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Do you know him?’

      ‘He’s a friend of Jake’s…’ As Flynn approached the bed Kathy’s voice trailed off.

      ‘Good evening, Meg—Kathy.’ He gave her sister a friendly nod.

      ‘Hi, Flynn. I’ll leave you to it; see you in the morning, Sis.’ Popping a quick kiss on Meg’s cheek, Kathy limped off.

      ‘How are you feeling?’

      ‘Better. Well, sore but better.’ The beginning of a blush was creeping over her cheeks.

      ‘That’s good. You’ve had a very lucky escape, Meg, all your tests have come back as normal. Apart from a lot of bruising, which is going to hurt for a while, and a mild concussion, you’ve got off very lightly.’ He peered at his notes for a moment, and Meg watched as he fiddled uncomfortably with his pen. ‘Can you remember what happened yet?’

      Meg shook her head. Normally she would have left it there, but there was something about Flynn, something about the way he had smiled at her this morning, the drama they had shared, that made her take the plunge and for the first time in ages prolong a conversation. ‘No, but I do remember you offering to save me a Danish pastry. You didn’t, by any chance, did you?’

      Her attempt at small talk was instantly to her dying shame rebuffed.

      ‘Apparently the police seem to think that you might have fallen asleep at the wheel.’

      Embarrassed at his businesslike tone, Meg felt her blush only deepen. ‘I didn’t!’

      ‘There were no skid marks at the scene, and apparently you were exhausted when you left this morning—though Jess told only me that, I hasten to add. I haven’t written it in my notes.’ He ran a hand through his hair, an exasperated tone creeping into his voice. ‘Why the hell didn’t you get a taxi?’

      She knew he was wrong, knew somehow that the picture he was painting wasn’t how it had happened, but her total lack of recall didn’t put her in the best position to argue the point.

      ‘I didn’t fall asleep,’ Meg intoned.

      ‘The police…’

      ‘The police are wrong,’ she retorted quickly. ‘And anyway, it’s none of your business.’ She knew she was being rude, but something about Flynn had her acting completely out of character. The little hint about the Danish pastry, the blush that wouldn’t go away—and now she was answering him back. It wasn’t actually out of character. It was more the old Meg. The Meg before Vince had extinguished every last piece of her fiery personality.

      Flynn begged to differ. ‘Oh, but it is my business, young lady. It became my business at precisely four minutes past eight this morning, when I stabilised your neck in the wreckage of your car.’ His voice was curt and formal, with no hint of the man who had held her hand just this morning, cajoled her to stay awake—who, even in the most dire of circumstances, had actually managed to make her laugh. ‘It became my business when I found out that one of the nurses in my department was so damned tired after her night shift she nearly killed herself. And,’ he added, standing over her so she had no choice but to look at him, ‘had you wiped out an entire family, no doubt it would have been left to me to deal with it. So you see, Meg—’ his lip curled around her name ‘—it is my business.’

      Despite his anger, it wasn’t a no holds barred attack, Meg realised. Not once had he mentioned the very real danger he had put himself in by staying with her throughout the ordeal, and his modest omission somehow touched her.

      He stood there for a moment, his eyes challenging her to respond, but she was too tired and too utterly defeated to argue. ‘Right, then. I’ve spoken to your parents, and I’m happy for you to be discharged tomorrow as long as you go and stay with them.’

      ‘That’s all I need,’ Meg muttered ungraciously.

      ‘I want the physio to see you before you go and run through some deep breathing exercises. Your chest is badly bruised and it’s important he sees you.’

      ‘No.’

      Flynn let out an exasperated sigh.

      ‘The catheter I can understand your objection to— but physio, for heaven’s sake? Do you have to argue about everything?’

      ‘You don’t understand.’

      ‘So enlighten me.’

      ‘Jake Reece is the Emergency physio,’ Meg started, her eyes darting around the obs ward to check that Kathy had definitely gone.

      ‘So why is that a problem?

      ‘He’s marrying my sister.’

      Flynn’s face broke into a grin then, and for a second he looked like the Flynn from this morning. ‘Jake and Kathy are getting married? That’s fantastic news.’ He seemed to remember she was there then, and stared at her, perplexed. ‘So why on earth don’t you want him to see you?’

      ‘Because, unlike you, I’m not exactly thrilled with the news.’

      ‘Why?’ He seemed genuinely bemused and Meg couldn’t believe that he didn’t understand how she was feeling.

      ‘He’s her physiotherapist, for heaven’s sake. Kathy’s handicapped. It’s wrong.’

      His face changed. She saw his bemused look change to one of distaste.

      ‘Please don’t try to tell me that you’re so politically correct you haven’t even noticed.’

      ‘Of course I’ve noticed. Kathy has also told me about it herself. Unlike you, she doesn’t seem to have a problem with it. From what I can remember of our conversation, she has mild cerebral palsy from birth, which has left her with a limp and a minor speech impediment. What she didn’t tell me, but I soon found out for myself, is that she happens to be a fun, happy, caring and very attractive woman.’

      ‘He’s ten years older than her.’

      ‘Hardly a hanging offence.’ He paused then, eyeing her carefully before continuing. ‘As you yourself pointed out, he’s her physio, not her doctor. They will have spent a lot of time together. If you got down off your high horse and actually spent some time with them, instead of judging them, you might find yourself pleasantly surprised.’

      And, after signing off her discharge papers, he left her lying there.

      Lying there for all the world wishing the ground would open up and swallow her.

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