LITMIR.BIZ

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in Jayne’s direction. His sisters made Jayne’s favourite potato salad. Unless that had changed, too.

      ‘Sounds good,’ she conceded with a grateful smile. But that playful look in her eyes was missing. And then it hit him. It hadn’t been there since she’d walked into the room.

      Sure, there was the whole awkward ‘running into your ex’ thing, but they’d seen each other before since they’d split up, at the pub over Christmas, and had just about hit the casual acquaintance kind of comfort level. A quick Hi, you look well. So do you. Well...happy Christmas, then! and off they’d go and live their lives for another year.

      He narrowed his eyes as Jayne fussed about, picking up Maggie’s bag and the paperwork she’d left on Sam’s desk. She looked a bit tired, but that wasn’t it.

      The spark in her eyes had only gone once before, and that had been at her darkest ebb.

      A thought jammed itself into place and stuck. This spontaneous trip to the country was definitely loaded with something heavier than just getting HR off of her back. She’d managed to dodge the village for the past seven years, so...why now?

      Jayne waved the paperwork at him. ‘All right if I pop in another time to talk through these?’

      ‘Yeah, sure. Absolutely.’

      He caught himself smiling. They’d always enjoyed doing that. Going over patients’ notes together had been one of the myriad reasons they’d planned to work together. Live together. Love together.

      Well... He supposed he’d see how much things had changed when she came in. Things he would remind himself of when she left again. Because this wouldn’t last. Couldn’t last. Jayne Sinclair had made it more than clear her future was not in Whitticombe. And not with him.

      Jayne bundled Maggie towards the corridor and Sam automatically moved forward to put his hand on the small of Jayne’s back. He saw her notice the movement out of the corner of his eye and pulled it away. Which was ridiculous. What were his fingers going to do? Catch on fire if he touched her?

      He gave himself a few extra seconds to regroup before going out to the waiting room to get his next patient. Tommy Stark. A ten-year-old boy who looked as though he’d had a bit of a run-in with a fist in the playground.

      ‘Oof. That looks sore.’

      ‘Yup.’ Tommy grinned as he followed Sam into his office with his mother in tow.

      His mum explained how her son had managed to insert himself between the school bully and the school chess champion, a rather shy girl called Molly.

      ‘That was a brave thing to do,’ Sam said.

      ‘Nah,’ the little boy explained. ‘I did it for love, so it doesn’t hurt.’

      Sam hid his rueful smirk as he checked the boy over, then showed them out of the room. If only it were that easy.

      * * *

      ‘Have you gone completely mad?’

      A blade of guilt swept through Jayne as words flew out of her mouth and steam poured out of her ears. What was Maggie thinking? The whole point of bedrest was doing just that. Resting. Not pole-vaulting them both straight into the heart of village life.

      Maggie was totally unfazed. Perhaps it was the promise of grilled food on the horizon. Or maybe it was the foot-rub Jayne was giving her. The only successful lure to get her active friend to sit down.

      ‘Ow! Not so hard. It’s the cricket,’ Maggie offered amiably in explanation, then pointed to her foot. ‘You missed a bit.’

      Jayne arched an eyebrow. ‘It’s not just “the cricket”, Mags. It’s the whole of freaking Whitticombe coming out to play!’

      ‘So?’

      ‘So... I just...’

      She didn’t want the entire universe to know she was back. Not en masse, anyway. It was hard enough being home at all, let alone at this time of year. Only two short weeks away from the anniversary of the day her sister died. If they knew it had been her fault they’d... Ugh... It didn’t bear thinking about.

      ‘It just seems a bit awkward, you know?’

      ‘Why? You’re a Whitticomber. So’s near enough everyone else. Think of yourself as a stand-in for your parents. Cheer for them, too.’ Her voice softened as she asked, ‘How are they, anyway?’

      Another blade of guilt sliced through Jayne’s conscience. ‘They’re all right...’

      She’d sent a couple of texts, telling them she was going to be staying with Maggie, and had received a short message in return. They were fine. It was quiet. They were both working a lot.

      Nothing more personal than her patient notes.

      Brief, informative texts seemed to be the only way they could communicate since Jules had died. As if her twin had been the glue that had held them together. Jayne had stayed home for a couple of months afterwards, but whenever they’d looked at her she’d seen the emptiness in their eyes. They all knew but they never spoke the one simple truth.

      If Jayne hadn’t rung Jules...if Jayne hadn’t asked her to ride to the pub...her sister would be alive and well today. If only she’d screamed loud enough. Fast enough.

      The sports car had been moving so fast when Jules had whipped round the corner on her bicycle. Jayne’s screams had stayed lodged in her throat. When her sister had been pronounced brain-dead it had been as if they would never stop sounding inside her own head.

      As best she could, Jayne conjured up a smile and put away the massage cream, rubbing the residue into her hands. The tingle of the minty gel reminded her of how she’d felt when, just for a nanosecond, Sam had reached forward to put his hand on the small of her back as they’d left his office—until he’d caught her noticing and pulled it back. Fire then ice.

      ‘Apparently it’s not much of a summer as far as the weather is concerned. They’re up in the farthest reaches of the Scottish isles.’

      Maggie pulled a face. ‘I couldn’t live up there. Although I suppose the communities must be close, what with the weather and all. I was talking to the McTavishes—’

      Jayne lifted her brow questioningly.

      ‘They’re the ones who are doing the house-swap with your parents. Really nice couple. They love my kids. Said they don’t have grandkids of their own, so they always pounce on a chance to play with them. Mrs McTavish has been teaching Connor how to sketch. It’s pretty cool!’

      It sounded cool. Just the sort of thing her father would have done with her own children if she’d lived down the road in The Old Barn with Sam, as they’d planned. Bundled a child upon his knee and pulled out a huge sketchpad, as he had done with each of them. Jules had taken to it like a duck to water, but Jayne’s artistry had always lain much more firmly in the surgical field. In fixing things.

      That was why she spent all her spare time in the other hospital departments. No way would she ever again fall into the ‘helpless maiden’ category. Not after that horrible day.

      Kneeling on the pavement next to Jules after she’d been hit, not caring that her own knees were scraped raw, Jayne had felt so helpless. She’d done CPR, but her sister’s injuries had been so severe the only thing she’d been able to do was keep her heart beating until someone else had told her otherwise. There had been no way she was going to call her own sister’s death.

      She hadn’t even thought of becoming a surgeon at that point. It had been general practice with a specialty in paediatrics all the way. Sam would do the ‘oldies’. She’d look after the little ones. And between the two of them they’d take care of everyone ese. It had been a perfect plan for a perfect life.

      ‘Woo-hoo? Earth to Jayne?’ Maggie pulled back and then suddenly went wide-eyed, as if a lightbulb had gone on inside her head.

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