she felt him stir beneath her, the night before sprang into her head. His whispered words in the dark: for ever.

  Oh, it was going to be another weird day.

  ‘Morning,’ he mumbled. He lifted their entwined hands, brushing a stubbly kiss onto her skin. ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she bluffed, before she pulled away. Reality was rising faster than the sun through her window, sending her scrambling from their embrace like a startled vampire. ‘I’ll go get Zoe.’

  ‘Luce?’ he tried, his hold lingering before she untwined her fingers.

  ‘I’m fine. Honestly. First day back was tough, that’s all.’ She sprang away from him and tucked her hand out of sight. He didn’t reach for it again. His words were few after that, clipped. They went through the motions, their morning routine awkwardly stilted.

  Now they were here again, back out of the bubble. Back to the normality of work. She didn’t know quite how to feel about it yet. They’d dropped Zoe off at his mother’s house that morning, both of his parents meeting them at the door with a tender smile. Sheila had pulled her in for a hug while the men had taken Zoe indoors with her stuff.

  ‘Have a good day, love,’ Sheila had said softly into her ear. ‘You look tired. Take it easy on yourself, okay? Juggling family and work are hard enough at the best of times.’

  Jackson appeared behind her, so she didn’t get the chance to reply. She didn’t know what she would have said anyway.

  I had a nightmare? Your son is dreamy to wake up next to, and now I’m freaked out about it happening again—or not happening again?

  The way she’d woken in his arms wasn’t normal; she knew that much. Even without Jackson’s and her complicated relationship, and their arrangement, she’d never felt like that waking up with a man in her bed. She didn’t have much to compare it to, sure, but she had the feeling waking up with Aaron from the fracture clinic would not have felt that good, that, safe, that good. She was running out of ways to categorise it, which frustrated her all the more. She was so turned around, she didn’t know what to trust. Even her gut was an unreliable narrator around Jackson.

  She pushed the scramble of thoughts away, focusing on the here and now, one foot in front of the other, allowing one of her other new emotions to push to the front. Parental guilt popped its head up first, begging to be acknowledged. It had felt strange, leaving Zoe there and going off to work again. She’d got pretty used to being home with Jackson and her. Was this what working parents experienced every day? She wasn’t sure she liked it. Watching Jackson at home that morning, losing his keys, spilling his coffee down his shirt, she knew she wasn’t the only one affected by things.

  Does he feel what I do, or is that just him being his usual caring self?

  Perhaps she should have chosen Neurology. Maybe then she’d know what was going in his head.

  Oh, shut up, you daft fool. Not even science can help you on this one.